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diff --git a/25977-h/25977-h.htm b/25977-h/25977-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c306a76 --- /dev/null +++ b/25977-h/25977-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,27684 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of My Recollections of Lord Byron, by Teresa Guccioli. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's My Recollections of Lord Byron, by Teresa Guiccioli + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: My Recollections of Lord Byron + +Author: Teresa Guiccioli + +Release Date: July 6, 2008 [EBook #25977] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY RECOLLECTIONS OF LORD BYRON *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Jane Hyland, Rose Koven and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg i-ii] </a></span></p> + + +<h4><i>Lord Byron jugé par les témoins de sa Vie.</i></h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%;"> +<img src="images/smallfrontis.jpg" width="390" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MY_RECOLLECTIONS" id="MY_RECOLLECTIONS"></a>MY RECOLLECTIONS</h2> + +<h3>OF</h3> + +<h1>LORD BYRON</h1> + +<h3>AND</h3> + +<h3>THOSE OF EYE-WITNESSES OF HIS LIFE.</h3> + + +<p class="center"> +"The long promised work of the <span class="smcap">Countess Guiccioli</span>."—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;"><i>Athenæum.</i></span><br /><br /><br /> +</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>NEW YORK</i>:</p> + +<p class="center">HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,<br /></p> +<p class="center">FRANKLIN SQUARE.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg iii] </a></span></p><p class="center">1869.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><a name="ADVERTISEMENT_BY_THE_ENGLISH_PUBLISHER" id="ADVERTISEMENT_BY_THE_ENGLISH_PUBLISHER"></a>ADVERTISEMENT BY THE ENGLISH PUBLISHER.</p> + +<p class="center">The Publisher of this Translation feels authorized to state, that it is +the production of the celebrated <span class="smcap">Countess Guiccioli</span>.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> +<p style="margin-left: 48em">RICHARD BENTLEY.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><a name="TO" id="TO"></a>TO</p> + +<h3>THE AUTHOR OF THIS WORK,</h3> + +<p class="center">THE</p> + +<p class="center">ENGLISH TRANSLATION</p> + +<p class="center">IS</p> + +<p class="center">Respectfully Dedicated</p> + +<p class="center">BY</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg v-vi]</a></span></p> +<h3>HUBERT E.H. JERNINGHAM.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="left"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Introductory Sketch of Lord Byron<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">Page 9<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lord Byron and M. de Lamartine<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">43<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Portrait of Lord Byron<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">58<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">French Portrait of Lord Byron<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">70<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Religious Opinions<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">106<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Childhood and His Youth<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">174<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Friendships<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">201<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lord Byron considered as a Father, as a Brother, and as a Son—His <br /> +Goodness shown by the Strength of his instinctive Affections<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">232<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Qualities of Lord Byron's Heart<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 245<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Benevolence and Kindness<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">284<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lord Byron's Qualities and Virtues of Soul<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">305<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lord Byron's Constancy<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 347<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii] </a></span><span class="smcap">His Courage and Fortitude<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">361</td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Modesty<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">372<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Virtues of his Soul<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 381<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Generosity elevated into Heroism<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 396<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Faults<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 414<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Irritability<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">427<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Mobility<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 450<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Misanthropy and Sociability<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 457<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Pride<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 484<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Vanity<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 488<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lord Byron's Marriage and its Consequences<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">504<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Gayety and Melancholy<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">545<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">His Melancholy<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right"> 563<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Attraction of Truth for; or, Conscience the chief Quality of his Soul<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">631<br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Semi-Biography of Byron in Mr. Disraeli's "Venetia"<br /><br /></span></td><td align="right">656<br /><br /></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii] </a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MY_RECOLLECTIONS_ETC" id="MY_RECOLLECTIONS_ETC"></a>MY RECOLLECTIONS, ETC.</h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCTION.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"To know another man well, especially if he be a noted and +illustrious character, is a great thing not to be +despised."—<span class="smcap">Sainte-Beuve</span>.</p></div> + + +<p>Many years ago a celebrated writer, in speaking of Lord Byron, who had +then been dead some years, said that so much had already been written +upon him that the subject had almost become commonplace, but was far +from being exhausted. This truth, indisputable when applied to Byron's +genius, his works, and to his intellect, was then and still is equally +positive when referring to his moral qualities. A subject as well as an +object may become commonplace by the quantity, but nevertheless remain +new and rare, owing to its quality. A subject can not be exhausted +before it has been seen under every one of its various aspects, and +appreciated in all its points. If much has been said of Lord Byron, has +his truly noble character been fairly brought to light? Has he not, on +the contrary, been judged rather as the author than the man, and have +not the imaginary creations of his powerful mind been too much +identified with reality? In the best biographies of his life do we not +meet with many gaps which have to be filled up—nay, worse, gaps filled +up with errors which have to be eradicated to make room for the truth? +The object of this work is precisely to do away with these errors and to +replace them by facts, and to dispel the shadows which fancy has raised +around his name. For the old opinions we wish to substitute new +appreciations, by weighing exactly the measure of truth which exists in +the former; and by the logic of facts we wish to judge fairly so as to +prevent posterity from being deceived. In doing this we do not pretend +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9] </a></span> give England any new information. For a long time, no doubt, error +sprang from that country; but years and events have passed since that +state of things existed. The liberal and tolerant spirit, enlightened by +philosophy, which has spread all over liberal England, has also been +reflected in the opinions formed of men, and has modified many pages of +biography and history and made Englishmen feel how numerous were the +wrongs of which they were guilty toward their illustrious countryman.</p> + +<p>It is useless to speak of the national selfishness of England, and +pretend that she only appreciates or rewards with her love and esteem +such writers as flatter her pride or hide her defects from the eyes of +foreigners. This may be true, generally speaking; but Lord Byron's +patriotic feelings were of a very different cast. He thought it best to +expose to the world at large the faults of his countrymen, in order to +correct them. His patriotism was influenced by the superiority of the +noble sentiments which actuated his life. Feeling as he did, that he +was, above all, a member of the great human community, and declaring it +openly; despising popularity, if it cost him the sacrifice of a truth +which he deemed it useful and right to proclaim, and thus going against +many of the passions, prejudices, and opinions of his countrymen, Byron +certainly wounded many susceptibilities; and could we forget all he had +to suffer at the hands of the English, we might almost say he was too +severe in his judgments upon them. Notwithstanding, however, it is +almost impossible to travel in England without meeting everywhere some +token of homage paid to the memory of Byron. Scotland, who looks upon +him almost as a son, is proud to show the several houses wherein he +lived when a child, and preserves his name and memory with love and +respect. To have seen him once, is a recollection of which one is proud. +A particular charm encircles the places, mountains, rivers, and bridge +of Don, of which he speaks, simply because he has mentioned them in his +poems. A letter or any thing which has belonged to him is looked upon as +a treasure.</p> + +<p>At Harrow, the beloved residence of his youth, the growing generation +bow with affectionate respect before the pyramid which has been erected +to his memory by the love of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10] </a></span> former youthful generation. At +Cambridge, among all the monuments which recall the glories of the past, +Lord Byron's statue commands the rest, and occupies the place of honor. +The rooms which he had there are shown and reverenced as places which +have harbored genius. In Parliament the same man who formerly, by unjust +and unmerited criticisms of the youthful poet, decried his growing +genius, and who was guilty of other wrongs against him, has made an act +of reparation and of justice by expressing publicly his regret that a +grudge of the dean in Byron's time had prevailed to prevent a monument +being erected in Westminster Abbey to the memory of the poet. The +pilgrimage to Newstead is looked upon as an intellectual feast, if not +as a duty, by young Englishmen, and his genius is so much revered by +them that they do not admit that he is equalled by any contemporary poet +or likely to be surpassed by those who follow. No doubt, therefore, +England now-a-days only prefers what formerly she used to exact from her +poets. Moore's culpable timidities and Macaulay's declamatory +exaggerations must, at least, be looked upon as weaknesses of character, +which would have been disowned by themselves, had they lived long enough +to witness the change in public opinion.</p> + +<p>Although full justice has not yet been done to the noble character of +the man, still partial justice has been rendered to Byron's memory by +the summary dismissal of the numerous false writings which appeared and +which tended to replace the truth by the creations of fancy, and to put +into the mouth of the poet the thoughts of their authors and not his +own, or to insult him by a magnanimous defense, the honor and glory of +which was to redound entirely to the writers. It is necessary to +observe, that if Byron was openly calumniated during his lifetime, he +was not less so after his death by disguised slander, especially by that +kind of absolution which in reality is one of the most odious forms of +calumny, since it is the most hypocritical and most difficult to deal +with, and least likely to be touched. But England has at last understood +the truth and settled all such opinions.</p> + +<p>To England, therefore, these pages, which contain the rectification of +certain old opinions, will be useless. But can the same be said of other +countries, and of France especially?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11] </a></span> Even now-a-days, we read such +fanciful appreciation of Byron's character that we could almost believe +that the rumors and calumnies which came from England had never been +refuted; and that extraordinary views expressed by Lamartine in +beautiful verse are still entertained, and the question still asked, +whether Byron was "a devil or an angel?" On reading such appreciations, +it seems opportune to present those who admire genius and truth with a +very humble but conscientious study of Byron's great mind.</p> + +<p>Can it be objected, that the fact of the defense of a foreigner detracts +from the interest of the reader? Can a genius be a stranger to man, and +does not the earth seem too small to contain such exceptional beings?</p> + +<p>Our civilization, which has almost suppressed every physical barrier +that exists between the nations of the earth, has still further +annihilated those of the intellect: so much so, that Shakspeare, Dante, +Goethe, are as much revered in France as in their respective countries, +notwithstanding the difference of the idioms in which they have written. +The same will occur in respect to Lord Byron, whose name alone opposes +every barrier, and against whom the difference of nationality can not +form any obstacle. The language of genius is not of one country only, +but appertains to humanity in general: and God Himself has implanted its +rules in every heart.</p> + +<p>This book is not a regular nor a methodical biography. Nor is it an +apology; but rather a study, an analysis, the portrait of a great mind +seen under all its aspects, with no other decided intention on the part +of the writer than to tell the truth, and to rest upon indisputable +facts and rely upon unimpeachable testimony.</p> + +<p>The public now, it is said, can not bear eulogy, and cares only to know +the weak points of great men. We do not believe this to be the case. It +would be too severe a criticism of human nature in general, and of our +times in particular. In any case, we can not accept the statement as +correct, when applied to noble characters to whom we especially dedicate +this work. It may be, the reader will find in our essay beauties which +he had not yet observed, which have hitherto been disputed in the +original, and which less sympathetic natures than ours might term +complacent eulogies; but the fear of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12] </a></span> being blamed and of being +unpopular shall not deter us from our intention of bringing them forth. +No criticism can prevent our praising, when he deserves it, the man who +never knew the weaknesses of jealousy, and who never failed to bestow +eulogy upon every kind of talent without ever claiming any in return. In +publishing the book we are, moreover, certain that what to-day may +appear praise, to-morrow will be termed justice.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron shone at a period when a school called Romantic was in +progress of formation. That school wanted a type by which to mould its +heroes, as a planet requires a sun to give it light. It took Byron as +that type, and adorned him with all the qualities which pleased its +fancy, but the time has more than arrived when it is necessary that +truth should reveal him in his true light. My book is not likely to +dispel every cloud, but a few shades only add to the lustre and +brilliancy of a landscape.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13-14]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>LORD BYRON.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center">"Others form the man: I tell of him."—<span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>.</p></div> + + +<p>At all times the world has been very unjust; and (who does not know it?) +in the history of nations many an Aristides has paid with exile the +price of his virtues and his popularity. Great men, great countries, +whole nations, whole centuries, have had to bear up against injustice; +and the truth is, that vice has so often taken the place of virtue, evil +of good, and error of truth, some have been judged so severely and +others so leniently, that, could the book of redress be written, not +only would it be too voluminous, but it would also be too painful to +peruse. Honest people would feel shame to see the judgments before which +many a great mind has had to bend; and how often party spirit, either +religious or political, moved by the basest passions—such as hatred, +envy, rivalry, vengeance, fanaticism, intolerance, self-love—has been a +pretext for disfiguring in the eyes of the public the greatest and +noblest characters. It would then be seen how some censor (profiting by +the breach which circumstances, or even a slight fault on the part of +these great minds, may have made, and joining issue with other inferior +judges of character) has often succeeded in throwing a shade on their +glorious actions and in casting a slur upon their reputation, like those +little insects which from their number actually succeed, notwithstanding +their smallness, in darkening the rays of the sun. What is worse, +however, is, that when history has once been erroneously written, and a +hero has been put forward in colors which are not real, the public +actually becomes accessory to the deception practiced upon it: for it +becomes so enamored of the false type which has been held out to its +admiration that it will not loosen its hold on it. Public opinion, once +fixed, becomes a perfect despotism.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15] </a></span></p> + +<p>Never, perhaps, has this phenomenon shown itself more visibly and more +remarkably than in the case of Lord Byron. Not only was he a victim of +these obstinate prejudices, but in his case the annihilation of truth +and the creation of an imaginary type have been possible only at the +cost of common sense, and notwithstanding the most palpable +contradictions. So that he has really proved to be one of the most +curious instances of the levity with which human judgments are formed.</p> + +<p>We have elsewhere described the various phases of this phenomenon, one +of the principal causes of which has been the resolution to identify the +poet with the first heroes of his poems. Such a mode of proceeding was +as disloyal as it was contrary to all the received rules of literature. +It was inspired by hatred and vengeance, adopted by an idle and +frivolous public, and the result has proved to be something entirely +opposed to the truth.</p> + +<p>As long as such a whimsical creation was harmless, it amused Byron +himself and his friends; but the day came when it ceased to be harmless +without ceasing to be eccentric, and became to Byron a true robe of +Nessus.</p> + +<p>At his death the truth was demanded of his biographers; but the puppet +which had been erected stood there, and amazed the good, while it served +the malice of the wicked. His genius was analyzed, but no conscientious +study of his character was made, and Byron, as man, remained an unknown +personage.</p> + +<p>Yet among his biographers there were men of upright and enlightened +minds: they did not all seek to raise themselves at the cost of +depreciating him, nor to gain popularity by sparing individuals at the +expense of Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>If among them many proved to be black sheep, there were several, on the +other hand, who were sincere, and even kindly disposed. Yet not one did +full justice to Byron, not one defended him as he deserved, not one +explained his true character with the conscientious energy which in +itself constitutes authority. We shall speak elsewhere of the causes +which gave rise to this phenomenon. We shall mention the part which +public opinion played in England when suddenly displeased with a poet +who dared sound the deepest recesses of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16] </a></span> the human heart; and who as an +artist and a psychologist was interested in watching the growth of every +passion, and especially that of love, regardless of the conjugal +felicity which that public wished him to respect. It began to fear that +its enthusiasm for Lord Byron was a national crime, and by degrees +became accessory to the calumnies which were heaped upon his noble +character, on account of his supposed want of patriotism, and his +refusal to be blind to the defects of the mother-country. We shall see +how his biographers, preferring invention to strict adherence to the +truth, compounded a Lord Byron such as not to be any longer +recognizable, and to become even—especially in France—a caricature. Of +all this we shall speak hereafter. We shall now rather point to the +curious than to the unjust character of this fact, and notice the +contradictions to which Byron's biographers have lent themselves.</p> + +<p>All, or nearly all, have granted to him an infinity of virtues, and +naturally fine qualities—such as sensitiveness, generosity, frankness, +humility, charity, soberness, greatness of soul, force of wit, manly +pride, and nobility of sentiment; but, at the same time, they do not +sufficiently clear him of the faults which directly exclude the +above-mentioned qualities. The moral man does not sufficiently appear in +their writings: they do not sufficiently proclaim his character—one of +the finest that was ever allied to a great intellect. Why? Are these +virtues such that, like excellent and salutary substances, they become +poisoned when placed in contact within the same crucible?</p> + +<p>In this refusal to do justice there is contradiction; and as error +exists where contradiction lies, it is precisely in that contradiction +that we must seek the means of refuting error and assert the power of +truth.</p> + +<p>Nature always proceeds logically, and the effect is always in direct +analogy with its cause. Even in the moral world the precise character of +exact sciences must be found. If in a problem we meet with a +contradiction, are we not certain that its solution has been badly +worked out, and that we must begin it over again to find a true result? +The same reasoning holds good for the moral spheres. When a judgment has +been wrongly formed, that is, when there appears to be contradic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17] </a></span>tion +between various opinions, that judgment must be remodelled, the cause of +the error must be looked for, truth must be separated from falsehood, +and regard must be had to the law which obliges us to weigh impartially +every assertion, and to discuss equally the ayes and noes. Let this be +done for Lord Byron. Let us analyze facts, question the eye-witnesses of +his life, and peruse his admirable and simply-written letters, wherein +his soul has, so to say, photographed itself. Acts are unquestionably +more significative than words; yet if we wish to inquire into his +poetry, not by way of appreciating his genius (with which at present we +have nothing to do), but the nature of the man, let us do so loyally. +Let us not attribute to him the character which he lends to his heroes, +nor the customs which he attributes to them, simply because here and +there he has given to the one something of his manner, to the other some +of his sentiments; or because he has harbored them, in the belief that +hospitality can be extended to the wicked without the good suffering +from it.</p> + +<p>Let us first examine "Childe Harold,"—the poem which principally +contributed to mystify the public, and commenced that despotic type of +which we have already spoken.</p> + +<p>Childe Harold does not tell his own story. His life is told by a poet. +There are, therefore, two well-marked personages on the scene, perfectly +distinct and different from one another. The first is the young nobleman +in whom Byron intended to personify the precocious perversion of mind +and soul of the age, and in general the blaséd existence of the young +men of the day, of whom he had met many types at Cambridge, and on his +first launch into society. The second is the minstrel who tells his +story.</p> + +<p>The heart of the former is closed to all joy and to all the finest +impulses of the soul; whereas that of the other beats with delight at +the prospect of all that is noble, great, good, and just in the world. +Why identify the author rather with the one than with the other—with +the former rather than with the latter? Why take from him his own +sentiments, to give him those of his hero? That hero can not be called +mysterious, since in his preface Byron tells us himself the moral object +for which he has selected him. If Childe Harold personifies Lord Byron, +who will personify the poet? That poet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18] </a></span> (and he is no other than Lord +Byron) plays a far greater part than the hero. He is much oftener on the +scene. In the greater part of the poem the minstrel alone speaks. In the +ninety-three stanzas of which the first canto is composed, Harold is on +the scene during nineteen stanzas only, while the poet speaks in his own +name during the seventy-four other stanzas, displaying a beautiful soul +under various aspects, and exhibiting no melancholy other than that +inherent to all elevated poetry.</p> + +<p>As for the second canto, it opens with a monologue of the minstrel, and +Harold is forgotten until the sixteenth stanza. Then only does the +melancholy hero appear, to disappear and reappear again for a few +moments. But he rather seems to annoy the minstrel, who finishes at the +seventy-third stanza by dismissing him altogether; and from that moment +to the end of the canto the wretched and unamiable personage does not +reappear. To whom, then, belong all the admirable sentiments and all the +virtuous aspirations which we read of toward the end of the canto?—to +whom, if not to the minstrel himself? that is, to Lord Byron. What poet +has paid so noble a tribute to every virtue? Could that vigor and +freshness of mind which breathe upon the lips of the poet, and which +well belonged to him, suit the corrupted nature of Harold? If Byron +dismisses his hero so often, it is because he experiences toward him the +feelings of a logical moralist.</p> + +<p>Why then identify Lord Byron with a personage he himself disowns as his +prototype, both in his notes, in his preface, in his conversations; and +who is proved by facts, by the poem itself, and by the poet's logical +and moral reasoning, to be entirely different from his creation? It is +true that Byron conceived the unfortunate idea of surrounding his hero +by several incidents in his own existence, to place him in the social +circle to which he himself belonged, and to give him a mother and a +sister, a disappointed love, a Newstead Abbey like his own, and to make +him travel where he had travelled and experience the same adventures.</p> + +<p>That is true, and such an act of imprudence can only be explained, by +the confidence on which he relied that the identification could never +have been thought of. At twenty-one conscience speaks louder than +experience. But if we can jus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19] </a></span>tify the accusation of his having been +imprudent, can we justify his having been calumniated?</p> + +<p>Eight years after the publication of the second canto, Byron wrote the +third; and here the pilgrim occasionally appears, but so changed that he +seems to have been merged into the poet, and to form with him one person +only. Childe Harold's sorrows are those of Lord Byron, but there no +longer exists any trace of misanthropy or of satiety. His heart already +beats with that of the poet for chaste and devoted affections, for all +the most amiable, the most noble, and the most sublime of sentiments. He +loves the flowers, the smiling and glorious, the charming and sublime +aspect of nature.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Yet not insensible to all which here</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Awoke the jocund birds to early song</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">In glens which might have made even exile dear;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Though on his brow were graven lines austere,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And tranquil sternness, which had ta'en the place</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Of feelings fiercer far but less severe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Joy was not always absent from his face,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">But o'er it in such scenes would steal with transient trace."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>No longer, then, is satiety depicted upon the pilgrim's brow, but "lines +austere;" and the poet seems so desirous of proving to us that Harold is +metamorphosed, that when he expresses sentiments full of sympathy, +humanity, and goodness, his horror for war and his dislike for the +beauties of the Rhine, because—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"A thousand battles have assail'd thy banks,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>he takes care to add—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Thus Harold inly said"....<br /> +</p> + +<p>Harold, then, has ceased to be the weary <i>blasé</i> pilgrim of twenty-one, +who in the first canto remains unmoved in presence of the attractions of +Florence the beautiful, who inspired the poet with such different +sentiments that in the midst even of a storm which threatens to swallow +him up he actually finds strength enough to express his sentiments of +real love for the lovely absent one—of a love, indeed, which is +evidently returned. His heart, like the poet's, now beats with a pure +love, and causes him to chant the absence of his friend in the most +beautiful strain. Where is the old Harold? It would seem as if the poet, +tired of a companion so disagreeable and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20] </a></span> so opposed to his tastes, and +wishing to get rid of him but not knowing how, had first changed and +moulded him to his own likeness by giving him his own sentiments, his +own great heart, his own pains, his own affections, and, not finding the +change natural, had dismissed him altogether. And so it appears, for +after the fifty-fifth stanza of the third canto, Childe Harold +disappears forever. Thus at the beginning of the fourth canto, which was +published a year after, under the auspices of an Italian sky, the reader +finds himself in the presence of the poet only. He meets in him a great +and generous soul, but the victim of the most odious and unmerited +persecution, who takes his revenge in forgiving the wrongs which are +done to him, and who reserves all his energies to consecrate them to the +love of that which is lovable, to the admiration of that which calls for +it, and who at twenty-nine years of age is imbued with Christian and +philosophical qualities, which his wearied hero could never have +possessed.</p> + +<p>Why then again have identified Byron with Childe Harold? For what +reason? It strikes us, that the simplest notions of fairness require us +at least to take into account the words of the author himself, and to +listen to the protestations of a man who despised unmerited praise more +than unjust reproof.</p> + +<p>"A fictitious character," says Byron, "is introduced for the sake of +giving some connection to the piece....</p> + +<p>"It had been easy to varnish over his faults, to make him do more and +express less, but he never was intended as an example, further than to +show that early perversion of mind and morals leads to satiety of past +pleasures and disappointment in new ones, and that even the beauties of +nature and the stimulus of travel are lost on a soul so constituted, or +rather misdirected.</p> + +<p>"It has been suggested to me by friends, on whose opinions I set a high +value, that in this fictitious character, 'Childe Harold,' I may incur +the suspicion of having intended some real personage: this I beg leave +once for all to disclaim—Harold is the child of imagination, for the +purpose I have stated. In some very trivial particulars, and those +merely local, there might be grounds for such a notion: but in the main +points, I should hope, none whatever."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21] </a></span></p> + +<p>Warned by his friends of the danger which there was for him being +identified with his hero, he paused before publishing the poem. He had +written it rather by way of recreation than for any other motive; and +when Dallas expressed to him his great desire to see the works +published, Byron told him how unwilling he was that it should appear in +print, and thus wrote to him, after having given way to Dallas's wishes +in the matter:—</p> + +<p>"I must wish to avoid identifying Childe Harold's character with mine. +If in certain passages it is believed that I wished to identify my hero +with myself, believe that is only in certain parts, and even then I +shall not allow it. As for the manor of Childe Harold being an old +monastic residence, I thought I might better describe what I have seen +than what I invent. I would not for worlds be a man like my hero."</p> + +<p>A year after, in writing to Moore on the occasion of dedicating his +"Corsair" to him, after saying that not only had his heroes been +criticised, but that he had almost been made responsible for their acts +as if they were personal to himself, he adds:</p> + +<p>"Those who know me are undeceived, and those who do not I have little +interest in undeceiving. I have no particular desire that any but my +acquaintance should think the author better than the beings of his +imagining; but I can not help a little surprise, and perhaps amusement, +at some odd critical exceptions in the present instance, when I see +several bards in very reputable plight, and quite exempted from all +participation in the faults of their heroes, who nevertheless might be +found with little more morality than the Giaour; and perhaps—but no—I +must admit Childe Harold to be a very repulsive personage, and as to his +identity, those who like it must give him whatever <i>alias</i> they please."</p> + +<p>And in order to embrace the whole of his life in these quotations, we +will add what he said at Cephalonia, to Dr. Kennedy, shortly before his +death:—</p> + +<p>"I can not conceive why people will always mix up my own character and +opinions, with those of the imaginary beings which, as a poet, I have +the right and liberty to draw."</p> + +<p>"They certainly do not spare your lordship in that respect," replied +Kennedy; "and in 'Childe Harold,' 'Lara,' the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22] </a></span> 'Giaour,' and 'Don Juan,' +they are too much disposed to think that you paint in many instances +yourself, and that these characters are only the vehicles for the +expression of your own sentiments and feelings."</p> + +<p>"They do me great injustice," he replied, "and what was never before +done to any poet.... But even in 'Don Juan' I have been misunderstood. I +take a vicious and unprincipled character, and lead him through those +ranks of society whose high external accomplishments cover and cloak +internal and secret vices, and I paint the natural effects of such +characters, and certainly they are not so highly colored as we find them +in real life."</p> + +<p>"This may be true," said Kennedy, "but the question is, what are your +motives and object for painting nothing but scenes of vice and folly?"</p> + +<p>"To remove the cloak which the manners and maxims of society," said his +lordship, "throw over their secret sins, and show them to the world as +they really are. You have not," added he, "been so much in high and +noble life as I have been; but if you had fully entered into it, and +seen what was going on, you would have felt convinced that it was time +to unmask the specious hypocrisy, and show it in its native colors!"</p> + +<p>Kennedy having then remarked that the lower and middling classes of +society never entertained the opinion that the highest classes exhibited +models of piety and virtue, and were, indeed, disposed to believe them +worse than they really were, Byron replied:—</p> + +<p>"It is impossible you can believe the higher classes of society worse +than they are in England, France, and Italy, for no language can +sufficiently paint them."</p> + +<p>"But still, my lord, granting this, how is your book calculated to +improve them, and by what right, and under what title do you too come +forward in this undertaking?"</p> + +<p>"By the right," he replied, "which every one has who abhors vice united +with hypocrisy. My plan is to lead Don Juan through various ranks of +society and show that wherever you go vice is to be found."</p> + +<p>The doctor then observed, that satire had never done any good, or +converted one man from vice to virtue, and that while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23] </a></span> his satires were +useless, they would call upon his head the disapproval both of the +virtuous and the wicked.</p> + +<p>"But it is strange," answered Byron, "that I should be attacked on all +sides, not only from magazines and reviews, but also from the pulpit. +They preach against me as an advocate of infidelity and immorality, and +I have missed my mark sadly in having succeeded in pleasing nobody. That +those whose vices I depicted and unmasked should cry out is natural, but +that the friends of religion should do so is surprising: for you know," +said he, smiling, "that I am assisting you in my own way as a poet, by +endeavoring to convince people of their depravity; for it is a doctrine +of yours—is it not?—that the human heart is corrupted; and therefore +if I show that it is so in those ranks which assume the external marks +of politeness and benevolence,—having had the best opportunities, and +better than most poets, of observing it,—am I not doing an essential +service to your cause, by first convincing them of their sins, and thus +enabling you to throw in your doctrine with more effect?"</p> + +<p>"All this is true," said Kennedy; "but you have not shown them what to +do, however much you may have shown them what they are. You are like the +surgeon who tears the bandages from the numerous wounds of his ulcerated +patients, and, instead of giving fresh remedies, you expose them to the +air and disgust of every bystander, who, laughing, exclaims, 'How filthy +these fellows are!'"</p> + +<p>"But I shall not be so bad as that," said Lord Byron; "<i>you shall see +what a winding up I shall give to the story</i>."</p> + +<p>The end was to justify and give a moral to every thing. While reproving, +however, this system of identification, which not only leads to error +but also to calumny, can it, however, be denied that there was not some +reason, if not to justify it, at least to explain it? To deny that there +is, would, we think, be to commit another error. The nature of Lord +Byron's genius, the circumstances of his life, the innate qualities of +his heart and soul, were unquestionably aids to his detractors.</p> + +<p>Upon the measure of the relations which existed between reality and +fiction in his poems, and especially as applied to his own history, here +are the words of Moore:—</p> + +<p>"As the mathematician of old required but a spot to stand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24] </a></span> upon, to be +able, as he boasted, to move the world, so a certain degree of +foundation in fact seemed necessary to Byron, before that lever which he +knew how to apply to the world of the passions could be wielded by him. +So small, however, was, in many instances, the connection with reality +which satisfied him, that to aim at tracing through his stories these +links with his own fate and fortunes, which were after all, perhaps, +visible but to his own fancy, would be a task as uncertain as unsafe; +and this remark applies not only to the 'Bride of Abydos,' but to the +'Corsair,' 'Lara,' and all the other beautiful fictions that followed, +in which, though the emotions expressed by the poet may be in general +regarded as vivid recollections of what had at different times agitated +his own bosom, there are but little grounds, however he might himself +occasionally encourage such a supposition, for connecting him personally +with the groundwork or incidents of the stories."</p> + +<p>To analyze the analogies and differences which existed between the +personal character of Byron and that of the poet would form a very +curious psychological study. It would be even an act of justice toward +his memory, but one which would prove too long, and would ill suit these +pages. Let us merely declare, that both analogies and differences have +existed, and that if the same can not be said of him as has been said of +men of less renown, "the poet is different from the man," it must be +allowed that in Byron the two characters were associated without being +coupled. This association did not exist between himself and the +creatures of his fancy, but merely with the principal features of his +poetry, their energy and sensitiveness. As to certain analogies between +his heroes, or between them and himself, when they really exist, they +should be pointed out; the duty of criticism being to discern and to +point to the nature and limits of these analogies.</p> + +<p>When Byron began his travels, his genius ever sought an outlet. Too +young to have as yet much experience, he had only made known what were +his tendencies.</p> + +<p>The education of his genius began in his childhood, on the romantic +banks of the Dee and on the shores of the ocean; in the midst of the +Scottish firs, in the house of his mother,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25] </a></span> which was peopled with +relics of the past; and at Newstead Abbey, situated in the heart of the +romantic forest of Sherwood, which is surrounded by the ruins of the +great Norman abbeys, and teems with traditional recollections of Robin +Hood. The character of that sympathetic chief of the outlaws, who was a +nobleman by birth, and who was always followed by the lovely Marian, +dressed up as a page; his generosity, his courage, his cleverness, his +mixture of virtue and vice, his pride, his buoyant and chivalrous +nature, his death even, which was so touching, must, to our mind, have +produced a powerful impression upon one who, like Byron, was gifted with +as much heart as imagination. At least the poet's fancy, if not the acts +of the man himself, must have been influenced by these early +impressions; and, no doubt, Conrad, and other heroes of his early poems, +must have sprung from the poet's recollections of the legendary stories +in the midst of which he had been nursed. In any case, however, the +impressions which he had received did not affect his nature.</p> + +<p>He had, notwithstanding his youthful years, been able to show the +measure, not the tendency of his genius, as well as his aversion for all +that is artificial, superficial, insipid, and effeminate; and he had +proved that the two great characteristics of his nature were energy and +sensitiveness.</p> + +<p>An education thus begun was to be continued and matured during his first +voyage among scenes the most poetical and romantic in the world; in the +glorious East, where there exists a perpetual contrast between the +passionate nature of man and the soft hue of the heavens under the +canopy of which he lives.</p> + +<p>The manners, character, ideas, and singular passions of those races, +which civilization has not yet tamed down; their energy, which often +betrays itself in the perpetration of the greatest crimes, and as +frequently in the practice of the finest qualities; and the life which +Byron was forced to lead among them, all produced a great impression +upon his mind, and became precious materials to help the development of +his intellect. In the same way that, as it has been said, Salvator +Rosa's encounters with bandits contributed to the development of his +talent, so did the adventures of Lord Byron du<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26] </a></span>ring this first journey +contribute to form his particular taste. Had he always remained in the +midst of extremely civilized nations, in which poetry and the great +passions are lost, and the heart too often becomes cold, his mind might +have developed itself in a less brilliant and original manner.</p> + +<p>It was this extraordinary union of energy and sensitiveness in Byron +which was to determine the choice of subjects. No doubt the desire to +produce an effect had a part in the selection, especially at the dawn of +his genius; and this would seem evident in the picture of satiated +pleasure as represented by Childe Harold, and in the strange nature of +Manfred. But this is only a portion of the reality. His principal +qualities were the real arbiters in the selection of subjects which he +made. God has not given to us all the same voice. The largest trees—the +oaks—require the help of storms to make their voices heard, while the +reed only needs the help of the summer breeze.</p> + +<p>Byron's attention was ever directed to what was uncommon, either in +nature or in the human heart; either in good or in evil, either in the +ordinary course of things or beyond its limits. To the study of placid +nature he preferred that of that soul which, though less well regulated, +yet rises superior to fortune by its energy and will.</p> + +<p>The spark which lit up his genius could not live in that goodness which +constituted the groundwork of his nature, but in passion, called forth +by the sight of great misfortunes, great faults, great crimes, in fact, +by the sight of all which attracted or repelled him, which was most in +harmony with his energetic character, or at greatest variance with his +sensitive nature. One of the motives which actuated his mind was +sympathy—the other, antipathy; which exercised over him the same kind +of fascination which the bird feels whom the serpent's glance has +fascinated, or like the unaccountable impulse which causes a man to +throw himself down the precipice on the verge of which he stands.</p> + +<p>The various aspects of nature exercised a similar influence over him. +With his exquisite sense of their beauties, Byron no doubt often +described the enchanting climates in the midst of which he placed the +action of his poems; but his pen had always a manly action, with a +mixture of grace and vigor in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27] </a></span> it quite inimitable. His descriptions, +however, always appeared to be secondary objects in his mind, and rather +constituted the frames which encircled the man whom he wished to depict.</p> + +<p>One would say that the soft beauties of a landscape and the playful +zephyrs which caress the crests of little waves were too effeminate +subjects for him to dwell upon. His preferences evidently point to the +savage side of nature, to the struggles between physical forces, to the +sublimities of the tempest, and almost, I would say, to a certain +disorganization of nature; provided, of course, all is restored to order +the moment such a disorganization threatens the existence of beauty in +art or in the moral world.</p> + +<p>At that time, what Byron could not find in his real and historical +subject, he took from another reality, which was himself,—that is, his +own qualities, the circumstances of his life, his tastes; without ever +inquiring whether Conrad's fear at the sight of the mysterious drop of +blood on Gulnare's forehead was that of Byron, whether the Venetian +renegade Alp could really experience the horror which Byron did at +Constantinople at the sight of dogs feasting upon human carcasses; or +whether the association of the qualities with which he idealized his +heroes would not induce psychologists to accuse him of sinning against +truth, of destroying the unity of a Corsair's nature.</p> + +<p>In this Lord Byron confided in his powers. He felt that the love of +truth, and of what is beautiful, was too strong in him ever to depart +from or cause him to violate the essential rules of art; but he wished +to remain a poet while trusting in reality.</p> + +<p>When he went to the East, and found himself there in contact with +outward circumstances so in harmony with the natural bent of his views, +and in presence of men like Ali Pasha, of whose victims he could almost +hear the moans and the screams "in the clime"</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Where all save the spirit of man is divine;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Where wild as the accents of lovers' farewell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Are the hearts which they bear and the tales which they tell,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>he felt that he was at last in the land most likely to fire his natural +genius, and to permit of his satisfying the imperious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28] </a></span> want which his +observing mind constantly experienced of resting upon reality and upon +truth. The terrible Ali Pasha of Yanina was especially the type which +attracted his notice. "Ali Pasha," says Galt, "is at the bottom of all +his Oriental heroes. His 'Corsair' is almost the history of Ali Pasha."</p> + +<p>In the "Bride of Abydos" the old Giaffir is again Ali. As for "Lara," it +is thought that Byron conceived him on being very strongly impressed by +the sight of a nobleman who was accused of murder, and who was pointed +out to him at the Cagliari theatre. "I always thought," says Galt, who +was present on the occasion, "that this incident had a share in the +conception of 'Lara,' so small are the germs which fructify genius." The +"Giaour" is due to a personal adventure of Byron's, in which he played, +as was his wont, a most energetic and generous part. The origin of +"Manfred" lies in the midst of sublime Alpine scenery, where, on a rock, +Byron discovered an inscription bearing the names of two brothers, one +of whom had murdered the other at that spot. The history of Venice +inspired him with Alp the renegade, who, disgusted with the unjust +severities of his countrymen, turned Mohammedan and swore vengeance +against the land of his birth.</p> + +<p>It is, however, indispensable to remark, that in each of these +characters there are two distinct realities. The one tries, by a display +of too much energy, to overstep the limits of the natural; the other +brings the subject back to its true proportions by idealizing it. The +first is the result of the poet's observations of men and their customs, +or of his study of history; the other, by the impossibility which he +knows to exist in him of departing from the rules of art by pushing +reality to the point of making of it a positive suffering. In the first +case his heroes are like one another by their analogy in the use and +abuse of strength; in the other they are like Byron, because he has +almost instilled a portion of his own life into them, in order to +idealize them.</p> + +<p>Conrad is the real pirate of the Ægean Sea: independent, haughty, +terrible in battle, full of energy and daring such as becomes the chief +of corsairs, and such as Byron's study of the country where the action +lies pointed out to him that such a man should be placed. But the poet +describes himself when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29] </a></span> he makes Conrad, at the risk of his own life, +save women from a harem, or shudder at the sight of a drop of blood on +the brow of a lovely maiden. The spot on Gulnare's forehead, while +causing him to suspect some crime, banishes all her charms in his eyes, +and inspires him with the greater horror from the fact that the love +which she had sworn him probably inspired her with the foul act, to save +his life and restore him to liberty. He accuses himself with having been +the involuntary cause of it, and feels that his gratitude will be a +torture; his former love for Gulnare an impossibility. We find Byron's +own nature again in the ascetic rule of life to which Conrad has +subjected himself, and in his passionate and ideal tenderness for +Medora, whose love, in his eyes, surpasses all the happiness of this +world, and whose death plunges him into irretrievable despair.</p> + +<p>In the "Siege of Corinth," Alp is the real type of the historical +Venetian renegade, who is incapable of forgiveness, and who makes use of +all his energies to gratify his revenge. But he represents Byron when he +speaks of the impressions which he felt under the starry canopy of +heaven the night before the battle, when his imagination, taking him +back to the happy, innocent days of his childhood, he contrasts them +with the present, which for him is one of remorse, and when there +glimmer still in his soul faint lights of humanity which make him turn +away from the horrible sight of dogs devouring the dead bodies of men.</p> + +<p>Byron speaks in his own person in the introduction of the "Giaour," +which is replete with most exquisite beauty. In it he opens to the +reader unexplored fields of delight, leads him through delicious +countries where all is joy for the senses, where all recollections are a +feast for the soul, and where his love of moral beauty is as strongly +marked in his praise of olden Greece, as is his condemnation of modern +degraded Greece. Byron speaks again in his own name when he puts +invectives in the mouth of the Mussulman fisherman, and makes him curse +so strongly the crime of the Giaour and the criminal himself, whose +despair is the expiation of his crimes and the beautiful triumph of +morality.</p> + +<p>In the "Bride of Abydos" (where the terrible Ali again comes forward in +the shape of the old Giaffir) the amiable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30] </a></span> and unfortunate Selim and the +poet share the real sentiments of Byron. Byron is also himself when he +adorns his heroine with every grace and perfection of body and soul, and +also whenever it is necessary to idealize in order that a too rigorous +imitation of reality may not offend either the laws of art or the +feelings of the reader. As for "Don Juan," it is only fair to say that +he in a measure deserved the persecution which it brought upon him. Yet, +if we judge the poem with no preconceived severity, we shall find that, +with the exception of certain passages where he went beyond the limits +prescribed to satire, from his hatred of hypocrisy, and also at times as +a revenge against his persecutors, the poem is charming. These passages +he intended to suppress,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> but death prevented him. This is greatly to +be regretted, for otherwise "Don Juan" would have been the most charming +satirical poem in existence, and especially had not the last four +cantos, written in Greece, been destroyed. The scene lay in England, and +the views expressed in them explained many things which can never now be +known. In allowing such an act to be committed for the sake of sparing +the feelings of some influential persons and national susceptibilities, +Byron's friends failed in their duty to his memory, for the last four +cantos gave the key to the previous ones, and justified them. From the +moment Byron conceived "Don Juan" he steeled his heart against feeling; +and he kept to his resolution not to give way to his natural goodness of +disposition, wishing the poem to be a satire as well as an act of +revenge. Here and there, however, his great soul pierces through, and +shows itself in such a true light that Byron's portrait could be better +drawn from passages of "Don Juan," than from any other of his poems.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> +We have sufficiently proved, we think, that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31] </a></span> uniform character of +Byron's heroes, which has been blamed by the poet's enemies, was merely +the reflection of the moral beauty which he drew from himself. It might +almost be said that the qualities with which he had been gifted by +Heaven conspired against him.</p> + +<p>We have been led to dwell upon this phase of his literary career, at the +risk even of tiring the patience of the reader, from the necessity which +we believe exists to destroy the phantom of identification which has +been invoked, and to explain the moral nature of Byron in its true light +before analyzing the poet under other aspects. It is not in "Harold" or +in "Conrad," nor in any of his Oriental poems, that we are likely to +trace the moral character of Byron, for, although it would be easy to +detach the author's sentiments from those of the personages of these +poems, yet they might offer a pretext of blame to those who hate to look +into a subject to discover the truth which does not appear at first +sight. Nor is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32] </a></span> it in "Manfred"—the only one of his poems wherein, +perhaps, reason may be said to be at fault, owing to the sickness under +which his soul labored at the time when it was written, and to his +diseased imagination, produced by solitude and unmerited grief. In his +lyrical poems Byron's soul must be sought. There he speaks and sings in +his own name, expresses his own sentiments, breathes his own thoughts; +or, again, in his elegies and in his miscellaneous poems, in his dramas, +in his mysteries, nay, even in his satires—the noble and courageous +independence of which has never been surpassed by any satirist, ancient +or modern—and generally in all the poems which he wrote in Italy, and +which might almost be called his second form. In these poems no medium +is any longer required between his soul and that of the reader. It is +not possible any longer to make any mistake about him in these. The +melancholy and the energy displayed in them can not serve any more to +give him the mask of a Conrad, or of a Harold, or of a misanthrope, or +of a haughty individual, but they place in relief what there is of +tender, amiable, affectionate sublime in those chosen beings whom God +occasionally sends upon earth to testify here below of the things +above:—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Per far di colassu fede fra noi."—<span class="smcap">Petrarch</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Thus, in his elegy upon the death of Thyrza, "far too beautiful," says +Moore, "and too pure to have been inspired by a mortal being," what +pathos, what sensitiveness! What charm in his sonnets to Guinevre! What +soft melancholy, what profound and intimate knowledge of the immortality +and spirituality of our soul, in his Hebrew melodies! "They seem as +though they had been inspired by Isaiah and written by Shakspeare," says +the Very Rev. Dr. Stanley, Dean of Westminster. What touching family +affection in his domestic poems, and what generosity in the avowal of +certain wrongs! What great and moral feeling pervade the two last cantos +of "Childe Harold," melancholy though they be, like all things which are +beautiful! How one feels that the pain they tell of has its origin in +unmerited persecution, and how his intellect came to his aid, and +enabled him to bear with calmness the uncertainties incident to our +nature! What greatness of soul in the forgiveness of what to others +would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33] </a></span> seem unpardonable! What love of humanity and of its rights! What +hatred of injustice, tyranny, and oppression in the "Ode to Venice," in +"The Lament of Tasso," in "The Prophecy of Dante," and in general in all +his latter poems, even in the "Isle," a poem little known, which was +written a short time before he left Genoa for Greece. Here, more than in +any other of his poems, we see the admirable peace of mind which he had +created for himself, and how far too high his great intellect soared to +be any longer moved by the world's injustice.</p> + +<p>Quotations from his poems would be impossible. How choose without +regretting what has been discarded? They must be read; and those must be +pitied who do not feel morally better after having read them.</p> + +<p>This is precisely what has been least done up to the present time: +people have been content with reading his early poems, and with seeking +Byron in "Childe Harold" or in the heroes of his Oriental poems; which +is about as just as to look for Shakspeare in Iago, Milton in Satan, +Goethe in Mephistopheles, or Lamartine in the blasphemies of his ninth +Meditation.</p> + +<p>Thus French critics,—disposed to identify the man with the imaginary +beings of his poems, and neglecting to seek him where they could have +found him, relying upon judgments formed in England, and too often by +people prejudiced against Byron,—have themselves adopted false views +with respect to the author and his works. Thus, again, poetry—which +without any preconceived teaching or any particular doctrine of its own, +without transgressing the rules laid down by art, moved the soul, +purified and elevated it, and taught it to despise the base and cowardly +desires of nature, and excited in it the admiration of all that is noble +and heroic,—was declared to be suspicious even in France, because too +often it had proclaimed openly the truth where one would have wished +truth to have been disguised. Many would fain have thought otherwise, +but they preferred remaining silent, and to draw from that poetry the +poetical riches of which they might be in want.</p> + +<p>Our intention being to consecrate a chapter to the examination of the +moral tendency of Byron's poetry, we will not now say more. We must add, +however, that these views which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34] </a></span> had been so easily adopted in France +were not those of the majority of right-thinking persons in England, +although they dared not proclaim their opinions then as they can now.</p> + +<p>I shall only quote the opinion of two Englishmen of great merit (Moore +and Sir Egerton Brydges), who can neither one nor the other be suspected +of partiality; the first, on account of his great fear of ever wounding +the susceptibilities of his countrymen, the other by the independence +and nobility of his character.</p> + +<p>"How few are the pages in his poems," says Moore, "even if perused +rapidly, which by their natural tendency toward virtue, or some splendid +tribute to the greatness of God's works, or by an explosion of natural +piety more touching than any homily, do not entitle him to be admitted +in the purest temple of which Christianity may have the keep!"—<i>Moore</i>, +vol. ii.</p> + +<p>Sir Egerton Brydges, after having fully appreciated the poems of Lord +Byron, says:——</p> + +<p>"They give to the reader's best instincts an impulse which elevates, +purifies, instructs, charms, and affords us the noblest and purest of +joys."—<i>Sir E. Brydges</i>, vol. x. p. 141.</p> + +<p>These quotations perhaps will be found too many, but are they not +necessary? Is truth which can be so easily changed equally easy to +re-establish? Are not a thousand words wanted to restore a reputation +which a light word or, may be, slight malice has tarnished? If the +author of these pages only expressed individual opinions without +adducing any proof, that is to say, without accompanying them with the +disinterested and enlightened testimonies of people who have known Byron +personally, these volumes might gain in interest by being condensed in a +shorter space.</p> + +<p>But in shortening the road would the author attain the desired end? +would the self-imposed task be fulfilled? would his or her own +convictions become those of others? Should not authors sacrifice +themselves to their subject in all works inspired by a devoted spirit? +Shall it be said that oftentimes one has wished to prove what had +already been conceded by every body? that the value of the proofs +adduced is lessened by the fact that they are nearly all already known? +In answer, and without noticing the words "nearly all," he might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35] </a></span> say +that, as truth has several aspects, one may almost, without mentioning +new facts, arrive at being what might be called the guide in the tour +round the soul, and fathom its depth in search of the reality; just as +when we have looked at all the sides of a picture, we return to it, in +order to find in it fresh beauties which may have escaped our notice on +a first inspection. There are certain souls, to fathom which it is +absolutely necessary to employ a retrospective method; in the same way +that the pictures, for instance, of Salvator Rosa enchant on close +inspection of the great beauties which in some lights seem hid by a mass +of clouds.</p> + +<p>"One can hardly employ too many means," says Ste. Beuve, "to know a man; +that is, to understand him to be something more than an intellectual +being. As long as we have not asked ourselves a certain number of +questions about such and such an author, and as long as they have not +been satisfactorily answered, we are not sure of having completely made +him out, even were such questions to be wholly irrelevant to the +subjects upon which he has written.</p> + +<p>"What did he think upon religious matters?</p> + +<p>"How did the aspect of nature affect him?</p> + +<p>"How did he behave in regard to women?</p> + +<p>"How about money?</p> + +<p>"What rules did he follow?</p> + +<p>"What was his daily life? etc., etc.</p> + +<p>"Finally, what was his peculiar vice and foible? Every man has one.</p> + +<p>"Not one of these questions is unimportant in order to appreciate an +author or his book, provided the book does not treat of pure +mathematics; and especially if it is a literary work, that is to say, a +book wherein there is something about every thing."<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> + +<p>Be this opinion of an eminent critic our rule and an encouragement to +our efforts.</p> + +<p>We are well aware that in France, now-a-days, writers do not like to use +the same materials in describing a character as are used by other +nations, and especially by England. A study of this kind in France must +not be a judgment pro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36] </a></span>nounced upon the individual who is the object of +it, and still less an inquiry. The qualities and defects of a man of +genius do not constitute the principal business of the artist. Man is +now rather examined as a work of art or as an object of science. When +reason has made him out, and intellectual curiosity has been satisfied, +the wish to understand him is not carried out further. The subject is +abandoned, lest the reader may be tired.</p> + +<p>This may be good reasoning in many cases; but in the present perhaps the +best rule is "in medio tutissimus." When a good painting is spoilt by +overpolish, to wash the polish off is not to restore it to its former +appearance. To arrive at this last result, however, no pains should be +spared; and upon this principle we must act with regard to Byron. In +psychological studies the whole depends upon all the parts, and what may +at first seem unimportant may prove to be the best confirmation of the +thesis. To be stopped by details (I might almost say repetitions) would +therefore be to exhibit a fear in adducing proof.</p> + +<p>Can it be said that we have not sufficiently condemned? To add this +interest to the volume would not have been a difficult task.</p> + +<p>To attack is easier than to defend; but we should then have had to +invent our facts, and, at the same time, to add romance to history.</p> + +<p>The world, says a great moralist of our times, prefers a vice which +amuses it rather than a virtue which bores it; but our respect for the +reader convinces us that the adoption of such a means of arriving at +success would forfeit their respect for us and be as repugnant to their +sense of justice as to our own. As regards Byron, the means have more +than once been employed, and with the more success by those who have +united to their skill the charms of style.</p> + +<p>But in claiming no talent, no power to interest, and in refusing to +appear as an author from motives of pusillanimity, idleness, or +self-love, is one less excusable for hiding the truth when one is +acquainted with it?</p> + +<p>If it is the duty of a man of honor and a Christian to come to the +rescue of a victim to violence when it is in one's power, is it not +incumbent upon one to raise a voice in the defense<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37] </a></span> of those who can no +longer resent an insult, when we know that they are wrongly accused? To +be silent under such circumstances would be productive of remorse; and +the remorse is greater when felt on the score of those whose genius +constitutes the monopoly of the whole world, and forms part of the +common treasure of humanity, which enjoins that it should be respected.</p> + +<p>Is not their reputation a part of the inherited treasure? To allow such +reputation to be outraged would, in our minds, be as culpable as to hide +a portion of a treasure which is not our own.</p> + +<p>"Truth," says Lamartine, "does not require style. Its light shines of +itself; its appearance is its proof."</p> + +<p>In publishing these pages, written conscientiously and scrupulously, we +confide in the opinion expressed above in the magic language of the man +who can create any prestige. If the reader finds these guarantees of +truth sufficient, and deigns to accept our conscientious remarks with +indulgence and kindness; if, after examining Byron's character under all +its aspects, after repeating his words, recalling his acts, and speaking +of his life—especially of that which he led in Italy—and mentioning +the various impressions which he produced upon those who knew him +personally, we are justified in the reader's opinion in having +endeavored to clear the reality from all the clouds which imagination +has gathered round the person of Byron, and in trying to earn for his +memory a little sympathy by proclaiming the truth, in place of the +antipathy which falsehood has hitherto obtained for him, our object will +have been obtained.</p> + +<p>To endeavor to restore Byron's reputation is the more necessary, since +Moore himself, who is his best biographer, failed not only in his duty +as a friend, but as the historian of the poet's life: for he knew the +truth, and dared not proclaim it. Who, for instance, could better inform +us of the cause which led to Byron's separation from his wife? And yet +Moore chose to keep the matter secret.</p> + +<p>Who was better acquainted with the conduct of Byron's colleagues at the +time of his conjugal differences—with the curious proposals which were +made to him by them to recover their good graces—with his refusal to +regain them at such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38] </a></span> a cost—with the persecution to which he was, after +that, subjected—with the names of the people who instigated a popular +demonstration against him—with all the bad treatment which obliged him +to quit England? And yet has Moore spoken of it?<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p>Who, better than Moore, could tell of the friends on whom Byron relied, +and who at the time of his divorce sided with Lady Byron, and even went +so far as to aggravate the case by falsely publishing reports of his +having ill-treated Lady Byron and discharged loaded guns in order to +frighten her?</p> + +<p>Who was better acquainted with the fact that the last cantos of "Don +Juan," written in Greece, had been destroyed in England, and that the +journal which he kept after his departure from Genoa had been destroyed +in Greece? Moore knew it very well, and did not reveal these facts, lest +he should create enemies for himself. He actually went so far as to +pretend that Byron never wrote any thing in Greece.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39] </a></span></p> + +<p>Who better than Moore knew that Byron was not irreligious?—And yet he +pretended that he was. And finally, Who was better aware that Byron's +greatest aim was to be useful to humanity, and yet encouraged the belief +that Byron's expedition to Greece was purely to satisfy the desire that +people should speak of him as a superior man? In a few words, Moore has +not made the best of Byron's qualities, has kept silence over many +things which might have enhanced his character in public opinion; and +wished, above all, to show the greatness of his poetical genius, which +was never questioned. One would almost say that Moore did not like Byron +to be too well spoken of: for whenever he praises, he ever accompanies +the praise with a blame, a "but" or an "if;" and instead of openly +contradicting accusations which he knew to be false, and honestly +proclaiming the truth, he, too, preferred to excuse the poet's supposed +shortcomings. Moore was wanting in courage. He was good, amiable, and +clever; but weak, poor, and a lover of rank—where, naturally, he met +with many political enemies of Byron. He, therefore, dared not then tell +the truth, having too many interests to consider. Hence his concessions +and his sluggishness in leaving the facts as they were; and in many +cases, when it was a question between the departed Byron and one of his +high detractors, the one sacrificed was the dead friend who could no +longer defend himself. All such considerations for the living were +wrongs toward the memory of Byron.</p> + +<p>The gravest accusation, however, to which Moore is open is, that he did +not preserve the Memoirs which Byron gave him on the sworn condition +that nothing should prevent their publication. The promise thus given +had restored peace to Byron's mind, so confident was he that it would be +fulfilled. To have broken his word is a crime for which posterity will +never forgive Moore. Can it be alleged, by way of excuse,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40] </a></span> that he gave +extracts from it? But besides the authenticity of the extracts, which +might be questioned, of what value can be a composition like Moore's in +presence of Byron's very words? No one can pretend to be identified with +such a mind as Byron's in the expression of his own feelings; and, least +of all, a character like Moore's.</p> + +<p>The "Memoirs," then, which were the justification of Byron's life; the +last cantos, which were the justification of the poet and of the man; +the journal, which showed his prudence and sagacity beyond his age, +which by the simple relation of facts proved how he had got rid of all +the imperfections of youth, and at last become the follower of wisdom, +so much so that he would have been one of the most virtuous men in +England—all have been lost to the world: they have descended with him +into the tomb, and thus made room for the malice of his detractors. +Hence the duty of not remaining silent on the subject of this +highly-gifted man.</p> + +<p>In restoring, however, facts to their true light, we do not pretend to +make Byron appear always superior to humanity in his conduct as a man +and a poet. Could he, with so sensitive and passionate a nature as his +was, and living only that period when passions are strongest, have +always acted as those who from age no longer are affected by them? If it +is easy not to give way to our passions at seventy, is it equally so at +twenty or at thirty?</p> + +<p>Persecuted as he was, could Byron be expected to remain unmoved? If his +passion for truth made him inexorable in some of his poems; if his +passion for justice allowed his pen at times to go beyond the limits +which it should have respected; if even at times he was unjust, because +he had been too much injured and irritated,—he undoubtedly would have +compensated for his involuntary and slight offenses, had he not been +carried off so early.</p> + +<p>As for the imperfection of these pages,—once we have dissipated error, +and caused truth to be definitely received as regards Byron,—an abler +pen can easily correct it, and do away with the numberless repetitions +with which we are aware we shall be reproached. We could not do +otherwise, as we wished to multiply proofs. Others, some day, will +achieve what we have been unable to perform.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41] </a></span></p> + +<p>Our work is like the stream which falls from the mountain and is filled +with ooze: its only merit is to swell the river into which it runs. But, +sooner or later, a stronger current will purify it, and give clearness +and brilliancy to it, without taking from it the merit of having +increased the bulk of the waters.</p> + +<p>Such as it is, we dedicate this humble work to the noble souls who +worship truth. They will feel that we have been able to place them in a +more intimate connection with another great mind, and thus we shall have +gained our reward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> He often told and promised his friends at Genoa that he +would alter the passages which are unjust and reprehensible, and that, +before it was finished, "Don Juan" would become a chaste and +irreproachable satire.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> +</p><p> + +"His manner was perhaps the more seductive,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because he ne'er seemed anxious to seduce;</span><br /> +Nothing affected, studied, or constructive<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of coxcombry or conquest: no abuse</span><br /> +Of his attractions marr'd the fair perspective,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To indicate a Cupidon broke loose,</span><br /> +And seem to say, 'Resist us if you can'—<br /> +Which makes a dandy while it spoils a man.<br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">XIII.<br /></span> +</p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"Don Juan was without it;</span><br /> +In fact, his manner was his own alone:<br /> +Sincere he was——<br /> +</p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">XIV.</span> +</p><p> +"By nature soft, his whole address held off<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Suspicion: though not timid, his regard</span><br /> +Was such as rather seem'd to keep aloof,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To shield himself than put you on your guard.</span><br /> +</p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">XV.<br /></span> +</p><p> +"Serene, accomplish'd, cheerful, but not loud,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Insinuating without insinuation;</span><br /> +Observant of the foibles of the crowd,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet ne'er betraying this in conversation;</span><br /> +Proud with the proud, yet courteously proud,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So as to make them feel he knew his station</span><br /> +And theirs:—without a struggle for priority<br /> +He neither brook'd nor claim'd superiority.<br /> +</p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">XVI.<br /></span> +</p><p> +"That is with men: with women he was what<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">They pleased to make or take him for."—<i>Canto</i> xv.</span><br /> +</p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">LIV.<br /></span> +</p><p> +"There was the purest Platonism at bottom<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of all his feelings."—<i>Canto</i> x.</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Ste. Beuve, "Nouveaux Lundis," vol. iii. p. 28.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> When the persecution to which Lord Byron was exposed by his +separation had attained its greatest height, an influential person—not +belonging to the peerage—came to visit him, and told him that, if he +wished to see how far the folly of men went, he had only to give orders +for having it shown that nothing said against him was true, but that +then he must change politics and come over to the Tory party. Lord Byron +replied that he would prefer death and all kinds of tortures to such +meanness. Hereupon the person in question said that he must suffer the +consequences, which would be heavy, since his colleagues were determined +on his ruin, out of party spirit and political hatred. It was at this +time that, going one day to the House, he was insulted by the populace, +and even treated in it like an outlaw. No one spoke to him, nor +approached to give any explanation of such a proceeding, except Lord +Holland, who was always kind to him, and indeed to every one else. +Others—such as the Duke of Sussex, Lord Minto, Lord Lansdowne and Lord +Grey—would fain have acted in a like manner; but they suffered +themselves to be influenced by his enemies, among whom more than one was +animated by personal rancor because the young lord had laughed at them +and shown up their incapacity. +</p><p> +Lord Byron, finding himself received in this way by his colleagues, +pretended not to see it, and after a few moments quitted the House, +never more to set foot within it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Lord Byron's mind, incapable of idleness, was constantly at +work, even despite himself and amid pressing active occupations. During +his stay in the Ionian Islands, Missolonghi, he wrote five cantos of Don +Juan. The scene of the cantos that followed was laid first in England +and then in Greece. The places chosen for the action naturally rendered +these last cantos the most interesting, and, besides, they explained a +host of things quite justifying them. They were taken to England with +Lord Byron's other papers; but there they were probably considered not +sufficiently respectful toward England, on which they formed a sort of +satire too outspoken with regard to living personages, and doubtless it +was deemed an act of patriotism to destroy them. And so the world was +deprived of them. +</p><p> +Lord Byron had also kept a journal since the day of his departure from +Genoa up to the time when illness made the pen drop from his hand. To it +he had consigned his most intimate thoughts; and we may well imagine how +full of interest it must have been, written amid all the emotions +agitating his soul at that time. This journal was found among his papers +by a personage of high standing in Greece, who was the first to inspect +them, and who, seeing his own name and conduct mentioned in no +flattering terms, destroyed them in order to hide from England the +unvarnished truth told of himself. Count Gamba often speaks of this +journal in the letters addressed at this period to his sister. +</p><p> +We leave the reader to make his own comments on these too regrettable +facts.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>LORD BYRON AND M. DE LAMARTINE.</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>To Count de</i> ——.<br /> +<br /></p> +<p style="text-align: right">Paris, 17th June, 1860.<br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Count</span>,—Confiding in your willingness to oblige, I beg to ask a +favor and your advice. I received, a short time ago, a prospectus of a +subscription to be raised for a general addition of the works of M. de +Lamartine. You are aware that when it is a question of showing my +sympathy for M. de Lamartine I would never miss the opportunity of doing +so; but on this occasion I see on the programme the promise of a Life of +Lord Byron. Such an announcement must alarm the friends of that great +man; for they remember too vividly the sixteenth number of the "Cours +Littéraire" to subscribe hastily to a work when they have not more +information than is therein given. You, who forget nothing, must +probably remember the strange judgment of Byron formed by M. de +Lamartine in that article. Identifying the man with the poet, and +associating his great name with that of Heine on account of some rather +hazardous lines in "Don Juan," and forgetting the license allowed to +such poetry—an imitation of the Italian poets Berni, Ariosto, Pulci, +Buratti—M. de Lamartine did not forget a few personal attacks upon +himself, and called Byron the founder of the school for promoting +satanic laughter, while he heaped upon him the most monstrous +accusations. M. de Lamartine ventured to say of Byron things which even +his greatest enemies never dared to utter at that time when in England +it was the custom to revile him. Although the time has not yet come when +Lord Byron's life should be written, since the true sources of +collecting information respecting him are unattainable so long as the +people live to whom his letters were addressed, still it is easy to +perceive that the time has at length arrived when in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43] </a></span> England the desire +to do him justice and fairly to examine his merits is felt by the nation +generally. Moore, Parry, Medwin, etc., have already attempted to make +known the character of the man as distinct from that of the poet. They +no longer sought to find in him a resemblance with Childe Harold, or the +Corsair, or Manfred, or Don Juan, nor to judge of him by the +conversations in which he sought to mystify those with whom he +conversed; but they judged him by his acts and by his correspondence.</p> + +<p>If so happy a reaction, however, is visible in England the same can not +be said of France, where there being no time to read what is published +elsewhere, an error is too soon embraced and ingrafted on the mind of +the public as a consequence of a certain method which dispenses with all +research. Hence the imaginary creation which has been called Byron, and +which has been maintained in France notwithstanding its being wholly +unacceptable as a portrait of the man, and totally different from the +Byron known personally to some happy few who had the pleasure of +beholding in him the handsomest, the most amiable of men, and the +greatest genius whom God has created.</p> + +<p>But M. de Lamartine, who wishes particularly to show the character of +the man, instead of adding to the numerous proofs of courage and +grandeur of mind which he has personally shown to the world—that of +confessing that he has erred in his judgment of Byron—endeavors to +study him only in his works. But in doing this, and even though a moral +object may be found in each of Byron's works, it strikes us that M. de +Lamartine would have done better to pursue this line in the analysis of +the intellectual part of the man, and not the moral side.</p> + +<p>"You err" (wrote Byron to Moore on the occasion of the latter saying +that such a poem as the "Vision of Judgment" could not have been written +in a desponding mood): "a man's poetry is a distinct faculty or soul, +and has no more to do with the every-day individual than the inspiration +of the Pythoness when removed from her tripod." To which Moore observes: +"My remark has been hasty and inconsiderate, and Lord Byron's is the +view borne out by all experience. Almost all the tragic and gloomy +writers have been, in social<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44] </a></span> life, mirthful persons. The author of the +'Night Thoughts' was a fellow of infinite jest; and of the pathetic +Otway, Pope says, 'He! why, he would laugh all the day long; he would do +nothing but laugh!'"</p> + +<p>It is known that many licentious writers have led very regular and +chaste lives; that many who have sung their success with women have not +dared to declare their love to one woman; that all Sterne's sentiment +was perfectly ideal, and proceeded always from the head and never from +the heart; that Seneca's morality was no barrier to his practicing +usury; and that, according to Plutarch, Demosthenes was a very +questionable moralist in practice. Why, then, necessarily conclude that +a moralist is a moral man, or a sarcastic satirist a deceitful one, or +the man who describes scenes of blood and carnage a monster of cruelty? +Does not Montaigne say of authors that they must be judged by their +merits, and not by their morals, nor by that show of works which they +exhibit to the world? Why, then, does M. Lamartine appreciate Byron +according to his satirical works, when all those who knew him assert +that his real character was very different to his literary one? He did +not personify, but create his heroes; which are two very different +things.</p> + +<p>Like Salvator Rosa, who, the meekest of men in private life, could only +find a vent to his talent by painting scenes of brigandage and horror, +so did Byron's genius require to go down into the darkest recesses of +the passions which generate remorse, crime, and heroism, to find that +spark which fired his genius. But it must be owned, that even his great +qualities were causes of the false judgment of the world upon him. Thus, +in describing Childe Harold, he no doubt wished to paint a side of +nature which had not yet been seen. At the scenes of despair, at the +scenes of doubt which assail him, the poet assists rather as the +historian than as the actor. And the same holds good for other poems, +where he describes those peculiar diseases of the mind which great +geniuses alone can comprehend, though they need not have experienced +them. But it was the very life which he infused into his heroes that +made it appear as if they could not personify any one but himself. And +as to their faults, because he was wont to give them his qualities, it +was argued, that since the latter were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45] </a></span> observable to be common to the +author and the creations of his fancy, the faults of these must likewise +be his. If only the faults, why not also the crimes? Thus it came that, +caring little for their want of argument, Byron's enemies erected +themselves into avengers of too much talent bestowed upon one single +man.</p> + +<p>Byron might have taken up his own defense, but did not care to do so, or +did it carelessly in some letters written to intimate friends. To Moore +he wrote:—"Like all imaginative men, I, of course, embody myself with +the character while I draw it; but not a moment after the pen is from +the paper." He always, however, begged that he might be judged by his +acts; and a short time before he died at Missolonghi, after recommending +Colonel Stanhope to desist from then pressing the necessity of giving +liberty to the press, and from recommending the works of Bentham to a +people who could not even read, Byron replied to the colonel's rather +hasty remarks, "Judge me by my acts." This request he had often +repeated, as his life was not one of those which fear the light of day. +All in vain. His enemies were not satisfied with this means of putting +an end to their calumnies.</p> + +<p>Where does M. de Lamartine find the truth which he proposes to tell the +world about Byron? Not surely among the writers whose biographies of +Byron were either works of revenge or of speculation, and sometimes +both. Not in the conversations which Byron had with several people, and +on the credulity of whom he loved to speculate. It can not, therefore, +be in the biographies of men who have written erroneously, and have not +understood their subject; but in Moore, in Parry, in Count Gamba's +works, and, may be, in a few others. I am, however, far from saying, +that Moore has acted toward Lord Byron with all that friendly feeling +which Byron recommended to him on asking him to write the Life of +Sheridan, "without offending the living or insulting the dead." Quite +the contrary. I take it that Moore has wholly disregarded his duties as +a true friend, by publishing essentially private letters, by introducing +into his books certain anecdotes which he might, if even they were true, +have advantageously left out; and in failing, from fear of wounding +living susceptibilities, to assert with energy that which he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46] </a></span> knew to be +the real case with Byron. More than any one, Moore experienced the fatal +influence which injures independence in aristocratic England. An +Irishman by birth, and a commoner, Moore was flattered to find himself +elevated by his talents to a position in aristocratic circles which he +owed to his talents, but which he was loath to resign. The English +aristocracy then formed a kind of clique whose wish it was to govern +England on the condition that its secret of governing should not be +revealed, and was furious with Byron, who was one of them, for revealing +their weaknesses and upbraiding their pretensions. Moore wished to live +among the statesmen and noblemen whose despotic views and bad policy +Byron had openly condemned, and among those lovely islanders in whose +number there might be found more Adelinas than Auroras, and to whom +Byron had preferred foreign beauties. Moore, in short, wished to live +with the literary men whom Byron had ridiculed in his satires, and among +the high clergy, then as intolerant as they were hypocritical, and who, +as Byron said, forgot Christ alone in their Christianity. Moore, whose +necessity it had become to live among these open revilers and enemies of +Byron, after allowing the memoirs of Byron to be burnt, because in them +some of the above-named personages were unmasked, this Moore was weak +enough not to proclaim energetically that Byron's character was as great +as his genius, but to do so only timidly. By way of obtaining pardon +even for this mite of justice to the friend who was gone, Moore actually +condescended to associate himself with those who pleaded extenuating +circumstances for Byron's temper, like Walter Scott and other poets. But +truth comes out, nevertheless, in Moore; and in the perusal of Byron's +truthful and simple letters we find him there displayed in all his +admirable and unique worth as an intellectual and a moral man. We find +him adorned with all the virtues which Heaven gave him at his birth; his +real goodness, which neither injustice nor misfortune could alter; his +generosity, which not only made him disbelieve in ingratitude, but +actually incited him to render good for evil and obliged him to own that +"he could not keep his resentments;" his gratitude for the little that +is done for him; his sincerity; his openness of character; his greatness +and disinterestedness. "His very failings were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47] </a></span> those of a sincere, a +generous, and a noble mind," says a biographer who knew him well. His +contempt for base actions; his love of equity; his passion for truth, +which was carried almost to a hatred of cant and hypocrisy, were the +immediate causes of his want of fairness in his opinion of himself and +of his self-accusation of things most contrary to his nature.</p> + +<p>So singular a trait in his character was by no means the result of +eccentricity, but the result of an exceptional assembly of rare +qualities which met for the first time in one man, and which, shining in +the midst of a most corrupt society, constituted almost more an anomaly +which became a real defect, hurtful, however, to himself only. His ideal +of the beautiful magnified weaknesses into crimes, and physical failings +into deformities. Thus it is that with the saints the slightest +transgression of the laws appears at once in the light of mortal sin. +St. Augustin calls the greediness of his youth a crime. The result of +all this was that his very virtues mystified the world and caused it to +believe that the faults which he attributed to himself were nothing in +comparison of those which he really had.</p> + +<p>Byron, however, was indignant at being so unfairly treated. He treated +with contempt the men who calumniated him, and as if they were idiots. +He can safely, therefore, be blamed for not urging enough his own +defense. This, to my mind, constitutes his capital fault, unless one +considers defects of character those changes of humor which rapidly +passed from gayety to melancholy, or his pretended irritability, which +was merely a slight disposition to be impatient. These were all the +result of his poetical nature, added to the effects of early education +and to those of certain family circumstances. It would be too hard and +too unfair to attribute these slight weaknesses of character proper to +great genius to a bad nature or to misanthropy.</p> + +<p>Had Lord Byron not been impatient he must have been satisfied with his +own condition and indifferent to that of others. In other words, he must +have been an egotist, which he was not. He was gay by nature, and +repeatedly showed it; but he had been sorely wounded by the injustice of +men, and his marriage with Miss Milbank had undermined his peace<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48] </a></span> and +happiness. How, then, could he escape the occasional pangs of grief, and +not betray outwardly the pain which devoured him inwardly. In such +moments it was a relief to him to heave a sigh, or take up a pen to vent +his grief in rhyme. His misanthropy was quite foreign to his nature. All +those who knew him can bear testimony to the falseness of the +accusation.</p> + +<p>Moore, who knew him so well, and who always speaks the truth when no +longer under the influences which at times overpower him, after speaking +of the charm of Byron's manner when he saw him for the first time, ends +by saying: "It may be asserted that never did there exist before, and it +is most probable never will exist again, a combination of such vast +mental power and surpassing genius, with so many others of those +advantages and attractions by which the world is in general dazzled and +captivated."</p> + +<p>When, therefore, M. de Lamartine seeks the truth in Moore, Parry, and +some other biographers respecting Byron, he will find that this +eminently beautiful form was in harmony with the splendid intellect and +moral qualities of the man. M. de Lamartine will see that Byron was a +good and devoted son, a tender father and brother, a faithful friend, +and indulgent master, beloved by all who ever knew him, and who was +never accused, even by his enemies, of having tried to seduce an +innocent young girl, or having disturbed the peace of conjugal bliss. He +will behold his charity, which was universal and unbounded; a pride +which never stooped to be subservient of those in power; a firm +political faith; a contempt of public dignities, so far as they +reflected glory upon himself; and such a spirit of humility that he was +ever ready to blame himself and follow the advice of those whom he +deemed to be animated by no hostile spirit against himself.</p> + +<p>When M. de Lamartine sees all this, not merely written down as in these +pages, but actually proved by facts and irrefutable testimonies, his +loyal soul must revolt and wish to do justice to himself by rejecting +his former opinions. He will understand that if he himself has been +called a drinker of blood by the party whom he styles bigoted and +composed of old men, Byron, too, may have been calumniated. Looking, +then, at the great poet in his proper light, that is, in the pleni<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49] </a></span>tude +of his rare qualities, and considering him under each of the +circumstances of his life, M. de Lamartine will own that he had +misunderstood that most admirable of characters, and grant that the +"satanic laughter" of which he spoke was, on the contrary, the smile +which was so beautiful that it might have lighted up by its magic soft +rays the dark regions of Satan. His doubts being cleared away, M. de +Lamartine will end by saying that Byron was an "angel, not a demon."</p> + +<p>Byron's misfortune was to have been born in the England of those days. +Do you remember his beautiful lines in the "Due Foscari?"—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"He might have lived,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So formed for gentle privacy of life,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So loving, so beloved; the native of</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Another land, and who so bless'd and blessing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As my poor Foscari? Nothing was wanting</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Unto his happiness and mine save not</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To be Venetian."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>In writing these lines Byron must have thought of his own fate. He was +scarcely British by origin, and very little so by his turn of mind, or +by his tastes or by the nature of his genius. "My ancestors are not +Saxon, they are Norman," he said; "and my blood is all meridian."</p> + +<p>If, instead of being born in England then, he had come before the world +when his star would have been hailed with the same love and regard that +was granted to Dante in Italy, to Chateaubriand and Lamartine in France, +or to Goethe in Germany, who would ever have blamed him for the slight +errors which fell from his pen in "Don Juan,"—a poem written hastily +and with carelessness, but of which it can be said, as Montesquieu said +of the prettiest women, "their part has more gravity and importance than +is generally thought." If the sense of the ridiculous is ever stronger +among people whose appreciation of the beautiful is keenest, who more +than Byron could have possessed it to a higher degree? Is it therefore +to be marvelled at that, in order to make the truth he revealed +accessible to all, and such whose minds had rusted in egotism and +routine, he should have given to them a new and sarcastic form?</p> + +<p>Had he been born anywhere but in the England of those days, he never +would have been accused of mocking virtue b<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50] </a></span>ecause he claimed for it +reality of character, and not that superficial form which he saw existed +then in society. He believed it right to scorn the appearances of virtue +put on only for the purpose of reaping its advantages. No one respected +more than he did all that was really holy, virtuous, and respectable; +but who could blame him for wishing to denounce hypocrisy? As for his +supposed skepticism, and his expressions of despair, they may be classed +with the misgivings of Job, of Pascal, of Lamartine, of Chateaubriand, +and of other great minds, for whom the unknown world is a source of +constant anxiety of thought, and whose cry of despair is rather a +supplication to the Almighty that He would reveal himself more to their +eyes. It must be borne in mind that the skepticism which some lines in +his poems denounce is one of which the desponding nature calls more for +our sympathy than our denunciations, since "we discover in the midst of +these doubts," says Moore, "an innate piety which might have become +tepid but never quite cold." His own words should be remembered when he +writes, as a note to the two first cantos of "Childe Harold," that the +spirit of the stanzas reflects grief and illness, more than an obstinate +and mocking skepticism; and so they do. They do not embody any +conclusions, but are only the expression of a passionate appeal to the +Almighty to come to the rescue and proclaim the victory of faith.</p> + +<p>Could any thing but a very ordinary event be seen in his separation from +a wife who was in no way suited to him, and whose worth can be esteemed +by the remark which she addressed to Byron some three weeks after her +marriage: "When, my lord, do you intend to give up your habit of +versifying?" And, alas! could he possibly be happy, born as he was in a +country where party prejudices ran so high? where his first satire had +created for him so many enemies? where some of his poems had roused +political anger against him, and where his truth, his honesty, could not +patiently bear with the hypocrisy of those who surrounded him, and +where, in fact, he had had the misfortune to marry Miss Milbank?</p> + +<p>The great minds whom God designs to be the apostles of truth on earth, +make use for that purpose of the most efficacious means at their +disposal. The universal genius of Byron allowed of his making use of +every means to arrive at his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51] </a></span> end. He was able to be at once pathetic, +comic, tragical, satirical, vehement, scoffing, bitter, and pleasant. +This universality of talents, directed against Englishmen, was injurious +to his peace of mind.</p> + +<p>When Byron went to Italy his heart was broken down with real and not +imaginary sorrows. These were not of that kind which create perfection, +but were the result of an unheard-of persecution on account of a family +difference in which he was much more the victim than the culprit.</p> + +<p>He required to live in a milder climate, and a softer atmosphere to +breathe in. He found both at Venice; and under their influence his mind +took a new turn, which had remained undeveloped while in his own clouded +country.</p> + +<p>In the study of Italian literature he met with the Bernesque poetry, +which is so lightly and elegantly sarcastic. He made the acquaintance of +Buratti, the clever and charming satirist. He began, himself, to +perceive the baseness of men, and found in an æsthetical mockery of +human failings the most copious of the poetical currents of his mind. +The more his friends and his enemies told him of the calumnies which +were uttered against him, so much the more did Byron's contempt swell +into disdain; and to this circumstance did "Beppo" and "Don Juan" <i>owe</i> +their appearance.</p> + +<p>The social condition of his country and the prevalent cant opened to him +a field for reflection at Venice, where customs were so different and +manners so tolerant. Seeing new horizons before him, he was more than +ever disgusted at the judgments of those who calumniated him, and ended +by believing it to be best to laugh at their silly efforts to ruin him. +He then wrote "Beppo" and afterward "Don Juan."</p> + +<p>He was mistaken, however, in believing that in England this new style of +poetry would be liked. His jests and sarcasms were not understood by the +greater portion of those against whom they were levelled. The nature of +the Bernese poetry being essentially French, England could not, with its +serious tendencies, like a production in which the moral purpose was +artistically veiled. From that day forward a severance took place +between Byron and his countrymen. What had enchanted the French +displeased them, and Byron in vain translated the "Morgante" of Pulci, +to show them what a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52] </a></span> priest could say in that style of poetry in a +Catholic country. In vain did he write to his friends that "Don Juan" +will be known by-and-by for what it is intended,—a satire on the abuses +of the present state of society, and not a eulogy of vice. It may be now +and then voluptuous: I can't help it. Ariosto is worse; Smollett ten +times worse; Fielding no better. No girl will ever be seduced by reading +"Don Juan," etc.</p> + +<p>But he was blamed just because he jested. To his ultramontane tone they +would have preferred him to blaspheme in coarse Saxon.</p> + +<p>One of the best of Byron's biographers asserts that he was a French mind +lost on the borders of the Thames. Lord Byron had every kind of mind, +and that is why he was equally French. But in addressing his countrymen, +as such, he heaped a mountain of abuse upon his head.</p> + +<p>With the most moral portion of the English public a violent satire would +have had better chance of success. With the higher classes the work was +read with avidity and pleasure. It was not owned, because there were too +many reasons for condemning it; but it found its way under many a +pillow, to prove to the country how virtue and patriotism were +endangered by this production.</p> + +<p>Murray made himself the echo of all this wrath, and Lord Byron, not able +at times to contain his, wrote to him much to the following purpose—</p> + +<p>"I intend to write my best work in Italian, and I am working at it. As +for the opinion of the English, which you mention, let them know how +much it is worth before they come and insult me by their condescension.</p> + +<p>"I have not written for their pleasure; if they find theirs in the +perusal of my works, it is because they wish it. I have never flattered +their opinion or their pride, nor shall I ever do so. I have no +intention either of writing books for women or to '<i>dilettar le femine e +la plese</i>.' I have written merely from impulse and from passion, and not +for their sweet voices. I know what their applause is worth; few writers +have had more. They made of me a kind of popular idol without my ever +wishing, and kicked me down from the pedestal upon which their caprice +had raised me. But the idol did not break<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53] </a></span> in the fall, and now they +would raise it again, but they shall not." As soon as they saw that +Byron was perfectly happy in Italy, and that their abuse did him but +very little harm, they gave full vent to their rage.</p> + +<p>They had shown how little they knew him when they identified him with +his heroes; they found that they knew even less of him when he appeared +to them in the reality of his character. Calumny followed upon calumny. +Unable to find him at fault, they interpreted his words themselves, and +gave them a different meaning. Every thing was figurative of some +wickedness, and to the simplest expressions some vile intention was +attributed.</p> + +<p>They depreciated his works, in which are to be found such admirable and +varied types of women characters, that they even surpass in beauty those +of Shakspeare (Angiolina, Myrrha, Anna): they said that Faliero wanted +interest, that Sardanapalus was a voluptuary; that Satan in "Cain" did +not speak as a theologian (how could he?), that there were irreverent +tendencies in his sacred dramas—and finally that his declaration—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"My altars are the mountains and the ocean,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Earth, air, stars,—all that springs from the great Whole,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who hath produced, and will receive the soul,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>was hazardous, and almost that of an atheist. Atheist! he! who +considered atheists fools.</p> + +<p>On leaving Venice for Ravenna,<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> where he had spent a few months, only +by way of distraction in the midst of his so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54] </a></span>rrows and serious +occupations, he was accused of dissolute conduct; and the serious +attachment which he had wished to avoid, but which had mastered his +whole heart, and induced him to live an isolated life with the person he +loved in a town of Romagna, far from all that could flatter his vanity +and from all intercourse with his countrymen, was brought against him to +show that he lived the life of an Epicurean, and brought misery into the +heart of families.</p> + +<p>All this, no doubt, might have again called for his contempt, but on his +way from Ravenna to Pisa he wrote the outpourings of his mind in a poem, +the last lines of which are:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Oh Fame! if I e'er took delight in thy praises,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The thought that I was not unworthy to love her.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>There</i> chiefly I sought thee, <i>there</i> only I found thee;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>His heart was wounded by the persecutions to which those he loved were +subjected. His thoughts were for his daughter, who was growing up in the +midst of her father's enemies, and for his beloved sister who was +praying for him. He contemplated in the future the time when he could +show the moral and heroic power of his soul. He looked forward to the +great deeds by which he was going to astonish them, and perhaps call for +their admiration, instead of his writings, which had never reaped for +him any thing but pain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55] </a></span></p> + +<p>"If I live," he wrote to Moore, "you will see that I shall do something +better than rhyming."</p> + +<p>Truth however, when told by such men as Byron, and however ungraciously +received, must guide in the end the steps of those who walk in its wake.</p> + +<p>This has been the case with Byron's poetry. Its influence over the minds +of Englishmen has been very salutary and great, and is one of the +principal causes which brought on a reform of the rooted prejudices and +opinions of the public in England, by the necessity under which it +placed them of looking into the defects of the law and of the +constitution, to which they had hitherto so crouchingly submitted. Since +then the feeling of good-will toward other nations has materially +increased in that great country.</p> + +<p>Others have improved the way which Byron opened up for reform, and +thanks to him England at his death began to lose her excessive +susceptibility. She became accustomed to listen to the truth, and those +who now proclaim it are not required to be exiled, or to suffer as Byron +did up to the time of his death. His sufferings, no doubt, paved his way +to everlasting glory, but his heroic death left him at the mercy of the +enemies who survived him.</p> + +<p>If ever a premature death was unfortunate, Byron's was; not only for +him, because he was on the point of giving to the world the proof of +those virtues which had been denied him, but also for humanity, by the +loss of various treasures which will probably never be found again.</p> + +<p>The epoch, however, of faint words and unbecoming silence has gone by +even in England. Already one of the greatest men of England has claimed +a monument in Westminster Abbey, which had been denied to his memory by +the bigoted rancor of the man who was dean at the time of Byron's death, +denied to that poet whom another great English statesman has called "a +great writer, but a still greater man."</p> + +<p>There remains a still more imperious duty to be fulfilled by those who +have been able to appreciate his great qualities. That duty is to +proclaim them and to prevent the further spread of falsehood and error +as to his real character.</p> + +<p>This is a very long letter, my dear count, but you know how long all +letters must be which are intended to refute<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56] </a></span> opinions and to rectify +judgments. M. de Lamartine has the excellent habit of listening to your +advice, and that is why I have had at heart to let you know the truth +about Byron. The present work will adduce the proofs of the +appreciations contained in this letter. I know that you do not require +them, but also that the public does.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">Pray accept, etc.——.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Galt says, "It was in the course of the passage to the +island of Zea, where he was put on shore, that one of the most emphatic +incidents of his life occurred; an incident which throws a remarkable +gleam into the springs and intricacies of his character, more perhaps +than any thing which has yet been mentioned. One day, as he was walking +the quarter-deck, he lifted an attaghan (it might be one of the +midshipmen's weapons), and unsheathing it, said, contemplating the +blade, '<i>I should like to know how a person feels after committing +murder</i>.' By those who have inquiringly noticed the extraordinary cast +of his metaphysical associations, this dagger scene must be regarded as +both impressive and solemn; the wish to know how a man felt after +committing murder does not imply any desire to perpetrate the crime. The +feeling might be appreciated by experiencing any actual degree of guilt; +for it is not the deed,—the sentiment which follows it makes the +horror. But it is doing injustice to suppose the expression of such a +wish dictated by desire. Lord Byron has been heard to express, in the +eccentricity of conversation, wishes for a more intense knowledge of +remorse than murder itself could give. There is, however, a wide and +wild difference between the curiosity that prompts the wish to know the +exactitude of any feeling or idea, and the direful passions that +instigate to guilty gratifications."—Galt, 152. +</p><p> +His curiosity was psychological and philosophical, that of a great +artist wishing to explore the heart of man in its darkest depths. +</p><p> +On the eve of his departure from Rome he assisted at the execution of +three assassins, remaining to the end, although this spectacle threw him +into a perfect fever, causing such thirst and trembling that he could +hardly hold up his opera-glass. +</p><p> +At Venice he preferred Madame Benzoni's conversation to that of Madame +Albrizzi, because she was more thoroughly Venetian, and as such more +fitted for the study he wished to make of national manners. He used to +say that <i>every thing in the world ought to be seen once</i>, and it is to +this idea that we must specially attribute some of the oddities so +exaggerated and so much criticised during his short stay at Venice, for +in reality he had none of these tastes. +</p><p> +Parry says, "Lord Byron had an insatiable curiosity, he was forever +making questions and researches. He wished me to relate to him all the +most trifling incidents of my life in America, Virginia, and +Canada."—Parry, 180.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>PORTRAIT OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>The following letter was addressed to M. de Lamartine, who had asked the +author of these pages to give him the "portrait physique" of Lord Byron.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Monsieur de Lamartine</span>,—</p> + +<p>Being on the point of departure, I nevertheless wish to send you a few +explanations which must serve as my apology. You have asked me to draw +the portrait of Lord Byron, and I have promised you that I would do so. +I now see that my promise was presumptuous. Every time I have endeavored +to trace it, I have had to put down my pen, discouraged as I was by the +fact of my always discovering too many obstacles between my +reminiscences and the possibility of expressing them. My attempts +appeared to me at times to be a profanation by the smallness of their +character; at others, they bore the mark of an extreme enthusiasm, +which, however, seemed to me very weak in its results and very +ridiculous in its want of power. Images which are preserved in thought +to a degree which may almost be considered supernatural, are susceptible +of too much change during the short transit of the mind to the pen.</p> + +<p>The Almighty has created beings of such harmonious and ideal beauty that +they defy description or analysis. Such a one was Lord Byron. His +wonderful beauty of expression has never been rendered either by the +brush of the painter or the sculptor's chisel. It summed up in one +magnificent type the highest expression of every possible kind of +beauty. If his genius and his great heart could have chosen a human form +by which they could have been well represented, they could not have +chosen another! Genius shone in his very looks. All the effects and +emotions of a great soul were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58] </a></span> therein reflected as well as those of an +eminently good and generous heart, and indeed contrasts were visible +which are scarcely ever united in one and the same person. His eyes +seized and betrayed the sentiments which animated him, with a rapidity +and transparency such as called forth from Sir Walter Scott the remark, +that the fine head of his young rival "was like unto a beautiful +alabaster vase lightened up by an interior lamp." To see him, was to +understand thoroughly how really false were the calumnies spread about +as to his character. The mass, by their obstinacy in identifying him +with the imaginary types of his poems, and in judging him by a few +eccentricities of early youth, as well as by various bold thoughts and +expressions, had represented to themselves a factitious Byron, totally +at variance with the real man. Calumnies, which unfortunately he passed +over in disdainful silence, have circulated as acknowledged facts. Time +has destroyed many, but it would not be correct to say that they have +all entirely been destroyed. Lord Byron was silent, because he depended +upon time to silence his calumniators. All those who saw him must have +experienced the charm which surrounded him as a kind of sympathetic +atmosphere, gaining all hearts to him. What can be said to those who +never saw him? Tell them to look at the pictures of him which were +painted by Saunders, by Phillips, by Holmes, or by Westall? All these, +although the works of great artists, are full of faults. Saunders's +picture represents him with thick lips, whereas his lips were +harmoniously perfect: Holmes almost gives him a large instead of his +well-proportioned and elegant head! In Phillips's picture the expression +is one of haughtiness and affected dignity, never once visible to those +who ever saw him.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<p>"These portraits," says Dallas, "will certainly present to the stranger +and to posterity that which it is possible for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59] </a></span> brush to reproduce +so far as the features are concerned, but the charm of speech and the +grace of movement must be left to the imagination of those who have had +no opportunity to observe them. No brush can paint these."</p> + +<p>The picture of Byron by Westall is superior to the others, but does not +come up to the original. As for the copies and engravings which have +been taken from these pictures, and circulated, they are all +exaggerated, and deserve the appellation of caricatures.</p> + +<p>Can his portrait be found in the descriptions given by his biographers? +But biographers seek far more to amuse and astonish, in order that their +writings may be read, than to adhere to the simple truth.</p> + +<p>It can not be denied, however, that in the portraits which several, such +as Moore, Dallas, Sir Walter Scott, Disraeli in London, the Countess +Albrizzi at Venice, Beyle (Stendhal) at Milan, Lady Blessington and Mrs. +Shelley in Italy, have drawn of Lord Byron there is much truth, +accompanied by certain qualifications which it is well to explain. I +shall therefore give in their own words (preferring them to my own +impressions) the unanimous testimony of those who saw him, be they +friends or beings for whom he was indifferent. Here are Moore's +words:—"Of his face, the beauty may be pronounced to have been of the +highest order, as combining at once regularity of features with the most +varied and interesting expression.</p> + +<p>"His eyes, though of a light gray, were capable of all extremes of +expression, from the most joyous hilarity to the deepest sadness, from +the very sunshine of benevolence to the most concentrated scorn or rage. +But it was in the mouth and chin that the great beauty as well as +expression of his fine countenance lay.</p> + +<p>"His head was remarkably small, so much so as to be rather out of +proportion with his face. The forehead, though a little too narrow, was +high, and appeared more so from his having his hair (to preserve it, as +he said) shaved over the temples. Still the glossy dark-brown curls, +clustering over his head, gave the finish to its beauty. When to this is +added that his nose, though handsomely was rather thickly shaped, that +his teeth were white and regular, and his complexion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60] </a></span> colorless, as good +an idea perhaps as it is in the power of mere words to convey may be +conceived of his features.</p> + +<p>"In height he was, as he himself has informed us, five feet eight inches +and a half, and to the length of his limbs he attributed his being such +a good swimmer. His hands were very white, and, according to his own +notions of the size of hands as indicating birth, aristocratically +small."</p> + +<p>"What I chiefly remember to have remarked," adds Moore, "when I was +first introduced to him, was the gentleness of his voice and manners, +the nobleness of his air, his beauty, and his marked kindness to myself. +Being in mourning for his mother, the color as well of his dress, as of +his glossy, curling and picturesque hair, gave more effect to the pure, +spiritual paleness of his features, in the expression of which, when he +spoke, there was a perpetual play of lively thought, though melancholy +was their habitual character when in repose."</p> + +<p>When Moore saw him again at Venice, some eight years after the first +impressions which Byron's beauty had produced upon him in London (1812), +he noted a change in the character of that beauty.</p> + +<p>"He had grown fatter both in person and face, and the latter had most +suffered by the change—having lost by the enlargement of the features +some of that refined and spiritualized look that had in other times +distinguished it.... He was still, however, eminently handsome, and in +exchange for whatever his features might have lost of their high +romantic character, they had become more fitted for the expression of +that arch, waggish wisdom, that epicurean play of humor, which he had +shown to be equally inherent in his various and prodigally gifted +nature; while by the somewhat increased roundness of the contours the +resemblance of his finely-formed mouth and chin to those of the +Belvedere Apollo had become still more striking."<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p> + +<p>Here are now the words of Lady B——, who saw him a few weeks only +before his last departure for Greece. This lady had conceived a totally +different idea of Byron. According to her, Byron would have appeared +affected, <i>triste</i>, in accordance with certain portraits and certain +types in his poems.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61] </a></span> But, if in order not to cause any jealousy among +the living, she dared not reveal all her admiration, she at least +suffered it to appear from time to time.</p> + +<p>"There are moments," she says, "when Lord Byron's face is shadowed over +with the pale cast of thought, and then his head might serve as a model +for a sculptor or a painter to represent the ideal of poesy. His head is +particularly well formed: his forehead is high, and powerfully +indicative of his intellect: his eyes are full of expression: his nose +is beautiful in profile, though a little thickly shaped. His eyebrows +are perfectly drawn, but his mouth is perfection. Many pictures have +been painted of him, but the excessive beauty of his lips escaped every +painter and sculptor. In their ceaseless play they represented every +motion, whether pale with anger, curled in disdain, smiling in triumph, +or dimpled with archness and love."</p> + +<p>This portrait can not be suspected of partiality; for, whether justly or +not, she did not enjoy Lord Byron's sympathy, and knew it; she had also +to forgive him various little circumstances which had wounded her "amour +propre," and was obliged to measure her praise in order not to create +any jealousy with certain people who surrounded him and who had some +pretension to beauty.</p> + +<p>Here is the portrait of him which another lady (the Comtesse Albrizzi of +Venice) has drawn, notwithstanding her wounded pride at the refusal of +Lord Byron to allow her to write a portrait of him and to continue her +visits to him at Venice:—</p> + +<p>"What serenity on his forehead! What beautiful auburn, silken, +brilliant, and naturally curled hair! What variety of expression in his +sky-blue eyes! His teeth were like pearls, his cheeks had the delicate +tint of a pale rose; his neck, which was always bare, was of the purest +white. His hands were real works of art. His whole frame was faultless, +and many found rather a particular grace of manner than a fault in the +slight undulation of his person on entering a room. This bending of the +body was, however, so slight that the cause of it was hardly ever +inquired into."</p> + +<p>As I have mentioned the deformity of his foot, even before quoting other +testimonies to his beauty, I shall tarry a while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62] </a></span> and speak of this +defect, the only one in so pre-eminently favored a being. What was this +defect, since all becomes illustrious in an illustrious man? Was it +visible? Was it true that Lord Byron felt this imperfection so keenly? +Here is the truth.</p> + +<p>No defect existed in the formation of his limbs; his slight infirmity +was nothing but the result of weakness of one of his ankles.</p> + +<p>His habit of ever being on horseback had brought on the emaciation of +his legs, as evinced by the post-mortem examination; besides which, the +best proof of this has been lately given in an English newspaper much to +the following effect:—</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wildman (the widow of the colonel who had bought Newstead) has +lately given to the Naturalist Society of Nottingham several objects +which had belonged to Lord Byron, and among others his boot and shoe +trees. These trees are about nine inches long, narrow, and generally of +a symmetrical form. They were accompanied by the following statement of +Mr. Swift, bootmaker, who worked for his lordship from 1805 to 1807. +Swift is still alive, and continues to reside at Southwell. His +testimony as to the genuineness of the trees, and to the nature of Lord +Byron's deformity, of which so many contradictory assertions have +circulated, is as follows:—</p> + +<p>"'William Swift, bootmaker at Southwell, Nottinghamshire, having had the +honor of working for Lord Byron when residing at Southwell from 1805 to +1807, asserts that these were the trees upon which his lordship's boots +and shoes were made, and that the last pair delivered was on the 10th of +May, 1807. He, moreover, affirms that his lordship had not a club foot, +as has been said, but that both his feet were equally well formed, one, +however, being an inch and a half shorter than the other. The defect was +not in the foot but in the ankle, which, being weak, caused the foot to +turn out too much. To remedy this his lordship wore a very light and +thin boot, which was tightly laced just under the sole, and, when a boy +he was made to wear a piece of iron with a joint at the ankle, which +passed behind the leg and was tied behind the shoe. The calf of this leg +was weaker than the other, and it was the left leg.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"> +(Signed) <span class="smcap">William Swift</span>.'"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63] </a></span></p> + +<p>This, then, is the extent of the defect of which so much has been said, +and which has been called a deformity. As to its being visible, all +those who knew him assert that it was so little evident that it was even +impossible to discover in which of the legs or feet the fault existed. +To the testimonies already quoted I must add another:—</p> + +<p>"His defect," says Mr. Galt, "was scarcely visible. He had a way of +walking which made it appear almost imperceptible, and indeed entirely +so. I spent several days on board a ship with him without discovering +this defect; and, in truth, so little perceptible was it that a doubt +always existed in my mind whether it might not be the effect of a +temporary accident rather than a natural defect."</p> + +<p>All those who knew him being therefore agreed in this opinion, that of +people who were not acquainted with him is of no value. But if, in the +material appreciation of a defect, they have not been able to err, +several have erred in their moral appreciation of the fact by pretending +that Lord Byron, for imaginary reasons, was exceedingly sensible of this +defect. This excessive sensibility was a pure invention on the part of +his biographers. When he did experience it (which was never but to a +very moderate extent), it was only because, physically speaking, he +suffered from it. Under the sole of the weak foot he at times +experienced a painful sensation, especially after long walks.</p> + +<p>"Once, at Genoa," says Mme. G., "he walked down the hill of Albaro to +the seaside with me, by a rugged and rough path. When we had reached the +shore he was very well and lively. But it was an exceedingly hot day, +and the return home fatigued him greatly. When home I told him I thought +he looked ill. 'Yes,' said he,' I suffer greatly from my foot; it can +hardly be conceived how much I suffer at times from that pain,' and he +continued to speak to me about this defect with great simplicity and +indifference."</p> + +<p>He used often even to laugh at it, so superior was he to that weakness. +"Beware," said Count Gamba to him on one occasion while riding with him, +and on reaching some dangerous spot, "beware of falling and breaking +your neck." "I should decidedly not like it," said Byron; "but if this +leg of which I don't make much use were to break, it would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64] </a></span> the same +to me, and perhaps then I should be able to procure myself a more useful +one."</p> + +<p>The sensitiveness, therefore, which he was said to experience, and which +would have been childish in him, was in reality only the occasional +experience of a physical pain which did not, however, affect his +strength, nor the grace of his movements, in all those physical +exercises to which he was so much attached. It in no wise altered his +good looks, and, as a proof of this, I shall again bring testimonies, +giving first that of M.N., who was at Constantinople when Byron arrived +there for the first time, and who thus describes him in a review which +he wrote of him after Byron's death:—</p> + +<p>"A stranger then entered the bazar. He wore a scarlet cloak, richly +embroidered with gold in the style of an English aid-de-camp's dress +uniform. He was attended by a janissary attached to the English Embassy +and by a cicerone: he appeared to be about twenty-two. His features were +of so exquisite a delicacy, that one might almost have given him a +feminine appearance, but for the manly expression of his fine blue eyes. +On entering the inner shop he took off his hat, and showed a head of +curly auburn hair, which improved in no small degree the uncommon beauty +of his face. The impression his whole appearance made upon my mind, was +such that it has ever remained most deeply engraven on it; and although +fifteen years have since gone by, the lapse of time has not in the least +impaired the freshness of the recollection." Then, speaking of his +manner, he goes on to say: "There was so irresistible an attraction in +his manner, that only those who have been so fortunate as to be admitted +to his intimacy can have felt its power."</p> + +<p>Moore once asked Lady Holland whether she believed that Lady Byron had +ever really loved Lord Byron. "Could it be otherwise?" replied Lady +Holland. "Was it possible not to love so lovable a creature? I see him +there now, surrounded as it were by that great light: oh, how handsome +he was!"</p> + +<p>One of the most difficult things to define was the color of his eyes. It +was a mixture of blue, gray, and violet, and these various colors were +each uppermost according to the thought which occupied his mind or his +heart. "Tell me, dear," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65] </a></span> the little Eliza to her sister, whose +enthusiasm for Byron she shared, "tell me what is the color of his +eyes?" "I can not say; I believe them to be dark," answered Miss Eliza, +"but all I know is that they have quite a supernatural splendor." And +one day, having looked at them with greater attention in order to +ascertain their color, she said, "They are the finest eyes in the world, +but not dark, as I had at first believed. Their hue is that of the eyes +of Mary Stuart, and his long, black eye-lashes make them appear dark. +Never did I before, nor ever again shall I, see such eyes! As for his +hands, they are the most beautiful hands, for a man, I ever saw. His +voice is a sweet melody."<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> + +<p>Sir Walter Scott was enchanted when he could dilate on the extraordinary +beauty of Byron. One day, at Mr. Home Drummond's, he exclaimed:—"As for +poets, I have seen the best that this country has produced, and although +Burns had the finest eyes that can be imagined, I never thought that any +man except Byron could give an artist the exact idea of a poet. His +portraits do not do him the least justice; the varnish is there, but the +ray of sunshine is wanting to light them up. The beauty of Byron," he +added "is one which makes one dream."</p> + +<p>Colonel Wildman, his colleague at Harrow, and his friend, was always +wont to say, "Lord Byron is the only man among all those I have seen, +who may be called, without restriction, a really handsome man."</p> + +<p>Disraeli, in his novel entitled "Venetia," speaks thus of the beauty of +Hubert (who is Lord Byron) when Venetia finds his portrait:—</p> + +<p>"That being of supernatural beauty is her father. Young as he was, +command and genius, the pride of noble passions, all the glory of a +creative mind, seemed stamped upon his brow. With all his marvellous +beauty he seemed a being born for greatness.... Its reality exceeded the +wildest dreams of her romance, her brightest visions of grace and +loveliness and genius seemed personified in this form. He was a man in +the very spring of sunny youth and of radiant beauty. He was above the +middle height, yet with a form that displayed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66] </a></span> exquisite grace.... It +was a countenance of singular loveliness and power. The lips and the +moulding of the chin resembled the eager and impassioned tenderness of +the shape of Antinous; but instead of the effeminate sullenness of the +eye and the narrow smoothness of the forehead, shone an expression of +profound and piercing thought. On each side of the clear and open brow +descended, even to the shoulders, the clustering locks of golden hair; +while the eyes large and yet deep, beamed with a spiritual energy, and +shone like two wells of crystalline water that reflect the all-beholding +heavens."</p> + +<p>M. Beyle (Stendhal) writes to Mr. Swanton Belloc:—"It was in the autumn +of the year 1816 that I met Lord Byron at the theatre of the Scala, at +Milan, in the box of the Bremen Minister. I was struck with Lord Byron's +eyes at the time when he was listening to a sestetto in Mayer's opera of +"Elena." I never in my life saw any thing more beautiful or more +expressive. Even now, when I think of the expression which a great +painter should give to genius, I always have before me that magnificent +head. I had a moment of enthusiasm." And further, he adds that one day +he saw him listening to Monti while the latter was singing his first +couplet in the "Mascheroniana." "I shall never forget," said he, "the +divine expression of his look; it was the serene look of genius and +power."</p> + +<p>I might multiply these testimonies of people who have seen him, and fill +many pages; their particular character is their uniform resemblance. +This proves the soundness of the ground on which their truth is based. I +will add one more testimony to the others, that of Mrs. Shelley, which +is even nearer the truth, and condenses all the others:—"Lord Byron," +said this distinguished woman, "was the first genius of his age and the +handsomest of men."</p> + +<p>In all these portraits there is much truth, but they are not +sufficiently complete to give those who never saw him any but a faint +idea of his smile, or of his mouth, which seemed to be not suited to +material purposes, and to be purely intellectual and divine; of his +eyes, which changed from one color to another according to the various +emotions of his soul, but the habitual expression of which was that of +an infinite and intense softness; of his sublime and noble brow; of his +melo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67] </a></span>dious voice, which attracted and captivated; and of that kind of +supernatural light which seemed to surround him like a halo.</p> + +<p>This inability on the part of artists and biographers to render exactly +Byron's features and looks, is not to be wondered at, for although +perfectly regular, his features derived their principal beauty from the +life which his soul instilled into them. The emotions of his heart, the +changes of his thoughts, appeared so variously upon his countenance, and +gave the latter so changeable a cast, that it sufficed not for the +artist who had to portray him, to gaze at and study him, as one +generally does less gifted or elevated organizations. The reality was +more likely to be well interpreted when it stood a prey to the various +emotions of the soul; in his leisure hours, in the full enjoyment of +life and love, he was satisfied with the knowledge that he was young, +handsome, beloved, and admired. Then it was that his beauty became, as +it were, radiant and brilliant like a ray of sunshine.</p> + +<p>The time to see him was when, under the influence of genius, his soul +was tormented with the desire of pouring out the numberless ideas and +thoughts which flooded his mind: at such moments one scarcely dared +approach him, awed, as it were, by the feeling of one's own nothingness +in comparison with his greatness. Again, the time to see him was when, +coming down from the high regions to which a moment before he had +soared, he became once more the simple child adorned with goodness and +every grace; taking an interest in all things, as if he were really a +child. It was impossible then to refrain from the contemplation of this +placid beauty, which, without taking away in the least from the +admiration which it inspired, drew one toward him, and made him more +accessible to one, and more familiar by lessening a little the distance +which separated one from him. But, above all, he should have been seen +during the last days of his stay in Italy, when his soul had to sustain +the most cruel blows; when heroism got the better of his affections, of +his worldly interests, and even of his love of ease and tranquillity; +when his health, already shaken, appeared to fail him each day more and +more, to the loss of his intellectual powers. Had one seen him then as +we saw him, it would scarcely have been possible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68] </a></span> to paint him as he +looked. Does not genius require genius to be its interpreter? +Thorwaldsen alone has, in his marble bust of him, been able to blend the +regular beauty of his features with the sublime expression of his +countenance. Had the reader seen him, he would have exclaimed with Sir +Walter Scott, "that no picture is like him."</p> + +<p>Not only would he have observed in his handsome face the denial of all +the absurd statements which had been made about him, but he would have +noticed a soul greater even than the mind, and superior to the acts +which he performed on this earth; he would have read in unmistakable +characters, not only what he was,—a good man,—but the promise of a +moral and intellectual perfection ever increasing. If this progressive +march toward perfection was at one time arrested by the trials of his +life, and by the consequences of undeserved sorrow, it was well proved +by his whole conduct toward the end of his life, and in the last poems +which he wrote. His poems from year to year assumed a more perfect +beauty, and increased constantly, not only in the splendor of their +conception, but also in the force of their expressions, and their moral +tendency, visible especially in his dramas. In them will be found types +surpassing in purity, in delicacy, in grandeur, in heroism, without ever +being untrue to nature, all that ever was conceived by the best poets of +England. Shakspeare, in all his master creations, has not conceived a +more noble soul than that of Angiolina, or a more tender one than +Marina's or even one more heroic than Myrrha's. As his genius became +developed, his soul became purified and more perfect. But the Almighty, +who does not allow perfection to be of this world, did not permit him to +remain on earth, when once he had reached that point. He allowed him, +however,—and this perhaps as a compensation for all the injuries which +he had suffered,—to die in the prime of life a death worthy of him; the +death of a virtuous man, of a hero, of a philosopher.</p> + +<p>Excuse this long letter, for if I have ventured to speak to you at such +length of the moral, and—may I say the word?—"physical" beauty of the +illustrious Englishman, it is because one genius can appreciate another, +and that, in speaking of so great a man as Lord Byron, there is no fear +of tiring the listeners.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Among the bad portraits of Lord Byron spread over the +world, there is one that surpasses all others in ugliness, which is +often put up for sale, and which a mercantile spirit wishes to pass off +for a good likeness; it was done by an American, Mr. West,—an excellent +man, but a very bad painter. This portrait, which America requested to +have taken, and which Lord Byron consented to sit for, was begun at +Montenero, near Leghorn; but Lord Byron, being obliged to leave +Montenero suddenly, could only give Mr. West two or three sittings. It +was then finished from memory, and far from being at all like Lord +Byron, is a frightful caricature, which his family or friends ought to +destroy.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Moore. vol. ii. p. 248.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Miss E. Smith.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>FRENCH PORTRAIT.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I see that the greater part of the men of my time endeavor to +blemish the glory of the generous and fine actions of olden days by +giving to them some vile interpretation, or by finding some vain +cause or occasion which produced them—very clever, indeed! I shall +use a similar license, and take the same trouble to endeavor to +raise these great names."—<span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>, chap. "Glory."</p></div> + + +<p>The portrait of Lord Byron, in a moral point of view, is still to be +drawn. Many causes have conspired to make the task difficult, and the +portrait unlike. Physically speaking, on account of his matchless +beauty—mentally, owing to his genius—and morally, owing to the rare +qualities of his soul, Lord Byron was certainly a phenomenon. The world +agrees in this opinion; but is not yet agreed upon the nature and moral +value of the phenomenon. But as all phenomena have, besides a primary +and extraordinary cause, some secondary and accidental causes, which it +is necessary to examine in order that they may be understood; so, to +explain Byron's nature, we must not neglect to observe the causes which +have contributed chiefly to the formation of his individuality.</p> + +<p>His biographers have rather considered the results than the causes.</p> + +<p>Even Moore, the best among them, if not, indeed, the only one who can +claim the title of biographer, grants that the nature of Lord Byron and +its operations were inexplicable, but does not give himself the trouble +to understand them.</p> + +<p>Here are his own words:—"So various indeed, and contradictory were his +attributes, both moral and intellectual, that he may be pronounced to +have been not one, but many: nor would it be any great exaggeration of +the truth to say, that out of the mere partition of the properties of +his single mind, a plurality of characters, all different and all +vigorous, might have been furnished. It was this multiform aspect +exhibited by him that led the world, during his short, wondrous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70] </a></span> career, +to compare him with the medley host of personages, almost all differing +from each other, which he playfully enumerates in one of his journals.</p> + +<p>"The object of so many contradictory comparisons must probably be like +something different from them all; but what <i>that</i> is, is more than I +know, or any body else."</p> + +<p>But, while merely explaining the extraordinary richness of this nature +by the analysis of its results, by his changeable character, by the +frankness which ever made his heart speak that which it felt, by his +excessive sensitiveness, which made him the slave of momentary +impressions, by his almost childlike delight and astonishment at things, +Moore does not arrive at the true causes of the phenomenon. He +registers, it is true, certain effects which become causes when they +draw upon the head of Lord Byron certain false judgments, and open the +door to every calumny.</p> + +<p>Without adopting the system of the influence of races on mankind—which, +if pushed to its extreme consequences, must lead to the disastrous and +deplorable doctrine of fatalism, and would make of man a mere +machine—it is, however, impossible to deny that races and their +amalgamation do exercise a great influence over our species.</p> + +<p>It is to this very influence of race, which was so evident in Lord +Byron, that we attribute, in a measure, the exceptional nature of the +great English poet.</p> + +<p>As the reader knows, Lord Byron was descended, by his father, from the +noble race of the Birons of France. His ancestors accompanied William +the Conqueror to England, aided him in the conquest of that country, and +distinguished themselves in the various fields of battle which +ultimately led to the total subjugation of the island.</p> + +<p>In his family, the sympathies of the original race always remained +strong.</p> + +<p>His father, a youthful and brilliant officer, was never happy except in +France. He was very intimate with the Maréchal de Biron, who looked upon +him as a connection. He even settled in Paris with his first wife, the +Marchioness of Carmarthen. Soon after his second marriage, he brought +his wife over to France, and it was in France that she conceived the +future poet. When obliged to return to England to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71] </a></span> confined, she was +so far advanced in pregnancy that she could not reach London in time, +but gave birth to Lord Byron at Dover. It was in France that Byron's +father died at thirty-five years of age. Through his mother—a Scotch +lady connected with the royal house of Stuart—he had Scotch blood in +his veins.</p> + +<p>The powerful influence exercised by the Norman Conquest, in the +modification of all the old habits of Great Britain, and in making the +English that which they now are, has descended as an heirloom to some +old aristocratic families of the kingdom, where it discovers itself at +different times in different individuals. Nowhere, perhaps, did this +influence show itself more clearly than in the person of Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>His duplicate or triplicate origin was already visible in the cast of +his features. Without any analogy to the type of beauty belonging to the +men of his country (a beauty seldom found apart from a kind of cold +reserve), Lord Byron's beauty appeared to unite the energy of the +western with the splendor and the mildness of the southern climes.</p> + +<p>The influence of this mixture of races was equally visible in his moral +and intellectual character.</p> + +<p>He belonged to the Gallic race (modified by the Latin and Celtic +elements) by his vivacity and mobility of character, as well as by his +wit and his keen appreciation of the ridiculous, by those smiles and +sarcasms which hide or discover a profound philosophy, by his perception +of humor without malice, by all those amiable qualities which in the +daily intercourse of life made of him a being of such irresistible +attraction. He belonged to that race likewise by his great +sensitiveness, by his expansive good-nature, by his politeness, by his +tractableness, by his universal character which rendered every species +of success easy to him; by his great generosity, by his love of glory, +by his passion for honor, his intuitive perception of great deeds, by a +courage which might have appeared rash, had it not been heroic, and +which, in presence of the greatest perils and even of death, ever +preserved for him that serenity of mind which allowed him to laugh, even +at such times; by his energy, and also by his numerous mental and bodily +requirements; and by his defects,—which were, a slight tendency to +indiscretion, a want of prudence injurious to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72] </a></span> interests, +impatience, and a kind of intermittent and apparent fickleness.</p> + +<p>He belonged to the western race by his vast intellect, by his practical +common sense, which formed the basis of his intellect, and which never +allowed him to divorce sublime conceptions from sound sense and good +reason,—two qualities, in fact, which so governed his imagination as to +make people say he had not any; by the depth of his feelings, the extent +of his learning, his passion for independence, his contempt of death, +his thirst for the infinite, and by that kind of melancholy which seemed +to follow him into the midst of every pleasure. All these various +elements, which belonged separately to individuals in France, in +England, and in various countries, being united in Lord Byron, produced +a kind of anomaly which startled systematic critics, and even honest +biographers. The apparent contradiction of all these qualities caused +his critics to lose their psychological compass in their estimate of his +charming nature, and justice, together with truth, suffered by the +result. Thus a portrait, drawn over and over again, still remains to be +painted.</p> + +<p>The most imaginary portrait, however, of Lord Byron, and certainly the +least like him, is that which has general currency in France: not only +has that portrait not been drawn from nature, not only is it a +caricature, but it is also a calumny. Those who drew it took romance for +history. They charged or exaggerated incidents in his life and +peculiarities of his character; thus the harmony of the <i>tout ensemble</i> +was lost. Ugliness and eccentricity, which amuse, succeeded beauty and +truth, which are sometimes wearisome.</p> + +<p>Those who knew and loved Lord Byron even more as a man than a genius +(and, after all, these are those who knew him personally) suffer by this +injustice done to him, and feel the absurdity of making so privileged a +being act so whimsical a part, and one so contrary to his nature as well +as to the reality of his life.</p> + +<p>If this imaginary portrait, however, were more like those which his best +biographers have drawn of him, justice to his memory would become so +difficult a task as to be almost impossible. Happily it is not so; and +those who would conscientiously consult Moore, Parry, and Gamba, must +at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73] </a></span> least give up the idea that this admirable genius was the eccentric +and unamiable being he has been represented. To reach this point would, +perhaps, require a greater respect for truth.</p> + +<p>Even in France there are many superior persons who, struck by the force +of facts, have at times endeavored to seize certain features which might +lead to the discovery of truth, and have attempted to show that Lord +Byron's noble character and beauty of soul, as well as his genius, did +honor to humanity. But their efforts have been vain in presence of the +absurd and contradictory creation of fancy which has been styled "Lord +Byron," and which with few modifications, continues to be called so to +this day.</p> + +<p>How has this occurred? what gave rise to it? ignorance, or carelessness? +Both causes in France, added to revenge in England, which found its +expression in cant,—a species of scourge which is becoming quite the +fashion.</p> + +<p>The first of these French biographers (I mean of those who have written +upon and wished to characterize Lord Byron), without knowing the man +they were writing about, set to work with a ready-made Byron. This, no +doubt, they found to be an easier method to follow, and one of which the +results must prove at least original. But where had they found, and from +whose hands did they receive this ready-made poet, whose features they +reproduced and offered to the world? Probably from a few lines, not +without merit, of Lamartine, who by the aid of his rich imagination had +identified Byron with the types which he had conceived for his Oriental +poems, mixing up the whole with a heap of calumnies which had just been +circulated about him.</p> + +<p>Perhaps also from certain critics who believed in the statements of +various calumniators, and who themselves had probably not had any better +authority than a few articles in badly informed papers, or in newspapers +politically opposed to Lord Byron. We all know, by what we see daily in +France, how little we can trust the moderation of these, and the justice +they render to their adversaries; what must it not have been in England +at that time, when passions ran so high?—Perhaps also from the jealousy +of dethroned rivals!—the echoes, perhaps, of the revenge of a woman +equally distinguished by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74] </a></span> her rank and by her talent, but whose passion +approached the boundaries of madness, or of the implacable hatred of a +few fanatics who, substituting in the most shameless manner their +worldly and sectarian interests for the Gospel, denounced him as an +atheist because he himself had proclaimed them hypocrites. Finally, +perhaps, from a host of absurd rumors, equally odious and vague, caused +by his separation from his wife, and by the articles published in +newspapers printed at Venice and at Milan.</p> + +<p>For Byron's noble, simple, and sublime person was therefore substituted +an imaginary being, formed out of these prejudices and these +contradictory elements, too outrageous even to be believed, and by dint +of sheer malice.</p> + +<p>Thus enveloped in a dense atmosphere, which became an obstacle to the +disclosure of truth as the clouds are to the rays of the sun, his image +only appeared in fantastical outlines borrowed from "Conrad the +Corsair," or "Childe Harold," or "Lara," or "Manfred," or indeed "Don +Juan." Analogies were sought which do not exist, and to the poet were +attributed the sentiments, and even the acts, of these imaginary beings, +albeit without any of the great qualities which constituted his great +and noble soul, and which he has not imparted to any of his poetical +creations.</p> + +<p>Upon him were heaped every possible and most contradictory +accusation—of skepticism and pantheism, of deism and atheism, of +superstition and enthusiasm, of irony and passion, of sensuality and +ideality, of generosity and avarice. These went to form his portrait, +presenting every contrast and every antagonism, which God Himself, the +Father and Creator of all things, but also the Author of all harmony, +could not have assembled in one and the same being unless He made of him +a species of new Frankenstein, incapable of treading the ordinary paths +of physical, moral, or intellectual, nay, of the most ordinary +existence.</p> + +<p>After thus producing such an eccentric character,—the more +extraordinary that they entirely forgot to consult the true and most +simple history of his life, where if some of the ordinary excusable +faults of youth are to be found, "some remarkable qualities, however, +must be noticed,"—these wonderful biographers exclaim, astonished as it +were at their own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75] </a></span> conclusions:—"This is indeed a most singular, +extraordinary, and not-to-be-defined being!"</p> + +<p>I should think so: it is their own work, not the noble, amiable, and +sublime mind, the work of God, and which he always exhibited in himself,</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Per far di colassà fede fra noi."—<span class="smcap">Petrarch</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Happily, if to paint the portrait of Byron has become impossible, now +that</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Poca terra è rimasto il suo belviso,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>it is easy to describe his moral character. His invisible form is, it is +true, above, but a conscientious examination of his whole life will give +us an idea of it. He knew this so well himself, that a few days before +his death he begged, as a favor, of his friend Lord Harrington, then +Colonel Stanhope, at Missolonghi, to judge him only by his deeds. "Judge +me by my deeds."</p> + +<p>All bombastic expressions, all systematic views should be discarded, and +attention paid only to facts, in order to discover the fine intellectual +figure of Lord Byron so completely lost sight of by his detractors.</p> + +<p>Since the imaginary creations of his pen in moments of exalted passion +should not be taken as the real manifestation of his character, the +latter is to be found in his own deeds, and in the testimony of those +who knew him personally. Herein shall we seek truth by which we are to +deal with the fanciful statements which have too long been received as +facts. Let us consider the opinions of those who by their authority have +a right to portray him, while we study the various causes which have +contributed to lead the public into errors which time has nearly +consecrated, but which shall be corrected in France, and indeed in every +country where passion and animosity have no interest in maintaining +them.</p> + +<p>"Public opinion," says M. Cousin, "has its errors, but these can not be +of long duration." They lasted a long time, however, as regards Lord +Byron; but, thanks to God, they will not be eternal. He depended upon +this himself, for he once at Ravenna wrote these prophetic words in a +memorandum:—</p> + +<p>"Never mind the wicked, who have ever persecuted me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76] </a></span> with the help of +Lady Byron: triumphant justice will be done to me when the hand which +writes this is as cold as the hearts that have wounded me."</p> + +<p>In England, Lord Byron triumphed over many jealous enemies whom his +first satire earned for him, no less than the rapid and wonderful rise +of his genius, which, instead of appearing by degrees, burst forth at +once, as it were, and towering over many established reputations. The +prestige which he acquired was such that every obstacle was surmounted, +and in one day he saw himself raised against his will, and without his +having ever sought the honor, to the highest pinnacle of fashion and +literary fame.</p> + +<p>In a country where success is all, his enemies, and those who were +jealous of his name, were obliged to fall back; but they did not give up +their weapons nor their spite. One curious element was introduced in the +national veneration for the poet. It was agreed that never had such an +accumulation of various gifts been heaped upon the head of one man: he +was to be revered and honored, but on one condition. He was to be a +mysterious being whose genius should not transgress the boundaries of +the East; who was to allow himself to be identified with the imaginary +beings of his own fancy, however disagreeable, nay, even criminal they +might be in reality. True, his personal conduct (at twenty-four) was to +be above all human weakness; if not, he was to be treated, as certain +superstitious votaries treat their idols if they do not obtain at once +the miracles they ask for. His secret enemies perfidiously made use of +these stupid demands of the public.</p> + +<p>Insinuating and giving out at times one calumny after another, they +always kept behind the scenes, resolved, however, to ruin him in the +public esteem on the first opportunity, which they knew they would not +have long to wait for from one so open, so passionate, so generous as +Lord Byron. The greatest misfortune of his life—his marriage—gave them +their opportunity. Then they came forth, threw down the mask which they +had hitherto worn, to put on one more hideous still; overturned the +statue from the pedestal upon which the public had raised it, and tried +to mutilate its remains. But as the stuff of which it was made was a +marble which could not be broken, they only defiled, insulted, and +outlawed it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77] </a></span></p> + +<p>Then it was that France made acquaintance with Lord Byron. She saw him +first mysteriously enveloped in the romantic semblance of a Corsair, of +a skeptical Harold, of a young lord who had despised and wounded his +mother-country, from which he had almost been obliged to exile himself, +in consequence of a series of eccentricities, faults, and—who +knows?—of crimes, perhaps. Thus caught in a perfidious net, Lord Byron +left England for Switzerland.</p> + +<p>He found Shelley, whom he only knew by name, at Geneva, where he +stopped. Shelley was another victim of English fanatical and intolerant +opinions; but he, it may be allowed at least, had given cause for this +by some reprehensible writings, in which he had declared himself an +atheist. No allowance had been made for his youth, for he was only +seventeen when he wrote "Queen Mab," and he found himself expelled not +only from the university but also from his home, which was to him a real +cause of sorrow and misfortune.</p> + +<p>Between these two great minds there existed a wide gulf—that which +exists between pantheism and spiritualism; but they had one great point +of resemblance, their mutual passionate love for justice and humanity, +their hatred of cant and hypocrisy, in fact, all the elevated sentiments +of the moral and social man. With Lord Byron these noble dispositions of +the heart and mind were naturally the consequence of his tastes and +opinions, which were essentially spiritualistic. With Shelley, though in +contradiction with his metaphysics, they were notwithstanding in harmony +with the beautiful sentiments of his soul, which, when he was only +twenty-three years of age, had already experienced the unkindness of +man. Their respective souls, wounded and hurt by the perfidiousness and +injustice of the world, felt themselves attracted to each other. A real +friendship sprang up between them. They saw one another often, and it +was in the conversations which they held together at this time that the +seed was sown which shortly was to produce the works of genius which +were to see the day at the foot of the Alps and under the blue sky of +Italy.</p> + +<p>Although Lord Byron's heart was mortally wounded, still no feeling of +hatred could find its way into it. The sorrow which he felt, the painful +knowledge which he had of cruel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78] </a></span> and perfidious wrongs done to him, the +pain of finding out the timidity of character of his friends, and the +recollection of the many ungrateful people of whom he was the victim, +all and each of these sentiments found their echo in the "Prisoner of +Chillon," in the third canto of "Childe Harold," in "Manfred," in the +pathetic stanzas addressed to his sister, in the admirable and sublime +monody on the death of Sheridan, and in the "Dream," which according to +Moore, he must have written while shedding many bitter tears. According +to the same authority, the latter poem is the most melancholy and +pathetic history that ever came forth from human pen.</p> + +<p>I shall not mention here the persecution to which Byron was subjected +then, nor the ever-manly, dignified, but heartrending words which it +drew forth from the noble poet in the midst of his retired, studious, +regular, and virtuous existence. I shall speak of it elsewhere; but I +will say now that so unexampled, atrocious, and foolish was this +persecution, that his enemies must have feared the awakening of the +public conscience and the effects of a reaction, which might make them +lose all the fruits of their victory, if they tarried in their efforts +to prevent it. The most cruel among them was the poet laureate, in whose +eyes Byron could have had but one defect—that of being superior to him. +True, Byron had mentioned him in the famous satire which was the work of +his youth; but he had most generously expiated his crime by confessing +it, in buying up the fifth edition so as to annihilate it, and by +declaring that he would have willingly suppressed even the memory of it. +This noble action had gained for him the forgiveness and even the +friendship of the most generous among them; but the revengeful poet +laureate was not, as Byron said, "of those who forgive."</p> + +<p>This man arrived at Geneva, and at once set about his hateful work of +revenge. This was all the easier on account of the spirit of cant which +reigned in that country, and owing to the intimacy which he found to be +existing between Byron and Shelley, for whom likewise he had conceived a +malignant hatred. It must be said, however, that the laureate having to +account for, among other works, his "Wat Tyler" (which had been +pronounced to be an immoral book, and had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79] </a></span> prohibited on that +account), rather trusted to his hypocrisy to regain for him the former +credit he enjoyed.</p> + +<p>The intimacy between Byron and the spurned atheist Shelley presented a +capital opportunity for this man to take his revenge. He circulated in +Geneva all the false reports which had been current in London, and +described Byron under the worst colors. Switzerland was at that time +overrun by the English, whom the recently-signed Peace had attracted to +the Continent. The laureate took the lead of those who tried to make the +good but bigoted people of Geneva believe in all the tittle-tattle +against Byron which was passed about in London, and actually attempted +to make a scandal of his very presence in their town. When he passed in +the streets they stopped to stare at him insolently, putting up their +glasses to their eyes. They followed him in his rides; they reported +that he was seducing all the girls in the "Rue Basse," and, in fact, +although his life was perfectly virtuous, one would have said that his +presence was a contagion. Having found in a travellers' register the +name of Shelley, accompanied by the qualification of "atheist!" which +Byron had amiably struck out with his pen, the laureate caught at this +and gave out that the two friends had declared themselves to be +atheists. He attributed their friendship to infamous motives; he spoke +of incest and of other abominations, so odious, that Byron's friends +deemed it prudent not to speak to him a word of all this at the time. He +only learned it at Venice later.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80] </a></span></p> + +<p>Loaded with this very creditable amount of falsehoods, most of which +were believed in Geneva, the laureate returned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81] </a></span> to London to spread them +in England, so as to prevent the effects of the beautiful and touching +poems which were poured forth from the great and wounded soul of Byron, +and which might have restored him to the esteem of all the honest and +just minds of his country.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Lady C. L—— having failed to discover any one who would +accept the reward she offered to the person who would take Byron's life, +had recourse to another means of injuring him—to a kind of moral +assassination—which she effected by the publication of her revengeful +sentiments in the three volumes entitled "Glenarvon." Such a work might +justify a biographer in passing it over with contempt without even +mentioning it; but as enemies of Lord Byron have made capital out of +this book,—as it found credence even with some superior minds, such as +Goethe's—as the intimacy which prefaced this revenge caused great +sensation all over England, and was a source of continual vexation and +pain for Byron—it must not be passed over without comment, as Moore did +to spare the susceptibility of living personages.</p> + +<p>Lady C. L—— (afterward Lady M——) belonged to the high aristocracy of +England. Young, clever, and fashionable, but a little eccentric, she had +been married some years when she fell so desperately in love with Lord +Byron that she braved every thing for him. It was not Byron who made the +first advances, for his powers of seduction were only the attractions +with which nature had endowed him. His person, his voice, his look,—all +in him was irresistible. In presenting himself anywhere, he could very +well say with Shakspeare, in "Othello,"—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"This only is the witchcraft I have used."<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82] </a></span></p> + +<p>Lord Byron, who was then only twenty-three years of age, and not +married, was flattered, and more than pleased, by this preference shown +to him. Although Lady C. L——'s beauty was not particularly attractive +to him, and although her character was exactly opposite to the ideal +which he had formed of what woman's character should be, yet she +contrived to interest him, to captivate him by the power of her love, +and in a very short time to persuade him that he loved her.</p> + +<p>This sort of love could not last. It was destined to end in a +catastrophe. Lady L——'s jealousy was ridiculous. Dressed sometimes as +a page, sometimes in another costume, she was wont to follow him by +means of these disguises. She quarrelled and played the heroine, etc. +Byron, who disliked quarrels of all kinds (and perhaps even the lady +herself), besides being intimate with all her family, was too much the +sufferer by this conduct not to endeavor to bring her back to a sense of +reason and of her duty. He was indulging in the hope that he had +succeeded in these endeavors when, at a ball given by Lady Heathcote, +Lady L——, after vain efforts to attract Byron's attention, went up to +him and asked him whether she might waltz. Byron replied, half-absently, +that he saw no reason why she should not; upon which her pride and her +passion became so excited that she seized hold of a knife, and feigned +to commit suicide. The ball was at once at an end, and all London was +soon filled with accounts of this incident. Lady L—— had scarcely +recovered from the slight wound she had inflicted on herself, when she +wrote to a young peer, and made him all kinds of extravagant promises, +if he would consent to call out Byron and kill him. This, however, did +not prevent her calling again upon Lord Byron, not, however, says +Medwin, with the intention of blowing his brains out; as he was not at +home, she wrote on one of his books</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +"Remember me."<br /> +</p> + +<p>On returning home, Byron read what she had written, and, filled with +disgust and indignation, he wrote the famous lines</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +"Remember thee! Ay, doubt it not,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>and sent her back several of her letters sealed up. "Glenarvon" was her +revenge. She painted Byron in fiendish colors,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83] </a></span> giving herself all the +qualities he possessed, so as to appear an angel, and to him all the +passions of the "Giaour," of the "Corsair," and of "Childe Harold," so +that he might be taken for a demon.</p> + +<p>In this novel, the result of revenge, truth asserts its rights, +notwithstanding all the contradictions of which the book is full. Thus +Lady L—— can not help depicting Byron under some of his real +characteristics. She was asked, for instance, what she thought of him, +when she met him for the first time after hearing of his great +reputation, and she answers, while gazing at the soft loveliness of his +smile,—</p> + +<p>"What do I think? I think that never did the hand of God imprint upon a +human form so lovely, so glorious an expression."</p> + +<p>And further she adds:—</p> + +<p>"Never did the Sculptor's hand, in the sublimest product of his talent, +imagine a form and a face so exquisite, so full of animation or so +varied in expression. Can one see him without being moved? Oh! is there +in the nature of woman the possibility of listening to him, without +cherishing every word he utters? and having listened to him once, is it +possible for any human heart ever to forget those accents which awaken +every sentiment and calm every fear?"</p> + +<p>Again:—</p> + +<p>"Oh better far to have died than to see or listen to Glenarvon. When he +smiled, his smile was like the light of heaven; his voice was more +soothing from its softness than the softest music. In his manner there +was such a charm, that it would have been vain to affect even to be +offended by its sweetness."</p> + +<p>But while she was obliged to obey the voice of passion and of truth, she +took on the other hand as a motto to her novel that of the "Corsair," +which even applied to the "Corsair" is not altogether just, for he was +gifted with more than "one virtue:—"</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +"He left a Corsair's name to other times,<br /> +Link'd with one virtue and a thousand crimes."<br /> +</p> + +<p>It is, however, fair to add, that this revenge became the punishment of +the heroine; she never again found any rest, struggled against a +troubled mind, and never succeeded in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84] </a></span> forgetting her love. It is even +said that, diseased in mind and body, she was one day walking along one +of the alleys of her beautiful place, on the road to Newstead Abbey, +when she saw a funeral procession coming up the road in the direction of +Newstead. Having inquired whose funeral it was, and being told it was +that of the great poet, whose mortal remains were being conveyed to +their last resting-place, she fainted, and died a few days afterward. +His name was the last word she uttered, and this she did with love and +despair. In London, and wherever the authoress was known, the book had +no success, but the case was different abroad and in the provinces.</p> + +<p>Attracted as he always was toward all that is good, great, and sincere, +Byron was wont to break the monotony of his retired life in the villa +Diodati by frequent visits to Madame de Staël at her country-seat, +"Coppet." She was the first who mentioned "Glenarvon" to him, and when +Murray wrote to him on the subject, Byron simply replied,—</p> + +<p>"Of Glenarvon, Madame de Staël told me (ten days ago at Coppet) +marvellous and grievous things; but I have seen nothing of it but the +motto, which promises amiably 'for us and for our tragedy' ... 'a name +to all succeeding,' etc. The generous moment selected for the +publication is probably its kindest accompaniment, and, truth to say, +the time <i>was</i> well chosen."<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p> + +<p>"I have not even a guess at its contents," said he, and he really +attached no importance to its publication. But a few days later he had a +proof of the bad effect which its appearance had produced, for all this +venom against him had so poisoned the mind of a poor old woman of +sixty-three, an authoress, that on Lord Byron entering Madame de Staël's +drawing-room one afternoon, she fainted, or feigned to do so. Poor soul! +a writer of novels herself, and probably most partial to such reading, +she had, no doubt, from the perusal of "Glenarvon" gleaned the idea that +she had before her eyes that hideous monster of seduction and +perpetrator of crimes who was therein depicted!</p> + +<p>At last Lord Byron read this too famous novel, and wrote to Moore as +follows on the subject:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Madame de Staël lent me 'Glenarvon' last autumn. It seems to me that if +the author had written the truth, and nothing but the truth, and the +whole truth, the novel might not only have been more romantic but more +amusing. As for the likeness, it can not be good, I did not sit long +enough for it."</p> + +<p>From Venice Byron wrote as follows to Murray, in consequence of a series +of articles which appeared in Germany, where a serious view had been +taken of the novel of "Glenarvon:"—</p> + +<p>"An Italian translation of 'Glenarvon' was lately printed at Venice. The +censor (Sgr. Petrolini) refused to sanction the publication till he had +seen me on the subject. I told him that I did not recognize the +slightest relation between that book and myself; but that, whatever +opinions might be held on that subject, I would never prevent or oppose +the publication of any book in any language, on my own private account, +and desired him (against his inclination) to permit the poor translator +to publish his labors. It is going forward in consequence. You may say +this, with my compliments, to the author."<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p> + +<p>Madame de Staël had a great affection for Lord Byron, but his detractors +had found their way into her house.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> Among these was a distinguished +lawyer, who had never been injured by any speech or word of Lord Byron, +but who, setting him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86] </a></span>self up as an amateur enemy of the poet, had, under +an anonymous designation, been one of his bitterest detractors in the +"Edinburgh Review," on the occasion of the publication of his early +poems. This same lawyer endeavored to gain Madame de Staël over to his +opinion of Byron's merit, probably on account of the very knowledge that +he had of the harm he had done him; hatred, like nobility, has its +obligations. But Madame de Staël, who, on reading "Farewell," was wont +to say that she wished almost she had been as unfortunate as Lady Byron, +was too elevated in mind and too noble in character to listen quietly to +the abuse of Byron in which his enemies indulged. She, however, tried to +induce Lord Byron to become reconciled to his wife, on the ground that +one should never struggle against the current of public opinion. Madame +de Staël actually succeeded in obtaining his permission to endeavor to +effect this reconciliation; but the lawyer before mentioned used every +argument to prevent her pursuing this project of mediation.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron's biographers have told how Lady Byron received this +proposal; which, after the way in which he had been treated, appears to +have been, on the part of Byron, an act of almost superhuman generosity. +Such an offer should have moved any being gifted with a heart and a +soul. But I will not here speak of her refusal and of its consequences; +all I wish to state is, that the calumnies put forward against him being +too absurd for Byron to condescend to notice, assumed a degree of +consistency which deceived the public, and even made dupes of superior +men, who in their turn contributed to make dupes of others. At this +time, then, when the war and the continental blockade were at an end, +when each and every one came pouring on to the Continent, did the star +of Byron begin to shine on the European horizon; but, instead of +appearing as a sublime and bountiful star, it appeared surrounded by +dark and ominous clouds.</p> + +<p>Lamartine, who was then travelling in Switzerland, was able to find in +this sad state of things materials for his fine poem "Meditation," and +for doubts whether Byron was "an angel, or a demon," according to the +manner in which he was viewed, be it as a poet or as a man; and, as if +all this were not enough, a host of bad writings were attributed to his +pen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87] </a></span> which brought forth the following expressions in a letter to +Murray, his publisher:—</p> + +<p>"I had hoped that some other lie would have replaced and succeeded to +the thousand and one falsehoods amassed during the winter. I can forgive +all that is said of or against me, but not what I am made to say or sing +under my own name. I have quite enough to answer for my own writings. It +would be too much even for Job to bear what he has not said. I believe +that the Arabian patriarch, when he wished his enemies had written a +book, did not go so far as to be willing to sign his name on the first +page."</p> + +<p>But the public mind was so disposed to look at Byron in the light of a +demon, as traced by Lamartine, that when some young scattered-brain +youth published out of vanity, or perhaps for speculative motives, +another monstrous invention, in the hope of passing it off as a work of +Byron, he actually succeeded for some time in his object without being +discovered.</p> + +<p>"Strange destiny both of books and their authors!" exclaims the writer +of the "Essai sur Lord Byron," published in 1823,—"an evidently +apocryphal production, which was at once seen not to be genuine by all +persons of taste, notwithstanding the forgery of the title, has +contributed as much to make Byron known in France as have his best +poems. A certain P—— had impudence enough to attribute indirectly to +the noble lord himself the absurd and disgusting tale of the 'Vampire,' +which Galignani, in Paris, hastened to publish as an acknowledged work +of Byron. Upon this Lord Byron hastened to remonstrate with Messieurs +Galignani; but unfortunately too late, and after the reputation of the +book was already widespread. Our theatres appropriated the subject, and +the story of Lord Ruthven swelled into two volumes which created some +sensation."<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> + +<p>Goethe also believed the novels to be true stories, and was especially +impressed with "Glenarvon."<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> It is reported that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88] </a></span> he became jealous +of Byron on the appearance of the poem of "Manfred." If he were not, it +is at least certain that the pagan patriarch never could sympathize with +the new generation of Christian geniuses.</p> + +<p>On the 7th of June, however, of the year 1820, Byron writes as follows +to Murray, from Ravenna:—</p> + +<p>"Inclosed is something which will interest you, to wit, the opinion of +the greatest man of Germany, perhaps of Europe, upon one of the great +men of your advertisements (all 'famous hands,' as Jacob Tonson used to +say of his ragamuffins)—in short, a critique of Goethe's upon +'Manfred.' There is the original, an English translation, and an Italian +one; keep them all in your archives, for the opinions of such a man as +Goethe, whether favorable or not, are always interesting; and this more +so, as being favorable. His 'Faust' I never read, for I don't know +German; but Matthew Monk Lewis, in 1816, at Geneva, translated most of +it to me <i>vivâ voce</i>, and I was naturally much struck with it: but it +was the 'Steinbach,' and the 'Yungfrau,' and something else, much more +than 'Faustus,' that made me write 'Manfred.' The first scene, however, +and that of 'Faustus' are very similar."</p> + +<p>One can scarcely conceive how so great a mind as that of Goethe could +have been duped by such mystifications. And yet this is what he wrote at +that time in a German paper relative to Byron's "Manfred:"—</p> + +<p>"We find in this tragedy the quintessence of the most astonishing talent +borne to be its own tormentor. The character of Lord Byron's life and +poetry hardly permits a just and equitable appreciation. He has often +enough confessed what it is that torments him. He has repeatedly +portrayed it, and scarcely any one feels compassion for this intolerable +suffering over which he is ever laboriously ruminating. There are, +properly speaking, two females whose phantoms forever haunt him, and +which, in this piece also, perform principal parts, one under the name +of Astarte, the other without form or actual presence, and merely a +voice. Of the horrid occurrence which took place with the former the +following is related. When a bold and enterprising young man, he won the +affections of a Florentine lady. Her husband discovered the amour, and +murdered his wife; but the murderer was the same night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89] </a></span> found dead in +the street, and there was no one to whom any suspicion could be +attached. Lord Byron removed from Florence, and these spirits haunted +him all his life after.</p> + +<p>"This romantic incident is rendered highly probable by innumerable +allusions to it in his poems."</p> + +<p>And Moore adds:—"The grave confidence with which the venerable critic +traces the fancies of his brother poet to real persons and events, +making no difficulty even of a double murder at Florence, to furnish +grounds for his theory, affords an amusing instance of the disposition, +so prevalent throughout Europe, to picture Byron as a man full of +marvels and mysteries, as well in his life as his poetry. To these +exaggerated or wholly false notions of him, the numerous fictions palmed +upon the world, of his romantic tours and wonderful adventures in places +he never saw, and with persons who never existed, have, no doubt, +considerably contributed, and the consequence is, so utterly out of +truth and nature are the representations of his life and character long +current upon the Continent, that it may be questioned whether the real +'flesh and blood' hero of these pages (the social, practical-minded, +and, with all his faults and eccentricities, English Lord Byron) may +not, to the over-exalted imaginations of most of his foreign admirers, +appear only an ordinary, unromantic, and prosaic personage."</p> + +<p>Then, quoting some of the falsehoods which were spread everywhere about +Byron, Moore says:—</p> + +<p>"Of this kind are the accounts, filled with all sorts of circumstantial +wonders, of his residence in the island of Mytilene; his voyages to +Sicily, to Ithaca, with the Countess Guiccioli, etc. But the most +absurd, perhaps, of all these fabrications are the stories told by +Pouqueville, of the poet's religious conferences in the cell of Father +Paul, at Athens; and the still more unconscionable fiction in which Rizo +has indulged, in giving the details of a pretended theatrical scene, got +up (according to this poetical historian) between Lord Byron and the +Archbishop of Arta, at the tomb of Botzaris, at Missolonghi."</p> + +<p>As the numerous causes which led to the false judgment of Byron's true +character never ceased to exist during his lifetime, one consequence has +been that those who never knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90] </a></span> him have never been able to arrive at +the truth of matters concerning him. The contrast which existed between +the real and imaginary personage was such as to cause the greatest +astonishment to all those who, having hitherto adopted the received +notions about him, at last came to know him at Ravenna, at Pisa, at +Genoa, and in Greece, up to the very last days of his life. But, before +quoting some of these fortunate travellers, I must transcribe a few more +passages from Moore:</p> + +<p>"On my rejoining him in town this spring, I found the enthusiasm about +his writings and himself, which I had left so prevalent, both in the +world of literature and society, grown, if any thing, still more genuine +and intense. In the immediate circle perhaps around him, familiarity of +intercourse must have begun to produce its usual disenchanting effect."</p> + +<p>"His own liveliness and unreserve, on a more intimate acquaintance, +would not be long in dispelling that charm of poetic sadness, which to +the eyes of distant observers hung about him; while the romantic +notions, connected by some of his fair readers with those past and +nameless loves alluded to in his poems, ran some risk of abatement from +too near an acquaintance with the supposed objects of his fancy and +fondness at present."</p> + +<p>"But, whatever of its first romantic impression the personal character +of the poet may, from such causes, have lost in the circle he most +frequented, this disappointment of the imagination was far more than +compensated by the frank, social, and engaging qualities, both of +disposition and manner, which, on a nearer intercourse, he disclosed, as +well as by that entire absence of any literary assumption or pedantry, +which entitled him fully to the praise bestowed by Sprat upon +Cowley—that few could ever discover he was a great poet by his +discourse."</p> + +<p>While thus by his friends, he was seen in his true colors, in his +weakness and in his strength, to strangers, and such as were out of this +immediate circle, the sternness of his imaginary personages were, by the +greater number of them, supposed to belong, not only as regarded mind, +but manners, to himself. So prevalent and persevering has been this +notion, that, in some disquisitions on his character published since his +death, and containing otherwise many just and striking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91] </a></span> views, we find, +in the portrait drawn of him, such features as the following:—"Lord +Byron had a stern, direct, severe mind: a sarcastic, disdainful, gloomy +temper. He had no sympathy with a flippant cheerfulness: upon the +surface was sourness, discontent, displeasure, ill-will. Of this sort of +double aspect which he presented, the aspect in which he was viewed by +the world and by his friends, he was himself fully aware; and it not +only amused him, but indeed to a certain extent, flattered his pride."</p> + +<p>"And if there was ever any tendency to derangement in his mental +conformation, on this point alone could it be pronounced to have +manifested itself. In the early part of my acquaintance with him, when +he most gave way to this humor, I have known him more than once, as we +have sat together after dinner, to fall seriously into this sort of dark +and self-accusing mood, and throw out hints of his past life with an air +of gloom and mystery designed evidently to awaken curiosity and +interest.... It has sometimes occurred to me that the occult cause of +his lady's separation from him, round which herself and her legal +adviser have thrown such formidable mystery, may have been nothing more, +after all, than some imposture of this kind, intended only to mystify +and surprise, while it was taken in sober seriousness."</p> + +<p>I have mentioned elsewhere how Moore, while justly appreciating the +consequences of this youthful eccentricity,—of which later, but too +late, Byron corrected himself,—does not equally appreciate the motives, +or rather the principal motive, which gave rise to it. As, however, he +judges rightly of the results, I shall continue to quote him for the +reader's benefit.</p> + +<p>"M. Galignani, having expressed a wish to be furnished with a short +memoir of Lord Byron for the purpose of prefixing it to the French +edition of his works, I had said jestingly, in a preceding letter to his +lordship, that it would but be a fair satire on the disposition of the +world to 'remonster his features' if he would write for the public, +English as well as French, a sort of mock heroic account of himself, +outdoing in horrors and wonders all that had been yet related or +believed of him, and leaving even Goethe's story of the double murder at +Florence far behind."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron replied from Pisa, on the 12th of December,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92] </a></span> 1821:—"What you +say about Galignani's two biographies is very amusing; and, if I were +not lazy, I would certainly do what you desire. But I doubt my present +stock of facetiousness—that is, of good serious humor—so as not to let +the cat out of the bag. I wish you would undertake it. I will forgive +and <i>indulge</i> you (like a pope) beforehand, for any thing ludicrous that +might keep those fools in their own dear belief that a man is a +<i>loup-garou</i>.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I told you that the 'Giaour' story had actually some +foundation in fact.... I should not like marvels to rest upon any +account of my own, and shall say nothing about it.... The worst of any +real adventures is that they involve living people."</p> + +<p>He at last tired of always appearing in the guise of a corsair, or of a +mysterious criminal, or of a hero of melodrama. These various disguises +had afforded him too much pain, and one day he said to Mr. Medwin:—</p> + +<p>"When Galignani thought of publishing a fresh edition of my works he +wrote to Moore to ask him to give him some anecdotes respecting me: and +we thought of composing a narrative filled with the most impossible and +incredible adventures, to amuse the Parisians. But I reflected that +there were already too many ready-made stories about me, to puzzle my +brain to invent new ones."</p> + +<p>Mr. Medwin adds:—</p> + +<p>"The reader will laugh when he hears that one of my friends assured me +that the lines of Thyrza, published with the first canto to 'Childe +Harold,' were addressed by Byron to his bear! There is nothing too +wicked to be invented by hatred, or believed by ignorance."</p> + +<p>Moore often refers to the wonderful contrast which existed between the +real and imaginary Byron. Thus, in speaking of his incredibly active and +sublime genius at Venice, he says:—</p> + +<p>"While thus at this period, more remarkably than at any other during his +life, the unparalleled versatility of his genius was unfolding itself, +those quick, chameleon-like changes of which his character, too, was +capable, were, during the same time, most vividly and in strongest +contrast, drawn out. To the world, and more especially to England,—the +scene at once<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93] </a></span> of his glories and his wrongs,—he presented himself in +no other aspect than that of a stern, haughty misanthrope, self-banished +from the fellowship of men, and most of all from that of Englishmen...."</p> + +<p>How totally all this differed from the Byron of the social hour, they +who lived in familiar intercourse with him may be safely left to tell. +The reputation which he had acquired for himself abroad, prevented +numbers, of course, of his countrymen, whom he would most cordially have +welcomed, from seeking his acquaintance. But as it was, no "English +gentleman ever approached him, with the common forms of introduction, +that did not come away at once surprised and charmed by the kind +courtesy and facility of his manners, the unpretending play of his +conversation, and, on a nearer intercourse, the frank youthful spirits, +to the flow of which he gave way with such a zest as even to deceive +some of those who best knew him into the impression that gayety was, +after all, the true bent of his disposition."</p> + +<p>I must confine myself to these quotations, as it is not in my power to +reproduce all that Moore has said on the subject. His statements, +however, prove two things:—</p> + +<p>First, that Lord Byron, instead of being a dark and gloomy hero of +romance, was a man full of amiability, goodness, grace, sociability, and +liveliness. Of the impression produced upon all those who knew him in +these combined qualities, I shall have occasion to speak hereafter.</p> + +<p>Secondly, that since even after Byron's death the fantastical notions +about him were entertained even by so impartial and so enlightened a +person as Sir Edward Brydges, it is not surprising (nor should they be +blamed for it) that Frenchmen, and all foreigners in general, and even a +great portion of Englishmen, should have believed in this fallacy. There +was no means at that time of clearing up the mystery, nor can one see in +this belief, however exaggerated, especially in France and on the +Continent, any spirit either of direct hostility, or even ill-will +toward him. The error was exported from England, and upon it they +reasoned, logically and oftentimes wittily. But surely those can not be +absolved who still adhere to the old errors, after the true state of +things had been disclosed at the poet's death in the writings of such +biographers as Moore,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94] </a></span> Parry, Medwin himself, Count Gamba, and others +who knew Byron personally.</p> + +<p>That a portion of the British public should maintain certain prejudices, +and preserve a certain animosity against Byron, is not matter of +astonishment to those who have at all studied the English character. The +spirit of tolerance which exists in the laws, is far from pervading the +habits of the people; cant is on the decrease, but not quite gone, and +may still lead one to a very fair social position. There still live a +host of enemies whom Byron had made during his lifetime, and the number +of whom (owing to a bonâ fide treachery, by the indiscreet publication +of a correspondence which was destined to be kept secret and in the +dark), increased greatly after his death from the number of people whose +pride he had therein wounded.</p> + +<p>He may be liable to the punishment due to his having trespassed on +certain exclusively English notions of virtue, as intimated in the +condemnation of the <i>imaginary</i> immorality of some of his works. He may +be accused, with some truth, of having been too severe toward several +persons and things. But not one of these reasons has any <i>locus standi</i> +in France,—a country which might claim a certain share in the honor of +having been his mother-country. Besides having a French turn of mind in +many respects, Byron, descended directly from a French stock, had been +conceived in France, and had long lived in its neighborhood. If those, +therefore, may be absolved who falsely appreciated Byron's character +both before and immediately after his death, the same indulgence can not +be extended to those who persist in their unjust conclusions. Such men +were greatly to blame; for, in writing about Byron, they were bound in +conscience to consult the biographers who had known him, and having +neglected to do so, either from idleness or from party spirit, they +failed in their duty as just and honorable men.</p> + +<p>Before finishing this chapter, we must add to these pages, which were +written many years ago, a few remarks suggested by the perusal of a +recent work which has caused great sensation by the talent which +pervades it, by its boldness, and original writing. I allude to the work +of M. Taine upon English literature; therein he appreciates, in a manly, +fine style,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95] </a></span> all the loftiness of Lord Byron's poetry, but always under +the influence of a received, and not self-formed, opinion. He likewise +deserves, by his appreciations and conclusions, the reproaches addressed +to the other critics of the illustrious and calumniated poet. In this +work, which is rather magnificent than solid, and which contains a whole +psychological system, one note is ever uppermost,—that of disdain. +Contempt, however, is not his object, but only his means. All must be +sacrificed to the triumph of his opinions.</p> + +<p>The glory of nations, great souls, great minds, their works, their +deeds, all must serve to complement his victory. Bossuet, Newton, Dante, +Shakspeare, Corneille, Byron, all have erred. If he despises them, if he +blames them, it is only to show that they have not been able to discover +the logical conclusions which M. Taine at last reveals to +us,—conclusions which are to transform and change the soul as well as +the understanding. This doctrine has hitherto been but a dream, and +society has, up to the present time, walked in darkness.</p> + +<p>This philosophical system is so beautifully set forth, that it can only +be compared to a skeleton, upon which a profusion of lovely-scented +flowers and precious jewels have been heaped, so that, notwithstanding +the horror it inspires, one is unable to leave it.</p> + +<p>Here, then, we find that M. Taine comes forth resolutely, by the help of +a vigorous understanding and a surpassing talent, to review all that +England has produced in a literary sense,—authors as well as their +works. The type which he has conceived alone escapes his censure. This +type must be the result of three primeval causes, viz., race, centre and +time. History must prove its correctness. History and logic might in +vain claim his indulgence on behalf of other types. He has conceived his +system in his own mind, and, to establish it, facts and characters are +made subservient to it; history's duty is to prove their correctness. +Indulgence can be shown to one type only.</p> + +<p>All he says is, however, so well said, that if he offended truth a +little less, if he only spoke for beings in another planet, and above +all, if, under these beautiful surroundings, one failed to notice the +gloom of a heaven without God, the work would enchant one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96] </a></span></p> + +<p>It must be allowed that the charms of truth are still to be preferred; +we must therefore be allowed to say a few words about M. Taine's system. +It can only be in one sense; not on account of any philosophical +pretension, nor in the hope of restoring nature to its rights, however +much we may grieve at seeing it reduced to a mere animal, nay, a +vegetable, and alas! may be, a mineral system.</p> + +<p>Many able pens will repeat the admirable words of one of the cleverest +men of the day, who, in his criticism upon M. Taine's book, has so +thoroughly examined how far a physiological method could be applied to +the comprehension of moral and intellectual phenomena, and has shown to +what fatal consequences such a method must lead. The analysis of the +moral world, the study of souls and of talent, of doctrines and of +characters, become in M. Taine's mind only a branch of zoology, and +psychology ends by being only a part of natural history.</p> + +<p>Many other able writers will echo the noble words of M. Caro, and will +not fail to point out the numerous contradictions which exist between +the work itself and history proper, between it and natural history, and, +finally, between it and the author himself.</p> + +<p>Thus, men who have never allowed that a thistle could produce a rose, +will question also whether those young Englishmen, whom M. Taine depicts +in such glowing colors,—"So active," says he, "just like harriers on +the beat flaring the air in the midst of the hunt," can be transformed +in a few years "into beings resembling animals good for slaughter, with +appearances equally anxious, vacant, and stupid; gentlemen six feet +high, with long and stout German bodies, issuing from their forests with +savage-looking whiskers and rolling eyes of pale earthenware-blue +color."</p> + +<p>Such critics will question whether the "pale earthenware-blue eyes" of +these ugly sires can possibly be those of the fathers of the candid-eyed +girls, the fairest among the fair treasures of this earth, whom M. Taine +describes in such exquisite terms:—</p> + +<p>"Delightful creatures, whose freshness and innocence can not be +conceived by those who have never seen them! full-blown flowers, of +which a morning rose, with its delicious and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97] </a></span> delicate color, with its +petals dipped in dew, can alone give an idea."</p> + +<p>Critics will deny the possibility of the existence of such a phenomenon, +so contrary to the laws of creation does it seem to be. Such airy-like +forms can not be produced by such heavy brutes as he describes. Say what +he likes, nature can not act in the manner indicated by M. Taine. Nature +must ever follow the same track.</p> + +<p>We, however, shall confine ourselves to oppose the real Lord Byron to +the fanciful one of M. Taine; and we say that the portrait of the poet +drawn by the latter is drawn systematically, in such a manner as to +contribute to the general harmony of his work. But truth can not be +subservient to systems. As M. Taine views Lord Byron from a false +starting point, it follows that, of course, the whole portrait of him is +equally unreal.</p> + +<p>All the colors in his picture are too dark. What he says of the poet is +not so false as it is exaggerated. This is a method peculiar to him. He +decidedly perceives the real person, but exaggerates him, and thus fails +to realize the original.</p> + +<p>If the facts are not always entirely false, his conclusions, and the +consequences suggested to him by them, are always eminently so.</p> + +<p>When the facts seem ever so little to lend themselves to his reasoning, +when the proportions of his victim allow of their being placed in the +<i>bed of Procrustes</i>, the magnificent draperies of which do not hide the +atrocious torture; then, indeed, does M. Taine respect history more or +less; when this is not the case, his imagination supplies the +deficiency. On this principle he gives us his details of Lord Byron's +parents and of the poet's childhood.</p> + +<p>He makes use of Lord Byron as an artist makes use of a machine: he +places him in the position which he has chosen himself, gives him the +gesture he pleases, and the expression he wishes. The portrait he shows +us of him may be a little like Lord Byron; but a very distant likeness, +one surrounded by a world of caprice of fancy and eccentricity which +serve to make up a powerful picture. It is the effect of a well-posed +manikin, with its very flexible articulations, all placed at the +disposal of M. Taine's system. The features may be slightly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98] </a></span> those of +Lord Byron, but the gestures and the general physiognomy are the clever +creations of the artist.</p> + +<p>This is how he proceeds, in order to obtain the triumph of his views:—</p> + +<p>He selects some quarter of an hour from the life of a man, probably that +during which he obeyed the impulses of nature, and judges his whole +existence and character by this short space of time.</p> + +<p>He takes from the author's career one page, perhaps that which he may +have written in a moment of hallucination or of extreme passion; and by +this single page he judges the author of ten volumes.</p> + +<p>Take Lord Byron, for instance. With regard to his infancy, M. Taine +takes care to set aside all that he knows to be admirable in the boy, +and only notices one instance of energy, one fit of heroic passion, into +which the unjust reprimand of a maid had driven him. The touching tears +which the little Byron sheds when, in the midst of his playmates, he is +informed that he has been raised to the dignity of a peer of the realm, +are no sign to M. Taine of a character equally timid, sensitive, and +good, but the result of pride. In this trait alone, M. Taine sees almost +sufficient ground to lay thereon the foundations of his work, and to +show us in the boy what the man was to be. A similar process is used in +the examination of Byron as an author. He analyzes "Manfred," which is +most decidedly a work of prodigious power, and all he says of it is +certainly both true and worthy of his own great talent; but is it fair +to say that the poet and the man are entirely revealed in this work, and +to dismiss all the other creations of the poet, wherein milder +qualities, such as feeling, tenderness, and goodness are revealed, and +shine forth most prominently? "Manfred" is the cry of an ulcerated +heart, still struggling, with all the energy of a most powerful soul, +against the brutal decrees of a recent persecution. Lord Byron felt +himself to be the victim of the relentless conduct of Lady Byron, and if +his mind was not deranged, at least his soul was wounded and ill at +ease, and it was this spirit that dictated "Manfred." Did he not clearly +confess it himself? When he sent "Manfred" to Murray, did he not say +that it was a drama as mad as the tragedy of "Lee Bedlam," in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99] </a></span> +twenty-five acts, and a few comic scenes—his own being only in three +acts?</p> + +<p>Did he not write to Moore as follows?—</p> + +<p>"I wrote a sort of mad drama for the sake of introducing the Alpine +scenery. Almost all the <i>dramatis personæ</i> are spirits, ghosts, or +magicians; and the scene is in the Alps and the other world, so you may +suppose what a Bedlam tragedy it must be.... The third act, like the +Archbishop of Grenada's homily (which savored of the palsy), has the +dregs of my fever, during which it was written. It must on no account be +published in its present state.... The speech of Manfred to the sun is +the only part of this act I thought good myself; the rest is certainly +as bad as bad can be, and I wonder what the devil possessed me."</p> + +<p>But let Byron's ideas take a different turn, as the lovely blue Italian +sky and the refreshing breezes from the Adriatic waters contribute to +quicken his blood, and other tones will be heard, wherein no longer +shall the excesses, but the beauties only of energy be discernible.</p> + +<p>What does M. Taine say then? This new aspect does not, evidently, +satisfy him! but what of that? He goes on to say that Byron's genius is +falling off. If the poet takes advantage of a few moments of melancholy +common to all poetical and feeling souls, M. Taine declares that the +melancholy English nature is always associated with the epicurean. What +is it to him, that England thinks differently? that in her opinion Lord +Byron's grandest and noblest conceptions are the poems which he wrote in +Italy, and even on the eve of his death? and that she finds his +liveliness "too real and too ultramontane to suit her national tastes?" +Nothing of this troubles M. Taine.</p> + +<p>Is it quite fair to judge so powerful a mind, so great and yet so simple +a being as Lord Byron, only by his "Manfred," or by some other passages +of his works, and especially of "Don Juan?" Can his amiable, docile, +tender, and feeling nature honestly be seen in the child of three years +of age, who tears his clothes because his nurse has punished him +unfairly? No; all that we see is what M. Taine wishes us to see for the +purpose he has in view, that is, admiration of the Lord Byron he has +conceived, and who is necessary to his cause,—a Byron only to be +likened to a furious storm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100] </a></span></p> + +<p>Wishing Byron to appear as the type of energy, M. Taine exhibits him to +our eyes in the light of Satan defying all powers on earth and in +heaven. The better to mould him to the form he has chosen, he begins by +disfiguring him in the arms of his mother, whom with his father and his +family he scruples not to calumniate. Storms having their origin in the +rupture of the elements, and a violent character being, according to M. +Taine, the result of several forces acting internally and mechanically; +it follows that its primary cause is to be found in the disturbed moral +condition of those who have given birth to him in the circumstances +under which the child was born, and in the influence under which he has +been brought up. Hence the necessity of supplementing from imagination +the historical and logical facts which otherwise might be at fault.</p> + +<p>As for Lord Byron's softness of manner, and as to that tenderness of +character which was the bane of his existence,—as to his real and great +goodness, which made him loved always and everywhere, and which caused +such bitter tears to be shed at the news of his death,—these qualities +are not to be sought in the strange, fanciful being who is styled Byron +by M. Taine. These qualities would be out of place; they would be +opposed to the idea upon which his entire system is founded. They must +be merged in the energy and greatness of intellect of the poetical +giant.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately for M. Taine, facts speak too forcibly and too +inopportunely against him. Not one of the causes which he mentions, not +one of the conclusions which he draws in respect to Lord Byron's +character as a poet, and as a mere mortal, are to be relied upon. He, +who contends that he possesses pre-eminently the power of comprehending +the man and the author, insists that Lord Byron was no exception to the +rule, though his best biographer, Moore, most distinctly opposes this +opinion:—</p> + +<p>"In Lord Byron, however, this sort of pivot of character was almost +wholly wanting.... So various indeed, and contradictory, were his +attributes, both moral and intellectual, that he may be pronounced to +have been not one, but many; nor would it be any great exaggeration of +the truth to say that out of the mere partition of the properties of his +single mind a plurality of characters, all different and all vigorous, +might have been furnished."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101] </a></span></p> + +<p>On the other hand, M. Taine, who generally pays little attention to the +opinion of others, gives as Lord Byron's predominant characteristic that +which phrenologists denominate "<i>combativité</i>." Which of the two is +likely to be right? If Moore is right, Lord Byron must have been almost +wanting in consistency of character; if Taine is correct, then Byron was +really of a most passionate nature. But as we have proved that Lord +Byron was not inconsistent, as Moore declares, except in cases where +this want of consistency did not interfere with his character as a man, +and, on the other hand, that no one had a less combative disposition, we +are forced to arrive at the conclusion that if Byron had one dominant +passion, it was most decidedly not that of "<i>combativité</i>." It is +impossible to deny that if in his early youth signs of resistance may +have appeared in his character, yet these had so completely disappeared +with the development of his intellect and of his moral sentiments that +no one more than himself hated controversies and discussions of all +kinds. In fact, no one was more obedient to the call of reason and of +friendship; and his whole life is an illustration of it.</p> + +<p>In order that Lord Byron should represent the English type, even if we +adopt M. Taine's philosophy, he should have had a deal of Saxon blood in +his veins. But this was not the case. It is the Norman blood which +predominates. He may be said to have been almost borne in France, and to +be of French extraction by his father, and of Scotch origin through his +mother. The total absence of the Saxon element, which was so remarkable +in him, was equally noticeable in his tastes, mind, sympathies, and +inclinations.</p> + +<p>He loved France very dearly, and Pouqueville tells a story, that when +Ali Pasha had got over the fright caused by the announcement that a +young traveller, named Byron (his name had been pronounced Bairon, which +made the Pasha believe he was a Turk in disguise), wished to see him, he +received the young lord very cordially. As he had just conquered Preveza +from the French, Ali Pasha thought he should be pleasing the Englishman +by announcing the fact to him. Byron replied—"But I am no enemy of +France. Quite the contrary, I love France."</p> + +<p>It might almost be said that he was quite the opposite of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102] </a></span> what a Saxon +should be. Lord Byron could not remain, and, actually, lived a very +short time, in England. His habits were not English, nor his mode of +living. Far from over-eating, as the English, according to M. Taine, are +said to do, Byron did not eat enough. He was as sober as a monk. His +favorite food was vegetables. His abstinence from meat dated from his +youth. His body was little adapted to the material wants of his country. +This remarkable sobriety was the effect of taste and principle, and was +in no ways broken by excesses which might have acted as compensations. +The excesses of which M. Taine speaks must have been at the utmost some +slight deviations from the real Pythagorean abstinence which he had laid +down as the rule of his life. Abroad, where he lived almost all his +life, he had none of the habits of his countrymen. He lived everywhere +as a cosmopolitan. All that his body craved for was cleanliness, and +this only served to improve his health and the marvellous beauty with +which God had gifted him.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron was so little partial to the characteristic features and +customs of the country in which he was born—"but where he would not +die"—that the then so susceptible <i>amour-propre</i> of his countrymen +reproached him with it as a most unpardonable fault.</p> + +<p>It was not he who would have placed England and the English above all +foreigners, and Frenchmen in particular; nor was it he who would have +declared them to be the princes of the human race. Justice and truth +forbade his committing himself to such statements in the name of +national pride.</p> + +<p>Are the animal rather than moral, and moral rather than intellectual +instincts of energy and will, which M. Taine so much admires in the +Saxon race, defects or qualities in his eyes? It is difficult to say, +for one never knows when he is praising or when he is condemning. +Judging by the very material causes from which he derives this +energy,—namely, the constitution of the people, their climate, their +frequent craving for food, their way of cooking the food they eat, their +drinks, and all the consequences of these necessities visible in the +absence of all sense of delicacy, of all appreciation of the fine arts, +and the comprehension of philosophy,—he must evidently intend to +depreciate them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103] </a></span></p> + +<p>But as regards Lord Byron in particular, it is equally certain that he +has no intention of depreciating him. For him alone he finds expressions +of great admiration and real sympathy. He allows him to represent the +whole nation, and to be the incarnation of the English character; but on +one condition,—that of ruling it as its sovereign. Thanks to this +supremacy, the poet escapes more or less the exigencies of M. Taine's +theories.</p> + +<p>M. Taine, however, is not subject to the weakness of enthusiasm. +Judging, as he does, in the light of a lover of nature, both of the +merits of virtue and of the demerits of vice, which to him are but fatal +results of the constitution, the climate, and the soil—"in a like +manner will sugar and vitriol"—why care about Lord Byron doing this or +the other <i>rightly</i> or <i>wrongly</i> rather than any one else? Nature +follows its necessary track, seeks its equilibrium, and ends by finding +it.</p> + +<p>What pleases him in Lord Byron, is the facility which is offered to him +of proving the truth of this fatalist philosophy which appears at every +page of his book.</p> + +<p>No one more than Byron could serve the purpose of M. Taine, and become, +as it were, the basis of his philosophical operations.</p> + +<p>His powerful genius, his short but eventful existence, which did not +give time for the cooling down of the ardor of youth, to harmonize it +with the tempered dictates of mature age,—the universality of his mind, +which can furnish arguments to every species of critics,—all +contributed wonderfully to the realization of M. Taine's object.</p> + +<p>Thus, thanks to the deceptive but generally received portrait which is +said to be that of Lord Byron, and to his identification with the heroes +of his poems, and in particular with "Manfred" and "Childe Harold," +aided by the impossibility which the human mind finds in estimating +moral subjects as it would a proposition of "Euclid," M. Taine has been +able to make use of a great name, and to make a fine demonstration of +his system, to call Byron the interpreter of the British genius, and his +poetry the expression of the man himself.</p> + +<p>In many respects, however, he has not been able to act in this way +without violating historical facts. This is what I hope to point out in +these pages, the object of which is to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104] </a></span> describe Byron as he was, and to +substitute, without any derogation to his sublimity of character, the +reality for the fiction created by M. Taine. To refute so brilliant and +so powerful a writer, my only means is to proceed in this work with the +help of positive proofs of the statements which I make, and by invoking +unimpeachable testimonies. These alone constitute weighty arguments, +since they all contribute to produce the same impression. In order that +truth may be restored to history, I shall adopt a system diametrically +opposed to that of M. Taine, or rather I shall abstain from all systems, +and from all pretensions to literary merit, and confine myself entirely +to facts and to reason.</p> + +<p>The reader will judge whether I shall be able to accomplish this object; +he will see how really unimportant are the causes which cast a shade +upon the memory of Byron, and how careful one should be not to give +credit too implicitly to the sincerity of that hypocritical praise which +several of his biographers have bestowed upon him. They have, as it +were, generally, taken a kind of pleasure in dwelling upon his age, his +rank, and other extenuating circumstances, as a cover to their censure, +just as if Byron ever required their forgiveness. In thus searching into +the secrets of his heart, and analyzing his life, the reader will soon +be obliged to admit, that if Byron, in common with others, had a few of +the faults of youth, he in return had a host of virtues which belonged +only to him. In short, if Byron is received in the light in which he was +esteemed by those who knew him personally, he will still constitute one +of the finest, most amiable, and grandest characters of his century. As +for ourselves, in summing up the merits of this very humble, but very +conscientious work, we can only repeat with delight the beautiful words +in which Moore sums up his own estimate of Lord Byron's worth: "Should +the effect of my humble labors be to clear away some of those mists that +hung round my friend, and show him, in most respects, as worthy of love +as he was, in all, of admiration, then will the chief and sole aim of +this work have been accomplished."<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> When political events obliged Count Gamba to quit Romagna, +he thought at first of going with his family to take up his abode at +Geneva. +</p><p> +Lord Byron, on learning this, through a letter from the Countess +Guiccioli, who had rejoined her family at Florence, disapproved of their +design, and begged Shelley—then on a visit to him at Ravenna—to +express for him his disapprobation, and state the reasons of it. Shelley +addressed the following letter in Italian to the countess, and the +project was abandoned:— +</p><p> +"<span class="smcap">Madam</span>,—At the request of my friend, Lord Byron, I consider it my duty +to offer you some considerations relative to the proposed journey to +Geneva, so as to give you an idea of the undesirable results likely to +follow. I flatter myself that you will accept this request of his, +together with the motives leading me to acquiesce, as an excuse for the +liberty taken by a total stranger. In acting thus, the sole object I +have in view is my friend's peace of mind, and that of those in whom he +is so deeply interested. I have no other motive, nor can entertain any +other; and let it suffice, in proof of my perfect sincerity, to assure +you that I also have suffered from an intolerant clergy at home, and +from tyranny, and that I like your family, have met with persecution and +calumny as my sole reward for love of country. +</p><p> +"Allow me, madam, to state the reasons for which it seems to me that +Geneva would not be an appropriate residence for your family. Your +circumstances offer some analogy with those existing between my family +and Lord Byron in the summer of 1816. Our dwellings were close together; +our mode of life was quiet and retired; it would be impossible to +imagine an existence simpler than ours, less calculated to draw down the +aspersions cast upon us. +</p><p> +"These calumnies were of the most unheard-of nature,—really too +infamous to permit us to treat them with disdain. Both Genevans and +English established at Geneva affirmed that we were leading a life of +the most unblushing profligacy. They said that we had made a compact +together for outraging all held most sacred in human society. Pardon me, +madam, if I spare you the details. I will only say that <i>incest</i>, +<i>atheism</i>, and many other things equally ridiculous or horrible, were +imputed to us. The English newspapers were not slow in propagating the +scandal, and the nation lent entire faith. +</p><p> +"Hardly any mode of annoying us was neglected. Persons living on the +borders of the lake opposite Lord Byron's house made use of telescopes +to spy out all his movements. An English lady fainted, or pretended to +faint, with horror on seeing him enter a saloon. The most outrageous +caricatures of him and his friends were circulated; and all this took +place in the short period of three months. +</p><p> +"The effect of this, on Lord Byron's mind, was most unhappy. His natural +gayety abandoned him almost entirely. A man must be more or less than a +stoic to bear such injuries with patience. +</p><p> +"Do not flatter yourself, madam, with the idea, that because Englishmen +acknowledge Lord Byron as the greatest poet of the day, they would +therefore abstain from annoying him, and, as far as it depended on them, +from persecuting him. Their admiration for his works is unwillingly +extorted, and the pleasure they experience in reading them does not +allay prejudice nor stop calumny. +</p><p> +"As to the Genevans, they would not disturb him, if there were not a +colony of English established in the town,—persons who have carried +with them a host of mean prejudices and hatred against all those who +excel or avoid them; and as these causes would continue to exist, the +same effects would doubtless follow. +</p><p> +"The English are about as numerous at Geneva as the natives, and their +riches cause them to be sought after; for the Genevans, compared to +their guests, are like valets, or, at best, like hotel-keepers, having +let their whole town to foreigners. +</p><p> +"A circumstance, personally known to me, may afford proof of what is to +be expected at Geneva. The only inhabitant on whose attachment and honor +Lord Byron thought he had every reason to count, turned out one of those +who invented the most infamous calumnies. A friend of mine, deceived by +him, involuntarily unveiled all his wickedness to me, and I was +therefore obliged to inform my friend of the hypocrisy and perversity we +had discovered in this individual. You can not, madam, conceive the +excessive violence with which Englishmen, of a certain class, detest +those whose conduct and opinions are not exactly framed on the model of +their own. This system of ideas forms a superstition unceasingly +demanding victims, and unceasingly finding them. But, however strong +theological hatred may be among them, it yields in intensity to social +hatred. This system is quite the order of the day at Geneva; and, having +once been brought into play for the disquiet of Lord Byron and his +friends, I much fear that the same causes would soon produce the same +effects, if the intended journey took place. Accustomed as you are, +madam, to the gentler manners of Italy, you will scarcely be able to +conceive to what a pitch this social hatred is carried in less favored +regions. I have been forced to pass through this hard experience, and to +see all dearest to me entangled in inextricable slanders. My position +bore some resemblance to that of your brother, and it is for that reason +I hasten to write you, in order to spare you and your family the evil I +so fatally experienced. I refrain from adding other reasons, and I pray +you to excuse the freedom with which I have written, since it is +dictated by sincerest motives, and justified by my friend's request. To +him I leave the care of assuring you of my devotion to his interests, +and to all those dear to him. +</p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"Deign, madam, to accept the expression of my highest esteem.</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 40em;">"Your sincere and humble servant,</span> +</p><p style="text-align:right"><span class="smcap">Percy B. Shelley</span>.<br /> +</p> +<p> +"P.S.—You will forgive a barbarian, madam, for the bad Italian in which +the honest sentiments of his letter are couched."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Moore, vol. ii. p. 8.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> When that extravagant book "Glenarvon" appeared, Moore +wrote a comic review on it, and sent the paper to Jeffrey, who thought +it a good caricature, and wanted to publish it in the "Edinburgh +Review." But the friends of the author of "Glenarvon" interfered to such +purpose that Jeffrey gave up the idea of mentioning the novel at all, +which was also approved by Lord Byron's friends as the best means of +proving, by silence, the contempt such a book merited.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Madame de Staël said one day at Coppet, with an air of +mystery, "You are often seen at night, Lord Byron, in your bark upon the +lake, accompanied by a white phantom." "Yes," answered he, "'tis my +dog." Madame de Staël shook her head, not at all convinced that he kept +such innocent company, for her head had been filled with fantastic tales +and lies about him. In this instance, however, she was somewhat right; +for the white phantom was not only his dog, but often Mrs. Shelley, and +even sometimes a young woman intimate with her. This lady, with whom he +had, and would have, nothing to do, was bent on running after him, +although he did all in his power to avoid her. She succeeded sometimes +in getting into the boat with the Shelleys, and thus made inquisitive +people talk. But Lord Byron was very innocent in it all, and even +victimized, for the <i>ennui</i> it caused him made him quit Switzerland and +the Alps, he loved so well, before the season was even over.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> "Essai sur Lord Byron," p. 177.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Lord Byron wrote to Moore in November, 1820:— +</p><p> +"Pray, where did you get hold of Goethe's 'Florentine' husband-killing +story? Upon such matters, in general, I may say, with Beau Clinker, in +reply to Erraud's wife:— +</p><p> +"'Oh, the villain, he hath murdered my poor Timothy!' +</p><p> +"<i>Clinker</i>.—'Damn your Timothy! I tell you, woman, your husband has +murdered me—he has carried away my fine jubilee clothes.'"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Moore, vol. ii. p. 782</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>LORD BYRON'S RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"When the triumph of a cause of such importance to humanity is in +question, there never can be too many advocates.... But it is not +enough to count up the votes; their value must, above all, be +weighed."—<span class="smcap">Sherer.</span></p></div> + + +<p>The struggles between heart and reason, in religious matters, began +almost with Lord Byron's infancy. His desire of reconciling them was +such, that, if unsuccessful, his mind was perplexed and restless. He was +not, as it were, out of the cradle, when, in the midst of his childish +play, the great problems of life already filled his youthful thoughts; +and his good nurse May, who was wont to sing psalms to him when rocking +him to sleep, had also to answer questions which showed the dangerous +curiosity of his mind.</p> + +<p>"Among the traits," says Moore, "which should be recorded of his earlier +years, I should mention, that, according to the character given of him +by his first nurse's husband, he was, when a mere child, 'particularly +inquisitive and puzzling about religion.'"</p> + +<p>At ten years of age, he was sent to school, at Dulwich, under the care +of the Rev. Dr. Glennie, who, in the account given by him to Moore, and +after speaking of the amiable qualities of Byron, adds: that "At that +age he already possessed an intimate acquaintance with the historical +facts in the Scriptures, and was particularly delighted when he could +speak of them to him, especially on Sunday evenings after worship." He +was wont then to reason upon all the facts contained in the Bible, with +every appearance of faith in the doctrine which it teaches.</p> + +<p>But while his heart was thus drawn toward its Creator, the power of his +reason began imperiously to assert its rights. As long as he remained +sheltered under his father's roof, under the eyes of his mother, and of +young ecclesiastics who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106] </a></span> were his first teachers, and whose practice +agreed with their teaching,—as long as his reason had not reached a +certain degree of development,—he remained orthodox and pious. But when +he went to college, and particularly when he was received at Cambridge, +a vast field of contradictions opened before his observing and thinking +mind. His reflections, together with the study of the great +psychological questions, soon clouded his mind, and threw a shade over +his orthodoxy. If Lord Byron, therefore, had really the misfortune to +lose at an earlier age than ordinary children, the simple faith of his +childhood, the fact is not to be wondered at. By the universality of his +genius he added to the faculties which form the poet, those of an +eminently logical and practical mind; and being precocious in all +things, he was likewise so in his powers of reflection and reasoning. +"Never," says Moore, "did Lord Byron lose sight of reality and of common +practical sense; his genius, however high it soared, ever preserved upon +earth a support of some kind."</p> + +<p>His intellectual inquisitiveness was likewise, with him, a precocious +passion, and circumstances stood so well in the way to serve this +craving, that when fifteen years of age (incredible as it seems), he had +already perused two thousand volumes, among which his powerful and vivid +intellect had been able to weigh the contradictions of all the principal +modern and ancient systems of philosophy. This thirst for knowledge +(anomalous according to the rules of both school and college) was the +more extraordinary that it existed in him together with a passionate +love for boyish play, and the indulgence in all the bodily exercises, in +which he excelled, and on which he prided himself. But as he stored his +mind after the usual college hours, and apart from the influences of +that routine discipline, which, with Milton, Pope, and almost all the +great minds, he so cordially hated, the real progress of his intellect +remained unobserved by his masters, and even by his fellow-students. +This mistake, on the part of men little gifted with quickness of +perception, was not shared by Disraeli, who could so justly appreciate +genius; and of Byron he spoke as of a studious boy, who loved to hide +this quality from his comrades, thinking it more amiable on his part to +appear idle in their eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107] </a></span></p> + +<p>While the young man thus strengthened his intellect by hard though +irregular study, his meditative and impassioned nature, feeling in the +highest degree the necessity of confirming its impressions, experienced +more imperatively than a youth of fifteen generally does, the want of +examining the traditional teachings which had been transmitted to him. +Byron felt the necessity of inquiring on what irrevocable proofs the +dogmas which he was called upon to believe were based. Holy writ, aided +by the infallibility of the teachings of the Church, etc., were adduced +as the proofs he required.</p> + +<p>He was wont, therefore, to read with avidity a number of books treating +on religious matters; and he perused them, both with artless ingenuity +and in the hope of their strengthening his faith. But, could he truly +find faith in their pages? Are not such books rather dangerous than +otherwise for some minds?</p> + +<p>"The truth is," says the author of the "Essays," "that a mind which has +never entertained a doubt in revelation, may conceive some doubts by +reading books written in its defense." And he adds elsewhere, in +speaking of the writers of such controversial works, that "impatient of +the least hesitation, they deny with anger the value of their +adversary's arguments, and betray, in their way of getting over +difficulties, a humor which injures the effects of their reasoning, and +of the proofs they make use of to help their arguments." After reading +several of these books, he must have found, as did the great Pitt, "that +such readings provoke many more doubts than they dispel;" and, in fact, +they rather disquieted and shook, than strengthened his faith. At the +same time, he was alive to another striking contradiction. He noticed +that the men who taught the doctrines, too often forgot to make these +and their practice agree; and in losing his respect for his masters, he +still further doubted the sincerity of their teaching. Thus, while +remaining religiously inclined, he must have felt his faith becoming +more and more shaken, and in the memorandum of his early days, after +enumerating the books treating upon religious subjects which he had +read, he says: "All very tedious. I hate books treating of religious +subjects; although I adore and love God, freed from all absurd and +blasphemous notions."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108] </a></span></p> + +<p>In this state of mind, of which one especially finds a proof in his +earlier poems, the philosophy of Locke, which is that professed at +Cambridge, and which he had already skimmed, as it were, together with +other philosophical systems, became his study. It only added an enormous +weight in the way of contradictions to the already heavy weight of +doubt.</p> + +<p>Could it be otherwise? Does not Locke teach that all ideas being the +creation of the senses, the notion of God, unless aided by tradition, +has no other basis but our senses and the sight of the external world? +If this be not the doctrine professed by Locke, it is the reading which +a logical mind may give to it.</p> + +<p>He believes in God; yet the notion of God, as it appears from his +philosophical teaching, is not that which is taught by Christian +doctrine. According to him, God is not even proclaimed to be the Creator +of the Universe. But even were He proclaimed such, what would be the +result of this philosophical condescension, unless it be that God is +distinct from the world? Would God possess then all those attributes +which reason, independently of all philosophy, points to in the +Divinity? Would power, goodness, infinite perfection be God's? Certainly +not: as we are unable to know Him except through a world of +imperfections, where good and evil, order and confusion, are mixed +together, and not by the conception of the infinite, which alone can +give us a true and perfect idea of God, it follows that God would be +much superior to the world, but would not be absolute perfection.</p> + +<p>After this depreciation of the Omnipotent, what says this philosophy of +our soul? It does away altogether with one of the essential proofs of +its spiritual nature, and thereby compromises the soul itself, declaring +as it does, that "it is not unlikely that matter is capable of thought." +But then of what necessity would the soul be, if the body can think? How +hope for immortality, if that which thinks is subject to dissolution and +to death?</p> + +<p>As for our liberty, it would be annihilated as a consequence of such +doctrines; for it is not supposed to derive its essence from the +interior activity of the soul, but would seem to be limited to our power +of moving. Yet we are hourly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109] </a></span> experiencing what our weakness is in +comparison with the power of the laws of nature, which rule us in every +sense and way. In making, therefore, all things derivable from +sensations, Locke fell from one error into another, and nearly arrived +at that point when duty and all principles of justice and morality might +be altogether denied. Being himself, however, both good, honest, +liberal, and Christian-minded, he could only save himself from the +social wreck to which he exposed others, by stopping on the brink of the +abyss which he had himself created, and by becoming in practice +inconsistent with his speculative notions. His successors, such as +Condillac and Cabanis, fell by following his system and by carrying it +too far.</p> + +<p>A doctrine which denies the right of discovering, or of explaining the +religious truths which are the grounds of all moral teaching, and which +allows tradition the privilege only of bestowing faith; a system of +metaphysics, which can not avoid the dangers in which morality must +perish, owing to its contradictions and its inconsistencies, must be +perilous for all but those happily constituted minds for whom simple +faith and submission are a part of their essence, who believe on hearsay +and seek not to understand, but merely glance at the surface of the +difficult and venturesome questions which are discussed before them, +either because they feel their weakness, or because the light of +revelation shines upon them so strongly as to make that of reason pale. +For more logical minds, however, for such who are inquisitive, whose +reason is both anxious and exacting, who want to understand before they +believe, for whom the ties which linked them to tradition have been +loosened, owing to their having reflected on a number of contradictions +(the least of which, in the case of Lord Byron, was decidedly not that +of seeing such a philosophy professed and adopted in a clerical +university); for minds like these such doctrines must necessarily lead +to atheism. Though Lord Byron's mind was one of these, he escaped the +fearful results by a still greater effort of his reason, which made him +reject the precepts of the sensualists, and comprehend their +inconsistencies.</p> + +<p>His protest against the doctrines of the sensualists is entered in his +memorandum, where, after naming all the authors<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110] </a></span> of the philosophical +systems which he had read, and, coming to the head of that school, he +exclaims from the bottom of his heart:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center">"Hobbes! I detest him!"</p></div> + +<p>And notwithstanding the respect with which the good and great Locke must +individually have inspired him, he evidently must have repudiated his +precepts, inasmuch as they were not strong enough to uproot from his +mind the religious truths which reason proclaims, nor prevent either his +coming out of his philosophical struggle a firm believer in all the +dogmas which are imperiously upheld to the human reason, or his +proclaiming his belief in one God and Creator, in our free will, and in +the immortality of the soul.</p> + +<p>This glorious and noble victory of his mind and true religious +tendencies at that time, is evinced in his "Prayer to Nature," written +when he had not yet reached his eighteenth year. In this beautiful +prayer, which his so-called orthodox friends succeeded in having cut out +of the volume containing his earliest poems, we find both great power of +contemplation and humility and confidence in prayer—a soul too near the +Creator to doubt of His Omnipotence, but also too far from Him for his +faith and confidence in the divine mercy not to be mixed up with a +little fear; in fact, all the essential elements of a noble prayer which +is not orthodox. Though written on the threshold of life, he might, with +few modifications, have signed it on the eve of his death; when, still +young, fate had spared him nothing, from the sweetest to the bitterest +feelings, from every deserved pleasure to every undeserved pain.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><b>THE PRAYER OF NATURE.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Father of Light! great God of Heaven!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Hear'st thou the accents of despair?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Can vice atone for crimes by prayer?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Father of Light, on thee I call!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thou seest my soul is dark within;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou who canst mark the sparrow's fall,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Avert from me the death of sin.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No shrine I seek, to sects unknown;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Oh, point to me the path of truth!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy dread omnipotence I own;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Spare, yet amend, the faults of youth.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111] </a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let bigots rear a gloomy fane,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Let superstition hail the pile,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let priests, to spread their sable reign,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">With tales of mystic rites beguile.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall man confine his Maker's sway</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To Gothic domes of mouldering stone?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy temple is the face of day;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Earth, ocean, heaven, thy boundless throne.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall man condemn his race to hell,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Unless they bend in pompous form?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tell us that all, for one who fell,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Must perish in the mingling storm?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall each pretend to reach the skies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Yet doom his brother to expire,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whose soul a different hope supplies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Or doctrines less severe inspire?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall these, by creeds they can't expound,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Prepare a fancied bliss or woe?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall reptiles, grovelling on the ground,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Their great Creator's purpose know?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall those who live for self alone,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Whose years float on in daily crime—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall they by faith for guilt atone,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And live beyond the bounds of Time?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Father! no prophet's laws I seek,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Thy</i> laws in Nature's works appear;—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I own myself corrupt and weak,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou, who canst guide the wandering star</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Through trackless realms of æther's space;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who calm'st the elemental war,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Whose hand from pole to pole I trace:</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou, who in wisdom placed me here,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Who, when thou wilt, canst take me hence,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah! while I tread this earthly sphere,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Extend to me thy wide defence.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To Thee, my God, to thee I call!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Whatever weal or woe betide,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">By thy command I rise or fall,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">In thy protection I confide.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If, when this dust to dust's restored,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">My soul shall float on airy wing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">How shall thy glorious name adored</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Inspire her feeble voice to sing!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But, if this fleeting spirit share</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">With clay the grave's eternal bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While life yet throbs I raise my prayer,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Though doom'd no more to quit the dead.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112] </a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To Thee I breathe my humble strain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Grateful for all thy mercies past,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And hope, my God, to thee again</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">This erring life may fly at last.</span><br /> +<br /></p> +<p style="margin-left: 10em"><i>December 29, 1806.</i> [First published, 1830.]<br /> +</p> + +<p>As much may be said of another poem which he likewise wrote in his +youth; when, very dangerously ill, and believing his last end to be +near, he turned all his thoughts to the other world, and conceived the +touching poem which ended in the lines:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Forget this world, my restless sprite;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Turn, turn thy thoughts to Heaven;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There must thou soon direct thy flight</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">If errors are forgiven."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>But if Lord Byron did not adopt Locke's philosophy he at least paid the +greatest tribute of regard to his goodness by following ever more +closely his best precept, which is to the effect that to love truth for +the sake of truth is an essential part of human perfection in this +world, and the fertile soil on which is sown the seed of every virtue.</p> + +<p>While his mind thus wavered between a thousand contradictory opinions, +and, finding part of the truth only in every philosophical system which +he examined, but not the whole truth—which was what his soul thirsted +for; calling himself at times skeptic, because he hesitated in adhering +to one school, in consequence of the numerous errors and inconsistencies +common to all (the great school which has, to the honor of France, +harmonized them all, was not yet open); but not losing sight of the +great eternal truths of which he felt inwardly the proofs, he made the +acquaintance of a young man who had just completed his university +education with great success. This young man, who exercised a great +influence over all his fellow-students, owing to his superior intellect, +influenced Byron in a similar manner. Bold, logical, inflexible, he was +not swayed by the dangers which the sensualistic teaching presented to +all logical minds; dangers which had frightened the chief of that school +himself, and who, in wishing to oppose them, had not been able to do so +except by contradictions. This young man, by a noble inconsistency, drew +back in presence of the moral conclusions of that metaphysical doctrine, +but not without culling from the master's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113] </a></span> thoughts conclusions, such +that they leave all that is spiritual and immortal without defense, +together with all the legitimate inferences to be derived from the +principles he taught, however impious or absurd.</p> + +<p>Among the Germans he had likewise met with several bold doctrines; but, +merely to speak here of the conclusions to which the school he belonged +necessarily brought him, he arrived at those conclusions by a series of +deductions from the study of those great questions, which experience +always ends by referring either to reason or to revelation. Compelled by +the tenets of that school, to solve all these problems by means of the +sensations only, he was naturally led to the conclusion that no such +thing existed as the spirituality of the soul, and hence, that it had +neither the gift of immortality nor that of liberty, nor any principles +of morality. Finally, obliged to seek in tradition the conviction that a +God existed, and that He can only be perceived through a maze of +imperfections, and not as reason conceives Him clearly and simply with +all His necessary attributes of perfection, he was even led to the +necessity of losing sight of a Creator altogether.</p> + +<p>The fatal precipice, which this young student himself avoided by the +practical conclusions by which he abided, Byron likewise escaped both by +his conclusions and his theoretical notions. He even hated the name of +atheist to that degree, that at Harrow he wished to fight his companion +Lord Althorpe, because he had written the word atheist under Byron's +name. This is so true that Sir Robert Dallas, of whose judgment no +interpretation can ever be given without making allowances for the +intolerant spirit and the exaggeration required by his notions of +orthodoxy and by his party prejudices, after regretting that Lord Byron +should not have had a shield during his minority to protect him against +his comrades, "proud, free-thinking, and acute sophists," as he calls +them, adds that, if surprise must be expressed, it is not that Byron +should have erred, but that he should have pierced the clouds which +surrounded him, and have dispersed them by the sole rays of his genius.</p> + +<p>So many struggles, however, so many contradictions, so many strains upon +the mind, while leaving his heart untouched, could not but multiply the +doubts which he conceived,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114] </a></span> and more or less modify his mind, and even +give to it a tinge of skepticism.</p> + +<p>When he left England for the first time, his mind was in this +transitory, suffering state. The various countries which he visited, the +various creeds with which he became acquainted the intolerance of the +one, the laxity in others in direct opposition to their superstitious +and irrational practices; the truly touching piety which he found in the +Greek monasteries (at Zytza and at Athens), in the midst of which and in +the silence of whose cloisters, he loved to share the peace and even the +austerities of a monkish life; his transition from the Western +countries, where reason is placed above imagination, to the East, where +the opposite is aimed at—all contributed to prevent what was +vacillating in his mind from becoming settled. Meanwhile endless +disappointments, bitter sorrows, and broken illusions contributed their +share to the pain which his mind experienced at every stage of its +philosophical inquiry, and contributed to give him, in the loneliness of +his life, a tinge of misanthropy opposed to his natural character, which +suggested the rather philosophical and generous than prudent conception +of "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," where he depicts his hero as +intellectually imbued with philosophical doctrines which lead practical +minds to skepticism and materialism! These doctrines resulted in causing +"Childe Harold" to lose that traditional faith which gives peace to the +soul by insuring conviction to the mind. The poet shows the +impossibility of withdrawing himself from their disastrous results when +arrived at the age when passions assert their rule, and when in a +certain social position, they must be carried into practice. Nature not +having gifted him with a sufficiently generous heart to check the +disease of his mind, Childe Harold, <i>disgusted with the sins of his +youth</i>, no longer seeks the road to virtue, but begins to experience +with Solomon the vanity of human things, becomes a prey to satiety, +ennui, and to insensibility to both physical and moral worth.</p> + +<p>Byron, who made the intellectual education of his day responsible for +Childe Harold's faults, had conceived this character in his earliest +days at Harrow. It was in any case, he said, a characteristic of the +youth of those days, although idealized and drawn from his own +imagination. His enemies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115] </a></span> and his rivals have endeavored to prove that +he wished to describe in this poem the state of his own mind. They made +capital out of a few historical and local circumstances, to give to +their falsehood some appearance of truth. But only those who did not +know him personally could be ignorant how improbable it was that any +resemblance between the poet and his hero could be maintained.</p> + +<p>Let us confine ourselves to the remark that Lord Byron, instead of +personifying his hero, personifies no one but simply the poet. Let us +add, besides, that in no case could Lord Byron be made responsible for +the consequences of the doctrines of the materialists, as held by his +hero. Not only because of his nature, which was totally opposed to them, +but also and especially because of his tendencies, which were eminently +and persistently those of a spiritualist, and which clung to him +throughout his life even at the time when he was accused of skepticism. +This was at the time when he wrote the second canto of "Childe Harold." +Thoughts, little in unison with, if not entirely opposed to his intimate +convictions, sprang from his sick heart to his head: his soul became +dejected, and his copious tears so obscured his eyes as to veil from +them for a time the existence of the Almighty, which he seemed to +question; and he appeared to think that if the Cambridge philosophy was +right in doubting the soul's spirituality, its immortality might be +equally questioned. These doubts having been expressed in his own, and +not in his hero's name, at the outset of the second canto of "Childe +Harold," led to his being also accused of skepticism.</p> + +<p>But if pain actually paralyzed for a time the elasticity of his mind, +the latter very soon recovered its natural vigor and showed itself in +all its glowing energy in the eighth and ninth stanzas, which are most +delicate emanations from a beautiful soul. The first stanzas alone, +however, continued to occupy the attention of some orthodox and +over-scrupulous minds: poetry not necessarily being a mode of teaching +philosophy. We must besides remark that the meaning of the lines is +purely hypothetical. In <i>saying</i> that the soul might <i>not be immortal</i>, +is it not saying much the same as was said by Locke in the words <i>the +soul is perhaps spiritual</i>? Is not that perishable which is capable of +dissolution according to the laws of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116] </a></span> world? Lord Byron, though a +stanch spiritualist at heart, derived his doubts from other much less +exalted authorities. Believing implicitly in the omnipotence of the +Creator, could he not modestly fear that God, who had made his soul out +of nothing, might cause it to return to nothing? Might he not imagine +that the contrary belief was rather the result of our wishes, of our +pride, and of the importance which we love to attach to ourselves? Can +the conviction of the existence of immortality, unless founded upon +revelation, be any thing else but a hope or a sentiment? Pantheists +alone find immortality to be the fatal consequence of their presumptuous +doctrine. But what an immortality! One to be laughed at, as a +philosopher of our days so well expresses it.</p> + +<p>Accused of skepticism, Byron replied by explaining the meaning of his +lines in a note which, at the instance of Mr. Dallas, he also consented +to suppress with his habitual good-nature, and in which he endeavored to +show that the spirit which pervaded the whole of the poem was rather one +of discouragement and despair, than raillery at religion, and that, +after all, the effect of religion upon the world had been less to make +men love their equals than to excite the various sects to a hatred +against one another, and thus give rise to those fanatical wars which +have caused so much bloodshed and injured so deeply the cause which they +were intended to defend.</p> + +<p>In reading this note again, one can with difficulty make out what +Dallas's objections were, and why he tried so hard to have it +suppressed; for it savors much more of a spirit of toleration and +charity than of skepticism. Lord Byron nevertheless withdrew it.</p> + +<p>But this was not enough to satisfy the British straight-lacedness. As +the accusations against his skepticism were on the increase daily, Mr. +Gifford, for whose enlightened opinion Byron ever had great respect, +advised him to be more prudent, whereupon Byron replied:—</p> + +<p>"I will do as you advise in regard to religious matters. The best would +perhaps be to avoid them altogether. Certainly the passages already +published are rather too rigorously interpreted. I am no bigot of +incredulity, and I did not expect that I should be accused of denying +the existence of God, because I had expressed some doubts as to the +immor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117] </a></span>tality of the soul.... After all, I believe my doubts to be but +the effects of some mental illness."</p> + +<p>It is clear from this letter, the tone of which is so honest and +sincere, that if in the stanzas which his rivals blamed there was really +more skepticism than can be gathered from the consideration of man's +littleness and God's greatness, yet it was not his real conviction. +Perhaps it was only a kind of cloud overhanging the mind, produced by +the great grief which weighed on his heart. These sentiments, however, +must have been really his own for some time longer. In his journal of +1813 he expresses himself thus:—</p> + +<p>"My restlessness tells me I have something within that 'passeth show.' +It is for him who made it to prolong that spark of celestial fire which +illuminates yet burns this frail tenement.... In the mean time I am +grateful for some good, and tolerably patient under certain evils, +<i>grace à Dieu et à mon bon tempérament</i>."</p> + +<p>But all this, as we have said, amounted to the opinion that an +omnipotent God is the author of our soul, which is of a totally +different nature to that of our body, and that the soul being spiritual +and not subjected to the laws which rule the body, the soul must be +immortal. That he who made it out of nothing can cause it to return to +nothing. The orthodox doctrine does not teach, as pantheism does, that +our soul can not perish. It gives it only an individual immortality.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding this, and indeed on account of it, he was accused of +being an atheist, in a poem entitled "Anti-Byron." This poem was the +work of a clever rival, who made himself the echo of a party. Murray +hesitated to publish it, but Byron, who was always just, praised the +poem, and advised its publication.</p> + +<p>"If the author thinks that I have written poetry with such tendencies, +he is quite right to contradict it."</p> + +<p>But having done so much for others, this time, at least, he fulfilled a +duty toward himself by adding:—</p> + +<p>"The author is however wrong on one point; I am not in the least an +atheist;" and ends by saying, "It is very odd; eight lines may have +produced eight thousand, if we calculate what has been and may still be +said on the subject."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118] </a></span></p> + +<p>He speaks of the same work to Moore, in the same tone of pleasantry:—</p> + +<p>"Oh, by-the-by, I had nearly forgot. There is a long poem—an +'Anti-Byron'—coming out, to prove that I have formed a conspiracy to +overthrow by rhyme all religion and government, and have already made +great progress! It is not very scurrilous, but serious and ethereal. I +never felt myself important till I saw and heard of my being such a +little Voltaire as to induce such a production."</p> + +<p>He therefore laughed at these accusations as too absurd. As for +skepticism, he did not defend himself from a touch of it; for not only +did he feel that the suspicious stanza could partly justify the belief, +but also because there did exist in him a kind of religious skepticism +which proceeded far more from meditation and observation than from a +passion for it. Such a skepticism is in truth a sigh for conviction. A +painful vision which appears to most reflective minds in a more or less +indistinct and vague manner, but which appeared more forcibly to him, +inasmuch as it sought to be expressed in words.</p> + +<p>"He," says Montaigne, "who analyzes all the circumstances which have +brought about matters, and all the consequences which have been derived +from them, debars himself from having any choice, and remains +skeptical."</p> + +<p>This skepticism of Lord Byron, however, did not overstep the boundaries +of permissible doubt, as prescribed by an intelligence desirous of +improvement. This privilege he exercised; and one might say that he +remained, as it were, suspended between heaven and earth, ever looking +up toward heaven, from whence he felt that light must come in the +end,—a light ever on the increase, which would daily steady him in the +great principles which form the fundamental basis of truth,—one God the +creator, the real immortality of our soul, our liberty and our +responsibility before God.</p> + +<p>Tired, however, of ever being the butt of the invectives of his enemies, +and of the clergy, whom he had roughly handled in his writings, Lord +Byron preferred remaining silent; and until his arrival in Switzerland +he ceased making any allusions in his writings to any philosophical +doubts which he may have entertained. The heroes which he selected for +his Oriental poems were, moreover, too passionate to allow the +mysterious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119] </a></span> voices from heaven to silence the cries from their heart. +These celestial warnings, however, Byron never ceased to hear, although +absorbed himself by various passions of a different kind; he was at that +time almost surrounded by an idolizing public, and rocked in the cradle +of success and popularity. This is but too visible whenever he ceases to +talk the language of his heroes, and expresses merely his own ideas and +his own personal feelings. It was at this time that he wrote those +delicious "Hebrew Melodies," in which a belief in spirituality and +immortality is everywhere manifest, and in which is to be found the +moral indication, if not the metaphysical proof, of the working of his +mind in a religious point of view, as he matured in years. Two of these +Melodies especially, the third and the fifteenth, contain so positive a +profession of faith in the spiritualist doctrines, and carry with them +the mark of so elevated a Christian sentiment, that I can not forbear +quoting them <i>in extenso</i>.</p> + + +<p style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>IF THAT HIGH WORLD.</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 8em">I.</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If that high world, which lies beyond</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Our own, surviving Love endears;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If there the cherish'd heart be fond,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The eye the same, except in tears—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">How welcome those untrodden spheres!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">How sweet this very hour to die!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To soar from earth and find all fears</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lost in thy light—Eternity!</span><br /> +</p> +<p style="margin-left: 8em;">II.</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">It must be so: 'tis not for self</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">That we so tremble on the brink;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And striving to o'erleap the gulf,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Yet cling to Being's severing link.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh! in that future let us think</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To hold each heart the heart that shares;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With them the immortal waters drink,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And soul in soul grow deathless theirs!</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><b>WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY.</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 8em;">I.</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When coldness wraps this suffering clay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! whither strays the immortal mind?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">It can not die, it can not stay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">But leaves its darken'd dust behind.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120] </a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then, unembodied, doth it trace</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">By steps each planet's heavenly way?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or fill at once the realms of space,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A thing of eyes, that all survey?</span><br /> +</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 8em;">II.</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A thought unseen, but seeing all,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All, all in earth or skies display'd,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Shall it survey, shall it recall:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Each fainter trace that memory holds</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">So darkly of departed years,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In one broad glance the soul beholds,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And all, that was, at once appears</span><br /> +</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 8em;">III.</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Before Creation peopled earth,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Its eyes shall roll through chaos back;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And where the furthest heaven had birth,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The spirit trace its rising track.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And where the future mars or makes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Its glance dilate o'er all to be,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While sun is quench'd or system breaks,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Fix'd in his own eternity.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 8em;">IV.</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Above our Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">It lives all passionless and pure:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An age shall fleet like earthly year;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Its years as moments shall endure.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Away, away, without a wing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A nameless and eternal thing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Forgetting what it was to die.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>There is no passage in Plato, or in St. Augustin, or in Pascal, which +can equal the sublimity of these stanzas.</p> + +<p>It was in this painful state of mind that he spent the unfortunate year +of his marriage. Having separated from his wife, he came to Geneva. +Here, at the same hotel—Hôtel de Secheron—Shelley had also arrived, +who some years previously had offered Byron a copy of his poem entitled +"Queen Mab." Here they became acquainted. Although only twenty-three +years of age, Shelley had already experienced much sorrow during his +short existence. Born of rich and aristocratic parents, and who +professed very religious and Tory principles, Shelley had been sent to +Eton at thirteen. His character was most peculiar. He had none of the +tastes of the young, could not stand scholastic discipline, despised +every rule and regulation, and spent his time in writing novels.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121] </a></span> He +published two when fifteen years old only, which appeared to be far +above what could be expected from a boy of his age, but which deserved +censure from their immoral tone. Owing to the nature of his mind, and +especially at a time when reading has much influence, Shelley had +conceived a great taste for the books which were disapproved of at +college. Consequently the doctrines of the materialist school, which +were the most in fashion then both in France and in England, so poisoned +his mind as to cause him to become an atheist, and to argue as such +against several theologians. He even published a pamphlet, so +exaggerated in tone that he entitled it, "On the Necessity of Atheism." +To crown this folly, Shelley sent round to all the bishops a copy of +this work, and signed it with his own name.</p> + +<p>Brought before the authorities to answer the charge of this audacious +act, he persisted in his doctrines, and was actually preparing an answer +to the judges in the same sense, when he was expelled from the +university.</p> + +<p>For people who know England a little, it is easy to conceive what an +impression such conduct must have produced on the part of the eldest son +of a family like his, of Tory principles, belonging to the aristocracy, +intimate with the prince regent, and stanch, orthodox and severe in +their religious tenets. Expelled from college, he was likewise sent away +from home; and when his indignant father consented to see him again, +Shelley was treated with such coldness that he was enraged at being +received as a stranger in the bosom of a family of which he was the +eldest son. This was not all: even the young lady for whom Shelley had +already conceived an affection, deemed it right to cast him off. +Overwhelmed by all these but too well merited misfortunes, he took +refuge in an inn, where he tried to poison himself.</p> + +<p>As he was struggling between life and death, a young girl of fifteen, +Miss Westbrook, took care of him. Believing himself to be past recovery, +and having no other means of rewarding her attention except by marrying +her, he did so, in the hope that after his death his family would +provide for her. But it is not always so easy to die, and he did not +die. His health, however, was completely broken, and all that remained +to him besides was an ill-assorted marriage. After the Gretna<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122] </a></span> Green +ceremony, Shelley went to reside in Edinburgh. His marriage so +exasperated his father, that from that time he ceased to have any +intercourse with him.</p> + +<p>From Scotland Shelley went to Ireland, which was then in a very +disturbed state. His metaphysics led him to conceive the most dangerous +social theories. Conquered by a very real love of humanity, which he +hoped to serve by the realization of his chimerical views, he even +believed it to be his duty to make proselytes. While recommending the +observance of peace, and of a spirit of moderation on the one hand, he, +on the other, published pamphlets and spoke at meetings with a degree of +talent which earned for him a certain amount of reputation, if not of +fame. Then he was seized with a violent admiration for the English +school called "Lockists," and devoted himself to poetry by way of giving +a literary expression to his metaphysical reveries, and to his social +theories. Thus he wrote "Queen Mab," a poem full of talent and +imagination, but which is only the frame which encircles his most +deplorable fancies. He sent a copy of it to all the noted literary men +of England, and among them to Lord Byron, whose star had risen since the +publication of "Childe Harold." Lord Byron declared, as may be seen in a +note to the "Due Foscari," that the metaphysical portion of the poem was +quite in opposition with his own opinions; but, with his usual +impartiality and justice, he admired the poetry which is noticeable in +this work, agreeing in this "with all those who are not blinded by +bigotry and baseness of mind."</p> + +<p>Shelley's marriage, contracted as it was under such strange auspices, +was, of course, very unfortunate. By his acquaintance with Godwin, one +of the greatest literary characters of his day, Shelley came to know +Mary, his daughter, by his marriage with the celebrated Mrs. +Woolstonecraft. Each fell in love with the other, but Shelley was not +yet free to marry Miss Godwin. He separated from the wife he had chosen +only from grateful motives, although he had two children by her, and he +left England for the first time, where he had become the object of +persecutions of all kinds, and of a hatred which at a later period +culminated in taking away his right to the guardianship of his children.</p> + +<p>Such was his position when Lord Byron arrived in Switzer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123] </a></span>land, and +alighted at the Hôtel Secheron. To make acquaintance, therefore, with +the author of "Queen Mab," and with the daughter of Godwin, for whom he +entertained great regard, was a natural consequence on the part of the +author of "Childe Harold."</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding their difference of character, their diversity of taste, +and their different habits, owing to the very opposite mode of living +which they had followed, the two poets felt drawn to one another by that +irresistible sympathy which springs up in the souls of two persecuted +beings, however just that persecution may have been, as regards Shelley, +but which was wholly unjust as regards Byron. Here we must allow Moore +to speak:—</p> + +<p>"The conversation of Shelley, from the extent of his poetic reading, and +the strange, mystic speculations into which his systems of philosophy +led him, was of a nature strongly to interest the attention of Lord +Byron, and to turn him away from worldly associations and topics into +more abstract and untrodden ways of thought. As far as contrast indeed +is an enlivening ingredient of such intercourse, it would be difficult +to find two persons more formed to whet each other's faculties by +discussion, as on few points of common interest between them did their +opinions agree: and that this difference had its root deep in the +conformation of their respective minds, needs but a glance through the +rich, glittering labyrinth of Shelley's pages to assure us.</p> + +<p>"In Lord Byron, the real was never forgotten in the fanciful. However +Imagination had placed her whole realm at his disposal, he was no less a +man of this world than a ruler of hers: and, accordingly, through the +airiest and most subtle creations of his brain, still the life-blood of +truth and reality circulates. With Shelley it was far otherwise: his +fancy was the medium through which he saw all things, his facts as well +as his theories; and not only the greater part of his poetry, but the +political and philosophical speculations in which he indulged, were all +distilled through the same over-refining and unrealizing alembic. Having +started as a teacher and reformer of the world, at an age when he could +know nothing of the world but from fancy, the persecution he met with on +the threshold of this boyish enterprise only confirmed him in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124] </a></span> first +paradoxical views of human ills, and their remedies. Instead of waiting +to take lessons from those of greater experience, he with a courage, +admirable, had it been but wisely directed, made war upon both.... With +a mind, by nature, fervidly pious, he yet refused to acknowledge a +Supreme Providence, and substituted some airy abstraction of 'Universal +Love' in its place. An aristocrat by birth, and, as I understand, also +in appearance and manners, he was yet a leveller in politics, and to +such an utopian extent as to be the serious advocate of a community of +goods. Though benevolent and generous to an extent that seemed to +exclude all idea of selfishness, he yet scrupled not, in the pride of +system, to disturb wantonly the faith of his fellow-men, and, without +substituting any equivalent good in its place, to rob the wretched of a +hope, which, even if false, would be better than all this world's best +truths.</p> + +<p>"Upon no point were the opposite tendencies of the two friends more +observable than in their notions on philosophical subjects: Lord Byron +being, with the great bulk of mankind, a believer in the existence of +matter and evil, while Shelley so far refined upon the theory of +Berkeley, as not only to resolve the whole of creation into spirit, but +to add also to this immaterial system, some pervading principle, some +abstract nonentity of love and beauty—of which, as a substitute at +least for Deity—the philosophic bishop had never dreamed."</p> + +<p>The difference existing between their philosophical doctrines was that +which existed between the two most opposed systems of spiritualism and +pantheism.</p> + +<p>I said that Shelley, notwithstanding his originality of mind, was +destined, through the mobility of his impressions, to be easily +influenced by what he read. The study of Plato and of Spinoza had +already given to his metaphysical views a different bent. But before his +transition from atheism to a mystical pantheism, before finding God in +all things, after having sought him in vain everywhere, before +considering himself to be a fragment of a chosen existence, and before +shutting himself up in a kind of mysticism which did actually absorb him +at a later period, he confined himself to a positive worship of nature, +which appeared to him then in the glorious shape of the mountains and +lakes of Helvetia. Wordsworth was his or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125] </a></span>acle, and thus cultivating a +poetry which deified nature, Shelley, in reality, remained at heart an +atheist, and doubtless tried to imbue Byron with his enthusiasm and with +his opinions.</p> + +<p>Himself greatly delighted with the beauties of the scenery in the midst +of which they lived, and, as he was wont to say in laughter, having +received many large doses of Wordsworth from Shelley, Lord Byron wrote +several stanzas in which the same enthusiasm may be met with, recorded +in terms almost of adoration.</p> + +<p>It was only a poetical form, however, a poetical illusion, which was +succeeded by stanzas in which God himself as our creator, was loudly +proclaimed. If in the seventy-second and following stanzas of the third +canto, opinions were expressed which savored of pantheistic tendencies, +they were at once followed by some such as these:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"All heaven and earth are still—though not in sleep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But breathless, as we grow when feeling most;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And silent, as we stand in thought too deep:—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All heaven and earth are still: from the high host</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of stars to the lull'd lake and mountain-coast,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All is concentred in a life intense,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But hath a part of being, and a sense</span><br /> +Of that which is of all <i>Creator</i> and <i>Defense</i>."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And again, on viewing the Alps, he writes the poem of "Manfred," in +which his belief in a One God, and Creator, is expressed in sublime +lines. His repugnance to atheism and to materialism is testified not +only in his poetry, but also by his own actions.</p> + +<p>On reaching Montauvert with his friend Hobhouse, and on the point of +ascending Mont Blanc with him, he found Shelley's name in the register +of the travellers, and under it the qualification of "atheist" written +in Shelley's own hand. Lord Byron at once scratched it out. But on +reading, a little below, a remark by another traveller, who had justly +rebuked Shelley's folly, Byron added the words, "The appellation is well +deserved."</p> + +<p>He soon after left the Alps, and came to Italy, without his views, +either philosophical or religious, being in the least altered by the +seductions of "that serpent," as he jokingly denominated Shelley.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126] </a></span></p> + +<p>We shall now follow him, step by step, until the end of his life, and we +shall see whether he will not show himself stanch in his adherence to +great principles. Lord Byron had enough of systems, and was disgusted +with their absurdity, their proud dogmatical views, and their intolerant +spirit. Whenever the great questions of life and the dictates of the +soul occupy his thoughts, either in the silence of the night or in the +absence of passion, we shall see him set himself resolutely to the +examination of his own conscience, for the purpose of arriving at truth +and justice. The answers which his powerful reasoning suggested to him +served to determine and confirm his faith in God.</p> + +<p>On leaving Geneva, Lord Byron proceeded to Milan. "One day," says Mr. +Stendhall, who knew Lord Byron at Milan, in 1817, and saw a great deal +of him there, "some people alluded to a couplet from the 'Aminta' of +Tasso, in which the poet appears to take credit to himself for being an +unbeliever, and expresses it in the lines which may thus be +translated:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Listen, oh my son, to the thunder as it rolls.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But what is it to us what Jupiter does up there?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let us rejoice down here if betroubled above;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let the common herd of mortals dread his blows:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And let the world go to ruin, I will only think</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of what pleases me; and if I become dust again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I shall only be what I have already been.'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Lord Byron says that these lines were written under the influence of +spleen. A belief in the existence of a superior Being was a necessity +for the fiery and tender nature of Tasso. He was, besides, far too +Platonic to try to reconcile such contrary opinions. When he wrote those +lines, he probably was in want of a piece of bread and a mistress."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron reached Venice, and there his most agreeable hours and days +were spent with Padre Pasquale, in the convent of the Armenian priests.</p> + +<p>He also wrote, at this time, the sublimely moral poem entitled +"Manfred," in which he renders justice to the existence of God, to the +free will of man, the abuse of which has resulted in the loss of +"Manfred," and retraces, in splendid lines, all the duties incumbent +upon man, together with the limits which he is not allowed to pass. The +apparition of his lovely and young victim, the uncertainty of her +happiness, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127] </a></span> causes Manfred's greatest grief, and finally his +supplication to her that he may know whether she is enjoying eternal +bliss,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">... "That I do bear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This punishment for both—that thou wilt be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">One of the blessed—...."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>the whole bears the impress of a truly religious spirit.</p> + +<p>He shortly afterward visited Rome, and finding himself in presence of +St. Peter's, he again gave expression to his religious sentiments, in +the admirable fourth canto of "Childe Harold," which Englishmen do not +hesitate to acknowledge as the finest poem which ever came from mortal +hands.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>TO ST. PETER.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Stanza</i> 153.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"Christ's mighty shrine above his martyr's tomb!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Stanza</i> 154.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"But thou, of temples old, or altars new,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Standest alone, with nothing like to thee.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Power, glory, strength, and beauty all are aisled</span><br /> +In this eternal ark of worship undefiled."<br /> +</p> + +<p>From Venice he went on to Ravenna. The persecution to which he was +subjected, on the ground of religion and morality, on account of the +publication of the two first cantos of "Don Juan," was then at its +height, and he was tormented in every possible way. It was useless for +him to protest, in verse, in prose, by letter, or by words, against the +accusation of his being an atheist and a skeptic. It was asserted that +"Manfred" was the expression of his doubts upon the dispensation of +Providence, and that his other poems, all more or less imbued with +passion, had tendencies of an irreverent nature in respect to the +Divinity. His two famous stanzas in "Childe Harold" were always held up +to him by the innumerable army of hypocrites and wicked people who +assailed him.</p> + +<p>All were not hypocrites, however; some were his enemies in good faith, +but were blinded by sectarian prejudices. Among these was an Irishman of +the name of Mulock, author of a work entitled "Atheism Answered." Lord +Byron one day at Ravenna received a paper from the editor of the +"Bo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128] </a></span>logna Telegraph," with extracts from this work, in which "there is a +long eulogium of" his "poetry, and a great <i>compatimento</i> for" his +"misery" on account of his being a skeptic and an unbeliever in Christ; +"although," says Mr. Mulock, "his bold skepticism is far preferable to +the pharisaical parodists of the religion of the Gospel, who preach and +persecute with an equally intolerant spirit."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron, writing that day to Murray, says:—</p> + +<p>"I never could understand what they mean by accusing me of irreligion. +They may, however, have it their own way. This gentleman seems to be my +great admirer, so I take what he says in good part, as he evidently +intends kindness, to which I can't accuse myself of being insensible."</p> + +<p>In the evening he talked to and laughed a good deal with the Countess +Guiccioli about this great <i>compatimento</i>,<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> treating it as a great +oddity. A few months later, Moore having written to him about this same +Mr. Mulock, and told him that that gentleman was giving lectures upon +religion, Lord Byron, while riding with the young Count G—— in the +forest of Ravenna, made his profession of faith, and finding his +youthful companion not quite orthodox, said to him: "The nature of +classical and philosophical studies generally paralyzes all logical +minds, and that is why many young heads leave college unbelievers: you +are even still more so, because you mix up your religious views with +your political antipathies. As for me, in my early youth, when I left +college, where I had to bow to very superior and stronger minds who +themselves were under various evil influences of college and of youth, I +was more than heterodox. Time and reflection have changed my mind upon +these subjects, and I consider Atheism as a folly. As for Catholicism, +so little is it objectionable to me, that I wish my daughter to be +brought up in that religion, and some day to marry a Catholic. If +Catholicism, after all, suggests difficulties of a nature which it is +difficult for reason to get over, are these less great than those which +Protestantism creates? Are not all the mysteries common to both creeds? +Catholicism at least offers the consolation of Purgatory, of the +Sacraments, of absolution and forgiveness; whereas Protestantism is +barren of consolation for the soul."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129] </a></span></p> + +<p>This open profession of faith, expressed by such a man as Lord Byron, in +a calm and dispassionate tone, produced a great impression upon the +young count. It had been so much the fashion to consider him as +irreligious, that one would say that even his friends were of the same +opinion. Some time had elapsed since Byron had sent a translation from +the Armenian of one of the Epistles of St. Paul, which Murray delayed in +publishing. Rather annoyed by this delay, Byron wrote to him on the 9th +of October, 1821, from Ravenna:—</p> + +<p>"The Epistle of St. Paul, which I translated from the Armenian, for what +reason have you kept it back, though you published that stuff which gave +rise to the 'Vampire?' Is it because you are afraid to print any thing +in opposition to the cant of the 'Quarterly' about Manicheism? Let me +have a proof of that Epistle directly. I am a better Christian than +those parsons of yours, though not paid for being so."</p> + +<p>If Byron hated fanatical and persecuting clergymen, he, on the other +hand, entertained great regard for priests of every denomination, when +he knew that they exercised their functions without fanaticism and in a +tolerant spirit. Among his dearest and earliest friends he placed two +young clergymen,<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> both distinguished in their profession by their +piety and their attainments. At Ravenna, his alms in favor of churches +and monasteries were very liberal. If the organ were not in order, if +the steeple wanted repairs, Lord Byron's pecuniary assistance was asked +for, and he ever gave liberally though it was for the benefit of the +Catholic community. He was always indignant at his writings, especially +if connected with religion, being sent back to him by Murray with +alterations to which he was no party. On one occasion he reproached him +in the following terms:—</p> + +<p>"In referring to the mistake in stanza 132, I take the opportunity to +desire that in future, in all parts of my writings referring to +religion, you will be more careful, and not forget that it is possible +that in addressing the Deity a blunder may become a blasphemy: and I do +not choose to suffer such infamous perversions of my words or of my +intentions. I saw the canto by accident."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130] </a></span></p> + +<p>His dearest paternal care was the religious education to be given to his +natural daughter, Allegra, who was with him at Ravenna. In writing to +Mr. and Mrs. Hoppner, to give them tidings of his dear Allegra, whom he +had sent to a convent in Romagna to be educated there, he declares that +in presence of the political disquietude which reigned in the Romagna, +he thought he could not do better than send his child to that convent. +Here "she would receive a little instruction, and some notions of +morality and the principles of religion."</p> + +<p>Moore adds to this letter a note, which runs thus:—</p> + +<p>"With such anxiety did he look to this essential part of his daughter's +education, that notwithstanding the many advantages she was sure to +derive from the kind and feminine superintendence of Mrs. Shelley, his +apprehensions lest her feelings upon religious subjects might be +disturbed by the conversation of Shelley himself prevented him from +allowing her to remain under his friend's roof."</p> + +<p>The Bible, as is well known, constituted his favorite reading. Often did +he find in the magnificent poetry of the Bible matter for inspiration. +His "Hebrew Melodies" prove it, and as for the Book of Job, he used to +say that it was far too sublime for him even to attempt to translate it, +as he would have wished. Toward the end of his stay at Ravenna, when his +genius was most fertile and almost superhuman—(he wrote five dramas and +many other admirable poems in fifteen months, that is to say, in less +time than it requires to copy them)—two biblical subjects inspired his +muse: "Cain," and "Heaven and Earth." Both were admirably suited to his +pen. He naturally treated them as a philosopher, but without any +preconceived notion of making any religious converts. His enemies +nevertheless seized hold of these pieces, to incriminate him and impugn +his religious belief. I have spoken elsewhere<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> of that truly +scandalous persecution. I will only add here that Moore, timid as he +usually was when he had to face an unpopularity which came from high +quarters, and alarmed by all the cries proceeding from party spirit, +wrote to approve the beauty of the poem in enthusiastic terms, but +disapproved of the harm which some doubts expressed therein might +produce. Byron replied:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"There is nothing against the immortality of the soul in 'Cain,' that I +recollect. I hold no such opinions; but in a drama the first rebel and +the first murderer must be made to talk according to his character."</p> + +<p>And in another letter he says, with regard to the same subject:—</p> + +<p>"With respect to religion, can I never convince you that I have no such +opinions as the characters in that drama, which seem to have frightened +every body? Yet they are nothing to the expressions in Goethe's 'Faust' +(which are ten times hardier), and not a whit more bold than those of +Milton's 'Satan.' My ideas of character may run away with me: like all +imaginative men, I, of course, embody myself with the character while I +draw it, but not a moment after the pen is from off the paper.</p> + +<p>"I am no enemy to religion, but the contrary. As a proof, I am educating +my natural daughter a strict Catholic in a convent of Romagna, for I +think people can never have enough of religion, if they are to have any. +I incline myself very much to the Catholic doctrines; but if I am to +write a drama, I must make my characters speak as I conceive them likely +to argue."</p> + +<p>The sympathy of persons sincerely religious was extremely agreeable to +him. A short time after he had left Ravenna for Pisa, a Mr. John +Sheppard sent him a prayer he had found among the papers belonging to +his young wife, whom he had lost some two years before. Lord Byron +thanked him in a beautiful letter, in which he consoled the distressed +husband by assuring him of his belief in immortality, and of his +confidence that he would again see the worthy person whom himself he +could not but admire, for her virtues and her pure and simple piety.</p> + +<p>"I am obliged to you," he added, "for your good wishes, and more than +obliged by the extract from the papers of the beloved object whose +qualities you have so well described in a few words. I can assure you +that all the fame which ever cheated humanity into higher notions of its +own importance, would never weigh in my mind against the pure and pious +interest which a virtuous being may be pleased to take in my welfare. In +this point of view I would not exchange the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132] </a></span> prayers of the deceased in +my behalf for the united glory of Homer, Cæsar, and Napoleon, could such +be accumulated upon a living head. Do me at least the justice to suppose +that</p> + +<p style="text-align: center">'Video meliora proboque,'</p> + +<p>however the <i>deteriora sequor</i> may have been applied to my conduct.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>."</p> + +<p>Not only did Lord Byron prevent his reason being influenced by the +arguments of others, but even by the dictates of his own heart. Both his +mind and his heart were perfectly independent of one another, nay, often +took different directions. It was to him unquestionably painful to see +such a division, but it was the fatal result of the excessive +development of the powers of each. In the same letter to Mr. Sheppard +which we have quoted, and which is full of gratitude for the prayers +which the young wife had addressed to heaven to obtain his conversion, +Byron adds:—</p> + +<p>"A man's creed does not depend upon himself: who can say, 'I will +believe this, that, or the other?' and, least of all, that which he +least can comprehend."</p> + +<p>Walter Scott once told him in London that he was convinced he would +daily become more and more religious.</p> + +<p>"What!" vehemently replied Lord Byron, "do you believe that I could +become bigoted?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Walter Scott, "I only think that the influence of some great +mind might modify your religious views."</p> + +<p>Galt says the same thing:—</p> + +<p>"A mind like Byron's," says he, "was little susceptible of being +impressed by the reasonings of ordinary men. Truth, in visiting him, +must come accompanied by every kind of solemnity, and preceded by +respect and reverence. A marked superiority, a recognized celebrity, +were indispensable to command his sincere attention."</p> + +<p>Without taking implicitly for granted the rather exaggerated opinion of +Galt with respect to Lord Byron, we must allow that the great poet's +attention could not be captivated by reasonings of a superficial kind, +but could be influenced only by great learning, and powerful arguments +which had conviction for their basis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133] </a></span></p> + +<p>But he might have found at Pisa the great intellectual influence spoken +of, for he found Shelley there. Seeing him every day, in the quiet +intimacy which the delightful sojourn in Tuscany procured for them, it +was easy for both to forget all the troubles of an agitated and +political existence, and only to think about the world of spirits. +Shelley had every opportunity for inculcating his doctrines, having, or +rather being able to exercise, the most exclusive influence upon Byron's +mind. Did he exercise that influence, and if he did not, for what +reason?</p> + +<p>We have said that Shelley, notwithstanding his original views, his +extreme readiness to be impressed by every thing he heard and saw, was +often the victim of his reading. He had read a great deal, and though +since he had written the "Apology for Atheism" he had not changed his +mind as to his metaphysical tenets, nevertheless the study of the German +philosophy, and especially of Spinoza's, had produced on him a +revolution of ideas. From a materialistic atheism, which denies the +existence of God in every thing, he had gone over to a kind of mystic +pantheism, which supposes God to be everywhere and in every thing. This +species of pantheism is in reality but a disguised atheism, but which, +in such a man as Shelley, appeared more in the actions of his life as a +pervading devotion than an impious belief. Shelley ever adored all that +is beautiful, true, and holy. From this it followed that his doctrines, +far from appearing to be the result of pride, seemed, on the contrary, +to be founded upon humility, sacrifice, and devotion to humanity. If the +mystic pantheism of Spinoza could have found a living justification of +its silly principles, and an excuse for its want of power, Shelley would +have supplied both. The individuality, always more or less egotistical, +which is prominent in the word <i>ego</i>, seemed positively to have ceased +to exist with him: one would have said that he almost already felt +himself absorbed in that universal and divine substance, which is the +God of Spinoza. If in a century like ours such a philosophy as +Eclecticism could return and become again a doctrinal institution, +Shelley might have personified it. He had so sacrificed his +individuality to chimeras of all kinds, that he appeared to consider +himself a mere phenomenon, and to look upon the external world as mere +fiction,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134] </a></span> in order that the impossible and never-to-be-found divinity of +his dreams might occupy all the space.</p> + +<p>He was perhaps the meekest, most generous, and the most modest of the +creatures of the true God, whom he yet persistently refused to recognize +as his Creator.</p> + +<p>If, however, there was no impiety in his irreligion, no real pride, in +his pride, there existed that weakness, if I may use the word, peculiar +to a brain which can not grasp at reality, but adheres to a chimera as a +basis for its arguments.</p> + +<p>"His works," says Galt, "are soiled by the false judgments proceeding +from a mind which made him look at every thing in a false light, and it +must be allowed that that mind was either troubled or defective by +nature."</p> + +<p>If this opinion is too severe, it is, however, certain that Shelley had +so exalted an imagination that his judgment suffered by it. As he is in +his works, so was he in all the commonest actions of his life. A few +anecdotes will serve to make him still better known.</p> + +<p>Once, at Pisa, he went to see Count Gamba, who expected him, for some +charitable purpose which they were to agree upon together. A violent +storm burst forth suddenly, and the wind tore a tile from a roof, and +caused it to fall on Shelley's head. The blow was very great, and his +forehead was covered with blood. This, however, did not in the least +prevent his proceeding on his way. When Count Gamba saw him in this +state he was much alarmed, and asked him how it had occurred. Shelley +replied quite calmly, passing his hand over his head, just as if he had +forgotten all about it, that it was true that the wind had blown down a +tile which had fallen on his head, but that he would be taken care of +later upon his return home. Shelley was not rich, but whenever he went +to his banker's it was necessary that no one should require his +assistance, in order that the money which he had gone to fetch should +come home untouched. As, on one occasion, he was returning from a visit +to his banker's, some one at the door of his house asked for assistance. +Shelley hastily got up the stairs, and throwing down his gold and notes +on the floor, rushed suddenly away, crying out to Mrs. Shelley, "There, +pick it all up." This the lady did as well as she could, for she was a +woman of order, and as much attached to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135] </a></span> the reality of things as her +husband was wanting in that particular.</p> + +<p>I shall not multiply these characteristic instances of the man, but will +only add that such incidents were by no means uncommon, nay, that they +were matters of daily occurrence.</p> + +<p>There was almost a kind of analogy in his life between him and Spinoza. +Notwithstanding their great qualities and merits, both were hated and +persecuted for sufficiently just motives,—society having the right of +repudiating doctrines which tend to its destruction; but both were +persecuted in undue and unfair proportions. Both had weak and sickly +constitutions. Both had great and generous souls. Both endeavored to +understand the laws which govern the destiny of the world, without ever +being subject to their moral consequences, and both devoted themselves +to be practically useful to their fellow-creatures—a contradiction +which was the effect of their too generous minds.</p> + +<p>In Shelley's heart the dominant wish was to see society entirely +reorganized. The sight of human miseries and infirmities distressed him +to the greatest degree; but, too modest himself to believe that he was +called upon to take the initiative, and inaugurate a new era of good +government and fresh laws for the benefit of humanity, he would have +been pleased to see such a genius as Byron take the initiative in this +undertaking. "He can be the regenerator of his country," wrote Shelley, +speaking of Byron, in 1818, at Venice.</p> + +<p>Shelley therefore did his best to influence Lord Byron. But the latter +hated discussions: he could not bear entering into philosophical +speculation at times when his soul craved the consolations of friendship +and his mind a little rest. He was quite insensible to reasonings, which +often appear sublime because they are clothed in words incomprehensible +to those who have not sought to understand their meaning. But he made an +exception in favor of Shelley. He knew that he could not shake his faith +in a doctrine founded upon illusions, by his incredulity: but he +listened to him with pleasure, not only on account of Shelley's good +faith and sincerity of meaning, but also because he argued upon false +data with such talent and originality that he was both interested and +amused. But with all his great and noble qualities was it to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136] </a></span> be +expected that Lord Byron would fall into the doctrines proffered by +pantheists? Doctrines rejected by reason, which wound the heart, are +opposed to the most imperative necessities of our nature, and only bring +desolation to our minds.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron had examined every kind and species of philosophy by the +light of common sense, and by the instinct of his genius: the result had +been to make him compassionate toward the vain weaknesses of the human +understanding, and to convince him that all systems which have +hypothesis as groundwork are illusions, and consequently likely to +perish with their authors.</p> + +<p>Pantheism in particular was odious to him, and he esteemed it to be the +greatest of absurdities. He made no difference between the Pantheism +"absolute," which mixes up that which is infinite with that which is +finite, and that which struggles in vain to keep clear of Atheism.</p> + +<p>In an age like ours, when the common tendency is of a materialistic +character, such as almost to defy the power of man, mysticism has little +or no <i>locus standi</i>. Shelley's opinions, on account of their appearance +of spiritualism, were most likely of any to interest Byron; but, founded +as they are upon fancy, could they please him? Could he possibly consent +to lose his individuality, deny his own freedom of will, all +responsibility of action, and hence all his privileges, his future +existence, and all principles of morality? Could he possibly admit that +the doctrine which prescribed these sacrifices was better than any +other? Even with the best intentions, could any of the essential, moral, +and holy principles of nature be introduced into such a system? Byron +could not but condemn it, and he attributed all Shelley's views to the +aberrations of a mind which is happier when it dreams than when it +denies.</p> + +<p>Here, then, was the cause of his being inaccessible to Shelley's +arguments. He used sometimes to exclaim, "Why Shelley appears to me to +be mad with his metaphysics." This he one day repeated to Count Gamba at +Pisa, as Shelley walked out and he came in. "We have been discussing +metaphysics," said he: "what trash in all these systems! Say what they +will, mystery for mystery, I still find that of the Creation the most +reasonable of any."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137] </a></span></p> + +<p>He made no disguise of the difficulties which he found in admitting the +doctrine of a God, Creator of the world, and entirely distinct from it; +but he added, "I prefer even that mystery to the contradictions by which +other systems endeavor to replace it." He certainly found that in the +mystery of Creation there existed the proof of the weakness of our +minds, but he declared that pantheism had to explain absurdities far too +evident for a logical mind to adopt its tenets. "They find," said he, +"that reason is more easily satisfied with a system of unity like +theirs, in which all is derived from one principle only: may be, but +what do we ask of truth? why all our never-ceasing efforts in its +pursuit? Is it merely that we may exercise the mind, and make truth the +toy of our imagination? Impossible. At any rate it would be a secret to +which, as yet, God has not given us any clue. But in doing this, in +constantly placing the phenomena of creation before us without their +causes or without ever explaining them, and at the same time instilling +into our souls an insatiable thirst for truth, the Almighty has placed +within us a voice which at times reminds us that He is preparing some +surprise for us; and we trust that that surprise may be a happy one."</p> + +<p>Poor Shelley lost his time with Byron. But, however much Byron objected +to his doctrines, he had no similar objection to Shelley himself, for +whom he professed a great respect and admiration. He grieved to find so +noble an intellect the victim of hallucination which entirely blinded +him to the perception of truth. Shelley, however, did not despair of +succeeding in making Byron some day give up what he termed his +philosophical errors, and his persistency earned for him the appellation +of "serpent" which Byron gave him in jest. This persistency, which at +the same time indicates the merit of Byron's resistance, has often been +mentioned by Shelley himself. Writing from Pisa to a friend in England, +a very few days before his death, and alluding to a letter from Moore +which Byron had shown him, and wherein "Cain" was attributed to the +influence which he (Shelley) had evidently exercised over Byron, he +said, "Pray assure Moore that in a philosophical point of view I have +not the slightest influence over Byron; if I had, be sure I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138] </a></span> use +it for the purpose of uprooting his delusions and his errors. He had +conceived 'Cain' many years ago, and he had already commenced writing it +when I saw him last year at Ravenna. How happy I should be could I +attribute to myself, even indirectly, a part in that immortal work!"</p> + +<p>Moore wrote to Byron on the same subject a little later, and received +the following reply:—"As for poor Shelley, who also frightens you and +the world, he is, to my knowledge, the least egotistical and kindest of +men. I know no one who has so sacrificed both fortune and sentiments for +the good of others; as for his speculative opinions, we have none in +common, nor do I wish to have any."</p> + +<p>All the poems which he wrote at this time, and which admitted of his +introducing the religious element either purposely or accidentally into +them, prove one and all that his mind, as regards religion, was as we +have shown it to be. This is particularly noticeable in his mystery +called "Heaven and Earth;" but the same remark is applicable to others, +such as the "Island," and even to some passages in "Don Juan." "Heaven +and Earth"—a poem which appeared about this time, and which he styled +"A Mystery"—is a biblical poem in which all the thoughts agree with the +Book of Genesis, and "which was inspired," says Galt, "by a mind both +serious and patriarchal, and is an echo of the oracles of Adam and of +Melchisedec." In this work he exhibits as much veneration for scriptural +theology as Milton himself. In the "Island," which he wrote at Genoa, +there are passages which penetrate the soul with so religious a feeling, +that Benjamin Constant, in reading it, and indignant at hearing Byron +called an unbeliever, exclaimed in his work on religion, "I am assured +that there are men who accuse Lord Byron of atheism and impiety. There +is more religion in the twelve lines which I have quoted than in the +past, present, and future writings of all his detractors put together."</p> + +<p>Even in "Don Juan," in that admirable satire which, not being rightly +understood, has given rise to so many calumnies, he says, after having +spoken in the fifteenth canto of the moral greatness of various men, and +among others of Socrates:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139] </a></span>—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">"And thou, Diviner still,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whose lot it is by man to be mistaken,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And thy pure creed made sanction of all ill?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Redeeming worlds to be by bigots shaken,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">How was thy toil rewarded?"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>At the end of this stanza he wrote the following note:——</p> + +<p>"As it is necessary in these times to avoid ambiguity, I say that I mean +by 'Diviner still,' Christ. If ever God was man—or man God—he was +both. I never arraigned his creed, but the use or abuse made of it. Mr. +Canning one day quoted Christianity to sanction negro slavery, and Mr. +Wilberforce had little to say in reply. And was Christ crucified that +black men might be scourged? If so, he had better been born a mulatto, +to give both colors an equal chance of freedom, or at least salvation."</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding these beautiful lines, which were equally professions of +faith, England, instead of doing Byron justice, continued more than ever +to persecute him.</p> + +<p>Shortly afterward he embarked at Genoa for Greece, and halted at +Cephalonia. He there made the acquaintance of a young Scotchman, named +Kennedy, who was attached as doctor to the Greek army. Before taking to +medicine this young man had studied law, with the intention of going to +the Edinburgh bar. He was so deeply convinced of the truths of +Christianity, and so familiar with its teaching, that he would fain have +imparted his belief to every one he met. From his position he found +himself among a host of young officers, mostly Scotch, and all more or +less lax in their religious practices. Among these, however, he met with +four who consented to listen to his explanation of the doctrines of +Christianity. As their principal challenge was to show proofs that the +Bible was of divine origin, he accepted the challenge in the hope of +making some conversions.</p> + +<p>One of these officers informed Lord Byron of this projected meeting, and +Byron, from the interest which he always took in the subject which was +to be their ground of discussion, expressed a wish to be present. "You +know," said he, "that I am looked upon as a black sheep, and yet I am +not as black as the world makes me out, nor worse than others,"—words, +which, from the fact of his rarely doing himself justice, were +noteworthy in his mouth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140] </a></span></p> + +<p>Under such auspices, then, was Kennedy fortunate enough to open his +discussion, and Lord Byron was present in company of the young Count +Gamba and Dr. Bruno.</p> + +<p>Mr. Kennedy has given a detailed account of this meeting, as also of his +subsequent conversations with Lord Byron. We will mention some of them +here, because they show Lord Byron's religious opinions in the latter +portion of his life. Mr. Kennedy had made a condition that he should be +allowed to speak, without being interrupted, but at various intervals, +for twelve hours. This condition, was soon set aside, and then Lord +Byron joined the conversation. After exciting admiration by his patient +silence, he astounded every one as an interlocutor. If Kennedy was well +versed in the Scriptures, Lord Byron was not less so, and even able to +correct a misquotation from Holy Writ. The direct object of the meeting +was to prove that the Scriptures contained the genuine and direct +revelation of God's will. Mr. Kennedy, however, becoming a little +entangled in a series of quotations, which had not the force that was +required to prove his statements, and, seeing that a little impatience +betrayed itself among the audience, could not resist showing some +temper, and accusing his hearers of ignorance. "Strange accusation, when +applied to Lord Byron," says Galt. Lord Byron, who had come there to be +interested, and to learn, did not notice the taunt of Mr. Kennedy, but +merely remarked, "that all that can be desired is to be convinced of the +truth of the Bible, as containing really the word of God; for if this is +sincerely believed, it must follow, as a necessary consequence, that one +must believe all the doctrines contained in it."</p> + +<p>He then added, that in his youth he had been brought up by his mother in +very strict religious principles; had read a large number of theological +works, and that Barrow's writings had most pleased him; that he +regularly went to church, that he was by no means an unbeliever who +denied the Scriptures, and wished to grope in atheism; but, on the +contrary, that all his wish was to increase his belief, as +half-convictions made him wretched. He declared, however, that he could +not thoroughly understand the Scriptures. He also added, that he +entertained the highest respect for, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141] </a></span> confidence in, those who +believed conscientiously; but that he had met with many whose conduct +differed from the principles they professed simply from interested +motives, and esteemed the number of those who really believed in the +Scriptures to be very small. He asked him about his opinion as to +various writers against religion, and among others of Sir W. Hamilton, +Bellamy, and Warburton, who pretend that the Jews had no notion of a +future existence. He confessed that the sight of so much evil was a +difficulty to him, which he could not explain, and which made him +question the perfect goodness of the Creator. He dwelt upon this +argument a long time, exhibiting as much tenderness of heart as force of +reasoning. Kennedy's answers were weak, as must be those of one who +denies the measure of evil, in order that he may not be compassionate +toward it, and who promises a reward in after life to escape the +necessity of its being bestowed in the present. In reply Lord Byron +pointed to moral and physical evil which exists among savages, to whom +Scripture is unknown, and who are bereft of all the means of becoming +civilized people. Why are they deprived of these gifts of God? and what +is to be the ultimate fate of Pagans? He quoted several objections made +to our Lord by the apostles; mentioned prophecies which had never been +fulfilled, and spoke of the consequences of religious wars. Kennedy +replied with much ability, and even with a certain degree of eloquence, +and prudently made use of the ordinary theological arguments. But to +influence such a mind as Byron's more was required. In the search after +truth, he looked for hard logic, and eloquence was not required by him. +Fénélon could not have persuaded him; but Descartes might have +influenced him. He preferred, in fact, in such arguments, the method of +the geometrician to that of the artist; the one uses truth to arrive at +truth, the other makes use of the beautiful only, to arrive at the same +end.</p> + +<p>The meeting lasted four hours, and created much sensation in the island, +and every one agreed in praising Lord Byron's great knowledge of the +Scriptures, joined to his moderation and modesty. Kennedy, however, a +little irritated by the superiority granted to his adversary, did his +best to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142] </a></span> dissipate the impression produced by it. He went so far as to +reproach his friends for having allowed themselves to be blinded by the +rank, the celebrity, and the prestige of Lord Byron. "His theological +knowledge being," said he, "in reality quite ordinary and superficial." +This meeting was the only one in which Lord Byron took a part, for he +left Argostoli for Metaxata.</p> + +<p>The meetings continued, however, for some time longer, and Kennedy +showed a zeal which deserved to meet with better success. He brought +before his audience with talent every possible reasoning in favor of +orthodoxy; but his audience, composed of young men, were far too +engrossed with worldly occupations to be caught by the ardor of their +master's zeal. Disappointed at not seeing Lord Byron again among them, +they all deserted Kennedy's lectures just at the time when he was going +to speak of miracles and prophecies, the subject of all others upon +which he had built his greatest hopes. Not only did they desert the +hall, but actually overwhelmed the speaker with mockery. Some declared +they would put off their conversion to a more advanced age; others +actually maintained that they had less faith than before.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Kennedy, though disappointed in his religious enthusiasm on +the one hand, received some consolation on the other, at the hands of +Lord Byron, who had not forgotten him, and who often inquired after him +though he had not been convinced by his arguments. Kennedy also had +conceived a great liking for Byron. He admired in the poet all his +graceful qualities and his unequalled talents. He wished, but dared not +yet, visit Lord Byron. Meeting, however, Count Gamba at Argostoli on one +occasion, and hearing from him that Byron was on the point of departure +for Continental Greece, he resolved to pay him a visit, "as much," said +he, "to show the respect which is due to such a man, as to satisfy one's +own curiosity in seeing and hearing so distinguished a person."</p> + +<p>Byron received him with his natural cordiality. He made him stay to +dinner with him, and thus gave him the opportunity of entering into a +long conversation. Kennedy, who never lost sight of his mission of +proselytism, brought the conversation round to the object of his wishes, +and prefaced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143] </a></span> his arguments by saying that he was prepared to talk upon +the matter; but that he had no doubt lost his time, since it was not +likely that his lordship would consider these subjects urgent at that +moment. Byron smiled and replied, "It is true that at the present time I +have not given that important subject all my attention, but I should +nevertheless be curious to know the motives which not only have +convinced you, as a man of sense and reflection, as you undoubtedly are, +of the truth of religion, but also have induced you to profess +Christianity with such zeal."</p> + +<p>"If there had been men," said Kennedy, "who had rejected Christianity, +there were greater men still who had accepted it; but to adopt a system +merely because others have adopted it is not to act rationally, unless +it is proved that the great minds which adopted it were mistaken."</p> + +<p>"But I have not the slightest desire," answered Byron, "to reject a +doctrine without having investigated it. Quite the contrary; I wish to +believe, because I feel extremely unhappy in a state of uncertainty as +to what I am to believe."</p> + +<p>Kennedy having told him then that to obtain the grace of faith, he +should pray humbly for it, Byron replied, that prayer does not consist +in the act of kneeling or of repeating certain words in a solemn manner: +"Devotion is the affection of the heart, and that I possess, for when I +look at the marvels of creation I bow before the Majesty of Heaven, and +when I experience the delights of life, health, and happiness, then my +heart dilates in gratitude toward God for all His blessings."</p> + +<p>"That is not sufficient," continued the doctor. "I should wish your +lordship to read the Bible with the greatest attention, having prayed +earnestly before that the Almighty may grant you the grace to understand +it. For, however great your talents, the book will be a sealed letter to +you unless the Holy Spirit inspires you."</p> + +<p>"I read the Bible more than you think," said Byron. "I have a Bible +which my sister, who is goodness itself, gave me, and I often peruse +it."</p> + +<p>He then went into his bedroom, and brought out a handsomely-bound pocket +Bible which he showed the doctor. The latter advised his continuing to +read it, but expressed his surprise that Byron should not have better +understood it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144] </a></span> He looked out several passages in which it is enjoined +that we should pray with humility if we wish to understand the truth of +the Gospel; and where it is expressly said that no human wisdom can +fathom these truths; but that God alone can reveal them to us, and +enlighten our understanding; that we must not scrutinize His acts, but +be submissive as children to His will; and that, as obedience through +the sin of our first parents, and our own evil inclinations, has become +for us a positive difficulty, we must change our hearts before we can +obey or take pleasure in obeying the commandments of our Lord God; and, +finally, that all, whatever the rank of each, are subject to the +necessity of obedience.</p> + +<p>Byron's occupations and ideas at that time were not quite in accordance +with the nature of these holy words, but he received them with his usual +kind and modest manner, because they came from one who was sincere. He +only replied, that, as to the wickedness of the world, he was quite of +his opinion, as he had found it in every class of society; but that the +doctrines which he had put forth would oblige him to plunge into all the +problems respecting the Old Testament and original sin, which many +learned persons, as good Christians as Dr. Kennedy, did not hesitate to +reject. He then showed the doctor, in answer to the latter's rather +intolerant assertion of the omnipotence of the Bible, how conversant he +was with the subject by quoting several Christian authors who thought +differently. He quoted Bishop Watson, who, while professing +Christianity, did not attribute such authority to the contents of the +Bible. He also mentioned the Waldenses, who were such good Christians +that they were called "the true Church of Christ," but who, +nevertheless, looked upon the Bible as merely the history of the Jews. +He then showed that the Book of Genesis was considered by many doctors +of divinity as a mere symbol or allegory. He took up the defense of +Gibbon against Kennedy's insinuation that the great historian had +maliciously and intentionally kept back the truth; he quoted Warburton +as a man whose ingenious theories have found much favor with many +learned persons; finally, he proved to the doctor that, in any case, he +could not himself be accused of ignorance of the subject.</p> + +<p>This conversation afforded him the opportunity also of re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145] </a></span>futing the +accusation brought against him by some of his numerous enemies; namely, +that of having a tendency to the doctrines of Manicheism. Kennedy having +said that the spirit of evil, as well as the angels, is subject to the +will of God, Lord Byron replied,——</p> + +<p>"If received in a literal sense, I find that it gives one a far higher +notion of God's majesty, power, and wisdom, if we believe that the +spirit of evil is really subject to the will of the Almighty, and is as +easily controlled by Him as the elements follow the respective laws +which He has made for them."</p> + +<p>Byron could not bear any thing which took away from the greatness of the +Divinity, and his words all tended to replace the Divinity in that +incomprehensible space where He must be silently acknowledged and +adored. Their conversation extended to other points of religious belief. +While the doctor, taking the Bible to be the salvation of mankind, +indulged in exaggerated and intolerant condemnation of the Catholic +Church, which he called an abominable hierarchy not less to be regretted +than Deism and Socinianism, Byron again displayed a spirit of toleration +and moderation. Though he disapproved of the doctor's language, he did +not contradict him, believing him to be sincere in his recriminations, +but brought back the conversation to that point from which common sense +should never depart. He deplored with him existing hypocrisies and +superstitions, which he looked upon as the cause of the unbelief of many +in the existence of God; but he added, that it was not confined to the +Continent only, but likewise existed in England. Instead of resting his +hopes upon the Bible, he said that he knew the Scriptures well enough +"to be sure that if the spirit of meekness and goodness which the +religion of the Gospel contains were put into practice by men, there +would certainly be a marvellous change in this wicked world;" and he +finished by saying, that as for himself he had, as a rule, ever +respected those who believed conscientiously, whatever that belief might +be; in the same manner as he detested from his heart hypocrites of all +kinds, and especially hypocrites in religion.</p> + +<p>He then changed the topic of conversation, and turned it to literature. +All he said on that subject is so interesting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146] </a></span> that I reserve the record +of it to another chapter. The doctor, however, soon resumed the former +subject of their conversation, and, more in the spirit of a missionary +than a philosopher, he went on to recommend the study of Christianity, +which he said was summed up entirely in the Scriptures.</p> + +<p>"But what will you have me do?" said Byron. "I do not reject the +doctrines of Christianity, I only ask a few more proofs to profess them +sincerely. I do not believe myself to be the vile Christian which +many—to whom I have never done any harm, and many of whom do not even +know me—strenuously assert that I am, and attack me violently in +consequence."</p> + +<p>The doctor insisted.</p> + +<p>"But," said Byron, "you go too fast. There are many points still to be +cleared up, and when these shall have been explained, I shall then +examine what you tell me."</p> + +<p>"What are those difficulties?" replied the doctor. "If the subject is +important, why delay its explanation? You have time; reason upon it; +reflect. You have the means of disposing of the difficulty at your +command."</p> + +<p>"True," answered Byron, "but I am the slave of circumstances, and the +sphere in which I live is not likely to make me consider the subject."</p> + +<p>As the doctor became more urgent, Byron said——</p> + +<p>"How will you have me begin?"</p> + +<p>"Begin this very night to pray God that he may forgive you your sins, +and may grant you grace to know the truth. If you pray, and read your +Bible with purity of intention, the result must be that which we so +ardently wish for."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes," replied Byron, "I will certainly study these matters with +attention."</p> + +<p>"But your lordship must bear in mind, that you should not be +discouraged, even were your doubts and difficulties to increase; for +nothing can be understood without sufficient time and pains. You must +weigh conscientiously each argument, and continue to pray to God, in +whom at least you believe, to give you the necessary understanding."</p> + +<p>"Why then," asked Byron, "increase the difficulties, when they are +already so great?"</p> + +<p>The doctor then took the mystery of the Trinity as an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147] </a></span> example, and +spoke of it as a man who has faith and accepts the mystery as a revealed +dogma.</p> + +<p>"It is not the province of man," said he, "to comprehend or analyze the +nature of an existence which is entirely spiritual, such as that of the +Divinity; but we must accept it, and believe in it, because it has been +revealed to us, being fully convinced that man in his present state will +never be able to fathom such mysteries."</p> + +<p>He not only blamed those who wish to explain all things, but likewise +the presumption of certain theologians in mixing up their own arguments +with the revelations of Scripture in order to prove the unity in the +Trinity, and who speculate upon the attributes of the Deity to ascertain +the relative mode of existence of each of the three persons who compose +the Trinity. "They must fall," he added, "or lead others to a similar +end." Hence he concluded that mysteries should be believed in +implicitly, as children believe fully what their parents tell them.</p> + +<p>"I therefore advise your lordship," said he, "to put aside all difficult +subjects,—such as the origin of sin, the fall of man, the nature of the +Trinity, the mystery of predestination, etc.,—and to study Christianity +not in books of theology, which, even the best, are all more or less +imperfect, but in the careful examination of the Scriptures. By +comparing each part of it, you will at last find a harmony so great in +all its constituent parts, and so much wisdom in its entire whole, that +you will no longer be able to doubt its divine origin, and hence that it +contains the only means of salvation."</p> + +<p>To so firm and enviable a faith, Byron replied as follows:—</p> + +<p>"You recommend what is very difficult; for how is it possible for one +who is acquainted with ecclesiastical history, as well as with the +writings of the most renowned theologians, with all the difficult +questions which have agitated the minds of the most learned, and who +sees the divisions and sects which abound in Christianity, and the +bitter language which is often used by the one against the other; how is +it possible, I ask, for such a one not to inquire into the nature of the +doctrines which have given rise to so much discussion?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148] </a></span> One Council has +pronounced against another; Popes have belied their predecessors, books +have been written against other books, and sects have risen to replace +other sects; the Pope has opposed the Protestants and the Protestants +the Pope. We have heard of Arianism, Socinianism, Methodism, Quakerism, +and numberless other sects. Why have these existed? It is a puzzle for +the brain; and does it not, after all, seem safer to say 'Let us be +neutral; let those fight who will, and when they have settled which is +the best religion, then shall we also begin to study it?'</p> + +<p>"I, however, like," he continued, "your way of thinking, in many +respects; you make short work of decrees and councils, you reject all +which is not in harmony with the Scriptures, you do not admit of +theological works filled with Latin and Greek of both high and low +church, you would even suppress many abuses which have crept into the +Church, and you are right; but I question whether the Archbishop of +Canterbury or the Scotch Presbyterians would consider you their ally.</p> + +<p>"As for predestination, I do not believe as S—— and M—— do on that +subject, but as you do; for it appears to me that I am influenced in a +manner which I can not understand, and am led to do things which my will +does not direct. If, as we all admit, there is a supreme Ruler of the +universe, and if, as you say, He rules, over both good and bad spirits, +then those actions which we perform against our will are likewise under +His direction. I have never tried to sift this subject, but satisfied +myself by believing that there is, in certain events, a predestination +which depends upon the will of God."</p> + +<p>The doctor replied, "that he had founded his belief upon his own +grounds."</p> + +<p>The doctor then touched upon the differences which existed in religious +opinions, and expressed his regret at this, while showing, nevertheless, +some indulgence for those Christian sects which do not attack the actual +fundamental doctrines of Christianity. But he was intolerant as regards +other sects, such as Arianism, Socinianism, and Swedenborgianism, of +which he spoke almost with passion.</p> + +<p>"You seem to hate the Socinians greatly," remarked By<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149] </a></span>ron, "but is this +charitable? Why exclude a Socinian, who believes honestly, from any hope +of salvation? Does he not also found his belief upon the Bible? It is a +religion which gains ground daily. Lady Byron is much in favor with its +followers. We were wont to discuss religious matters together, and many +of our misunderstandings have arisen from that. Yet, on the whole, I +think her religion and mine were much alike."</p> + +<p>Of course the doctor deplored the existence of such bold doctrines.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron then spoke of Shelley:—</p> + +<p>"I wish," he said, "you had known him, and that I might have got you +both together. You remind me of him, not only in looks, but by your +manner of speaking."</p> + +<p>Besides physical appearance, it is easy to understand that there existed +a great likeness between the two minds, different though their moral +tendencies might have been. In both could be traced that degree of +mysticism and expansiveness, which make the poet and the missionary. +Byron praised the virtues of Shelley, and styled them Christian, and +spoke mainly of his great benevolence of character, and of his +generosity above his means.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied the doctor, "such rare virtues are esteemed among +Christians, but they can not be called Christian virtues, unless they +spring from Christian principles: and in Shelley they were not so. His +virtues might deserve human praise, they were no doubt pagan virtues; +but they were nothing in the eyes of God, since God has declared that +nothing pleases Him but that which springs from a good motive, +especially the love of and belief in Christ, which was wanting in +Shelley."</p> + +<p>When Kennedy had characterized Shelley in even stronger terms, Byron +said to him: "I see it is impossible to move your soul to any sympathy, +or even to obtain from you in common justice a little indulgence for an +unfortunate young man, gifted with a lofty mind and a fine imagination."</p> + +<p>These remarks reveal the tolerant spirit of Lord Byron, but they also +show how the best natures are spoiled by dogmatism.</p> + +<p>The conversation had lasted several hours. Night was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150] </a></span> coming on, and the +doctor, carried away by his zeal, had forgotten the hour. His host, +however, did nothing to remind him of it, and when Kennedy got up to +take his leave, he said to Byron, after making excuses for remaining so +long, "God having gifted you, my lord, with a mind which can grasp every +subject, I am convinced that if your lordship would devote yourself to +the study of religion, you would become one of its lights, the pride of +your country, and the consolation of every honest person."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron replied:—</p> + +<p>"I certainly intend to study the matter, but you must give me a little +time. You see that I have begun well: I listen to all you say. Don't you +find that my arguments are more like your own than you would have +thought?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the doctor, "and it gives me great pleasure. I have far +better hopes of your lordship's conversion than of that of the young +officers who listened to me without understanding the meaning of my +words. You have shown greater patience and candor than I could have +imagined you to be capable of; whereas they, on the contrary, exhibited +so hardened a spirit that they appeared to look upon the subject as one +which lent itself admirably to ridicule and laughter."</p> + +<p>"You must allow," said Byron, "that in the times in which we are now +living it is difficult to bestow attention to any serious religious +matter. I think, however, I can promise to reflect even more on the +subject than I have done hitherto, without, however, promising to adopt +your orthodox views."</p> + +<p>The doctor then asked him leave to present him with the work of B——, +which he commended in high terms. Lord Byron said he would have great +pleasure in reading it, and told the doctor that he should always be +happy to see him, and at any time that he liked to come. "Should I be +out when you come," he added, "take my books and read until my return."</p> + +<p>On leaving Byron the doctor reflected over all that had taken place, and +feared that his zeal had carried him too far—that his long conversation +might have tired rather than interested Byron; but on the whole, he +concluded by saying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151] </a></span> to himself, "It appears to me, that Byron never +exhibited the least symptom of fatigue, but, on the contrary, +continually showed great attention from beginning to end."</p> + +<p>We have, perhaps, dwelt too much in our report of this conversation, but +we wished to do so for several reasons. First, because it shows, better +than a public debate, the real thoughts and feelings of Byron on +religious matters, next, the real nature of his religious opinions, and +finally we find, in Byron's conversation, virtues such as amiability, +goodness, patience, delicacy, and toleration, which have not been +sufficiently noticed.</p> + +<p>The sympathy which Kennedy had conceived for Byron after the public +meeting greatly increased after this first conversation. The candor and +simplicity depicted on his handsome countenance, showed that his lofty +intelligence could, better than any one else, grasp the theories of the +doctor; and the latter felt that if he could not prevail in making Byron +a believer in his own orthodox views, at least he could prepare the way +for the acquirement of every virtue, and he resolved, therefore, to +profit by the permission given him of often visiting Byron.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the young officers continued their jokes, and pretended that +Byron was laughing at the doctor, and making use of him in order to +study Methodism, which he wished to introduce into his poem of "Don +Juan." There is, however, a community of feeling between two frank +natures, and Byron felt that the doctor's sincerity commanded respect, +while the doctor, on the other hand, knew that Lord Byron was too +earnest to condescend to a mockery of him.</p> + +<p>"There was," says Kennedy, "nothing flighty in his manner with me, and +nothing which showed any desire to laugh at religion."</p> + +<p>When he returned to see Lord Byron, he found him more than ever +preoccupied with his approaching departure for Continental Greece, and +engrossed with a multitude of various occupations and visits. Byron, +nevertheless, received him most graciously, and maintained that jovial +humor which was one of his characteristics in conversation. Byron had +reflected a good deal since his last interview with the doctor, but the +direction which his thoughts had taken was not pre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152] </a></span>cisely that which the +doctor had advised him to pursue. They did not agree with the tenets of +the doctor's religion. The latter had not advised an unlimited use of +one's reason, but, on the contrary, had recommended reliance on the +traditional and orthodox teachings of the Church. To reason, however, +constituted in Byron a positive necessity. He could not admit that God +had given us the power of thought not to make use of it, and obliged us +to believe that which in religion, as in other things, appears +ridiculous to our reason and shocks our sense of justice. "It is useless +to tell me," he said, somewhere in his memoranda, "that I am to believe +and not to reason: you might just as well tell a man, 'Wake not, but +sleep.' Then to be threatened with eternal sufferings and torments!—I +can not help thinking that as many devils are created by the threat of +eternal punishment, as numberless criminals are made by the severity of +the penal laws."</p> + +<p>Mysteries and dogmas, however, were not objectionable to Byron. This was +shown in his conversation with Kennedy on the subject of the Trinity and +of predestination. However little disposed he may have been to believe +in mysteries, he nevertheless bowed in submission before their +existence, and respected the faith which they inspire in minds more +happily constituted than his own. His partial skepticism, or rather that +in him which has been so denominated, was humble and modest in +comparison to Montaigne's skepticism. Byron admitted that these were +mysteries because the littleness of man and the greatness of God were +ever present to him. He would have agreed with Newton in saying that "he +was like a child playing on the beach with the waves which bathed the +sands. The water with which he played was what he knew; what he ignored +was the widespread ocean before him." Surrounded as we are by mysteries +on all sides, he would have esteemed it presumption on his part to +reject, in the name of science, all the mysteries of religion, when +science itself has only to deal with phenomena. All is necessarily a +mystery in its origin, and not to understand was no sufficient reason in +the eyes of Byron to deny altogether the existence of matters relating +to the Divinity. Could he reject religious dogmas under the pretext of +not being able to understand them, when he admitted others<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153] </a></span> equally +difficult of comprehension, although supported by logical proofs?</p> + +<p>Among the mysteries of religion founded entirely upon revelation, there +was one, however, which not only weighed upon his mind, but actually +gave him positive pain. This was the dogma of eternal punishment, which +he could not reconcile with the idea of an omnipotent Creator, as +omnipotence implies perfect goodness and justice, of which the ideal has +been implanted in our hearts. Here again his objections sprang from +kindness of disposition.</p> + +<p>After speaking a while on the subject of prayer, Byron said to +Kennedy:—</p> + +<p>"There is a book which I must show you," and, having chosen from a +number of books on the table an octavo volume, entitled "Illustrations +of the Moral Government of God, by E. Smith, M.D., London," he showed it +to Kennedy, and asked him whether he knew of it. On Kennedy replying in +the negative, Byron said that the author of the book proved that hell +was not a place of eternal punishment.</p> + +<p>"This is no new doctrine," replied Kennedy, "and I presume the author to +be a Socinian, who, if consistent at all with his opinions, will sooner +or later reject the Bible entirely, and avow himself to be what he +really is already, namely, a Deist. Where did your lordship find the +book?"</p> + +<p>"It was sent to me from England," replied Byron, "to convert me, I +suppose. The author's arguments are very powerful. They are taken from +the Bible, and, while proving that the day will come when every +intellectual being will enjoy the bliss of eternal happiness, he shows +how impossible is the doctrine which pretends that sin and misery can +exist eternally under the government of a God whose principle attributes +are goodness and love."</p> + +<p>"But," said Kennedy, "how does he then explain the existence of sin in +the world for upward of 6000 years? That is equally inconsistent with +the notion of perfect love and goodness as united in God."</p> + +<p>"I can not admit the soundness of your argument," replied Byron; "for +God may allow sin and misery to co-exist for a time, but His goodness +must prevail in the end, and cause their existence to cease. At any rate +it is better to believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154] </a></span> that the infinite goodness of God, while +allowing evil to exist as a means of our arriving at perfection, will +show itself still greater some day when every intellectual being shall +be purified and freed from the bondage of sin and misery."</p> + +<p>As Kennedy persisted in arguing against the author's opinions, Lord +Byron asked him "Why he was so desirous of proving the eternity of hell, +since such a doctrine was most decidedly against the gentle and kind +character of the teaching of Christ?" To other arguments on the same +subject, Byron replied, that he could not determine as to the justice of +their conclusions, but that he could not help thinking it would be very +desirable to show that in the end all created beings must be happy, and +therefore rather agreed with Mr. Smith than with the doctor.</p> + +<p>As Lord Byron, however, had always allowed that man was free in thought +and action, and therefore a responsible being made to justify the ends +of Providence, he believed that Providence did give some sanction to the +laws implanted in our natures. Sinners must be punished, but a merciful +God must proportion punishments to the weakness of our natures, and +Byron therefore inclined toward the Catholic belief in Purgatory, which +agreed better with his own appreciation of the goodness and mercy of +God.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron's preference for Catholicism is well known. His first +successes of oratory in the House of Lords were due to the cause of +Catholicism in Ireland, which he defended; and when he wished his little +daughter Allegra to be brought up in the Catholic faith, he wrote to Mr. +Hoppner, British consul at Venice, who had always taken a lively +interest in the child, to say that:—</p> + +<p>"In the convent of Bagna-Cavallo she will at least have her education +advanced, and her morals and religion cared for.... It is, besides, my +wish that she should be a Roman Catholic, which I look upon as the best +religion, as it is assuredly the oldest of the various branches of +Christianity."</p> + +<p>This predilection for Catholicism was not the result of the poetry of +that religion, or of the effect which its pomps and gorgeous ceremonies +produced upon the imagination. They, no doubt, were not indifferent to a +mind so easily impressed as his, but not sufficient to justify his +preference; for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155] </a></span> Byron, although a poet, never allowed his reason to be +swayed by his imagination. He reasoned upon every subject. His +objections proceeded as much from his mind as his heart. "Catholicism," +he was wont say, "is the most ancient of worships; and as for our own +heresy, it unquestionably had its origin in vice. With regard to those +difficulties which baffle our understanding, are they more easily +explained by Protestants than by Catholics?</p> + +<p>"Catholicism, at least, is a consoling religion, and its belief in +Purgatory conciliates the justice of the Almighty with His goodness. Why +has Protestantism given up so human a belief? To intercede for and do +good to beings whom we have loved here below, is to be not altogether +separated from them."</p> + +<p>"I often regretted," he said on one occasion at Pisa, "that I was not +born a Catholic. Purgatory is a consoling doctrine. I am surprised that +the Reformers gave it up, or that they did not at least substitute for +it something equally consoling." "It is," he remarked to Shelley, "a +refinement of the doctrine of transmigration taught by your stupid +philosophers."</p> + +<p>It was, therefore, chiefly this doctrine, and his abhorrence of Calvin, +which attracted Byron toward Catholicism. A comparison was made before +him, on one occasion, between Catholicism and Protestantism. "What +matters," said Byron, "that Protestantism has decreased the number of +its obligations, and reduced its articles of faith? Both religions +proceed from the same origin,—authority and examination. It matters +little that the measures of either be different; but why does the +Protestant deny to the Catholic the privilege, which he claims more than +he uses, of free examination? Catholics also claim the right of proving +the soundness of their belief, and, therefore, admit likewise the right +of discussion and examination. As for authority, if the Catholic obeys +the Church and considers it infallible, does not the Protestant do the +same with the Bible? And while recognizing the authority of the Church +on the one hand, on the other he claims a right to free examination, +does he not incur the liability of being thought inconsistent? And, +after all, is not the authority of the Church the better of the two? +There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156] </a></span> seems to greater peace for the mind who confides in it, than in +the belief in the authority of a book, where one must ever seek the way +to salvation by becoming a theologian, as it were. And is it not fairer +to have certain books, such, for instance, as the 'Apocalypse,' +explained to us by the Church, than to have them expounded by people +more or less well informed or prejudiced?"</p> + +<p>Such were Byron's views, if not his very words. Before Byron left for +Greece, Kennedy had several other conversations with him; but as the +limits of this chapter do not allow of my entering into them, I will +merely add that they all prove the great charm of Byron's mind, and the +gentleness of his nature in dealing with persons of contrary opinions to +his own, but who argued honestly and from conviction. So it came about +that, although the most docile of the doctor's pupils, he refused to +change his views concerning eternal punishment. During one of the last +of Kennedy's visits to him, he found several young men with Lord Byron, +and among these M. S——, and M. F——. The former, seated at one corner +of the table, was explaining to Count Gamba certain views which were any +thing but orthodox. Lord Byron turned to the doctor, and said:—</p> + +<p>"Have you heard what S—— said? I assure you, he has not made one step +toward conversion; he is worse than I am."</p> + +<p>M. F—— having joined in the conversation, and said that there were +many contradictions in the Scriptures, Byron replied:—</p> + +<p>"This is saying too much: I am a sufficiently good believer not to +discover any contradictions in the Scriptures which can not, upon +reflection, be explained; what most troubles me is eternal punishment: I +am not prepared to believe in so terrible a dogma, and this is my only +difference with the doctor's views; but he will not allow that I am an +orthodox Christian, unless I agree with him in that matter."</p> + +<p>This was said half-seriously, half-jestingly, but in so amiable a +manner, and in a tone which was so free from mockery, that even the +austere doctor was fain to forgive him for entertaining such erroneous +views.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157] </a></span></p> + +<p>When Byron left for Missolonghi, he carried away with him a real regard +for Kennedy, notwithstanding their differences of opinion. Kennedy, on +the other hand, had conceived for Byron the greatest liking, and, +indeed, shows it in his book. His portrait of Lord Byron is so good, +that we have thought it right to reproduce it, together with his general +impressions in another chapter.</p> + +<p>Byron's death plunged Kennedy into the deepest grief; and it was then +that he gathered all his conversations which he had had with Lord Byron +into one volume, which he published. But his friends, or so-called +friends, showed themselves hostile to the publication. Some feared that +he would exaggerate either Lord Byron's faith or want of it, and others, +less disinterested, apprehended the revelation of some of their own +views, which might fail to meet with the approval of the public at home. +When, therefore, Kennedy applied to several of these who were at +Missolonghi to know in what religious frame of mind Byron died, he met +with rebukes of all kinds, and his credit was attacked by articles in +newspapers, endeavoring to show that Byron had all along been laughing +at the doctor. All these attacks might have influenced Kennedy's picture +of Byron, but it will be seen that, with the exception of a few +puritanical touches, the artist's picture is not unworthy of the +original.</p> + +<p>In the preface to his book, the doctor, not knowing whether he should +make use of the conversation he had had with Byron to give a greater +interest to his work, the object of which was to be of use to the +public, answers his own objections in the following words:—</p> + +<p>"If my doing so would injure his character or fame, there could not be a +moment's hesitation in deciding on the baseness of the measure. But, as +far as I can judge, a true statement of what occurred will place his +lordship's character in a fairer light than he has himself done in many +of his writings, or than can, perhaps, be done by a friendly biographer. +The brightest parts of his life were those which he spent in Cephalonia +and Missolonghi, and the fact of his wishing to hear Christianity +explained by one, simply because he believed him to be sincere, +confessing that he derived no happiness from his unsettled notions on +religion, expressing a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158] </a></span> desire to be convinced, and his carrying with +him religious books, and promising to give the subject a more attentive +study than he had ever done, will throw a certain lustre over the darker +side of his fame, ... and deprive deists of the right of quoting him as +a cool, deliberate rejecter of Christianity."</p> + +<p>To these very significant declarations, coming as they do from so +conscientious a believer as Kennedy, I shall add the testimony of a few +persons who have been conspicuous by their hostility to Byron. Mr. Galt +is one of these, and yet he says:—</p> + +<p>"I am persuaded, nevertheless, that to class him among absolute infidels +were to do injustice to his memory, and that he has suffered +uncharitably in the opinion of the 'rigidly righteous,' who, because he +had not attached himself to any particular sect or congregation, assumed +that he was an adversary to religion. To claim for him any credit as a +pious man would be absurd; but, to suppose he had not as deep an +interest as other men 'in his soul's health and welfare,' was to impute +to him a nature which can not exist."</p> + +<p>And elsewhere, after showing, first, what Byron did not believe in; +secondly, what he would have liked to believe, but which had not +sufficient grounds to satisfy his reason; thirdly, what he did actually +believe, Mr. Galt adds:—</p> + +<p>"Whatever was the degree of Lord Byron's dubiety as to points of faith +and doctrine, he could not be accused of gross ignorance, nor described +as animated by any hostile feeling against religion."</p> + +<p>The same biographer says elsewhere:—</p> + +<p>"That Byron was deeply imbued with the essence of natural piety; that he +often felt the power and being of a God thrilling in all his frame, and +glowing in his bosom, I declare my thorough persuasion; and that he +believed in some of the tenets and in the philosophy of Christianity, as +they influence the spirit and conduct of men, I am as little disposed to +doubt; especially if those portions of his works which only trench upon +the subject, and which bear the impression of fervor and earnestness, +may be admitted as evidence. But he was not a member of any particular +church."</p> + +<p>Medwin, who might be considered to be an authority,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159] </a></span> before his vanity +was wounded by the publication of writings wherein his good faith was +questioned, and it was shown that Lord Byron had no great esteem for his +talents, says,—</p> + +<p>"It is difficult to judge, from the contradictory nature of his +writings, what the religious opinions of Lord Byron were. But on the +whole, if he were occasionally skeptical, yet his wavering never +amounted to a disbelief in the divine Founder of Christianity. 'I always +took great delight,' observed he, 'in the English Cathedral service. It +can not fail to inspire every man who feels at all, with devotion. +Notwithstanding which, Christianity is not the best source of +inspiration for a poet. No poet should be tied down to a direct +profession of faith. Metaphysics open a vast field. Nature and +heterodoxy present to the poet's imagination fertile sources from which +Christianity forbids him to draw;' and he exemplified his meaning by a +review of the works of Tasso and Milton.</p> + +<p>"'Here is a little book somebody has sent me about Christianity," he +said to Shelley and me, 'that has made me very uncomfortable. The +reasoning seems to me very strong, the proofs are very staggering. I +don't think you can answer it, Shelley; at least, I am sure I can't, +and, what is more, I don't wish to do so.'"</p> + +<p>Speaking of Gibbon, he says,—"L—— B—— thought the question set at +rest in the 'History of the Decline and Fall,' but I am not so easily +convinced. It is not a matter of volition to unbelieve. Who likes to own +that he has been a fool all his life,—to unlearn all that he has been +taught in his youth? Or can think that some of the best men that ever +lived have been fools?" And again,—</p> + +<p>"You believe in Plato's three principles, why not in the Trinity? One is +not more mystical than the other. I don't know why I am considered an +enemy to religion, and an unbeliever. I disowned the other day that I +was of Shelley's school in metaphysics, though I admired his poetry."</p> + +<p>"Although," says Lord Harrington, "Byron was no Christian, he was a firm +believer in the existence of a God. It is, therefore, equally remote +from truth to represent him as either an atheist or a Christian. He was, +as he has often<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160] </a></span> told me, a confirmed Deist." Further on, the same +writer adds:—</p> + +<p>"Byron always maintained that he was a skeptic, but he was not so at +all. During a ride at Cephalonia, which lasted two or three hours almost +without a pause, he began to talk about 'Cain' and his religious +opinions, and he condemned all atheists, and maintained the principles +of Deism." Mr. Finlay, who used to see Lord Byron in Greece, says, in a +letter to his friend Lord Harrington:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron liked exceedingly to converse upon religious topics, but I +never once heard him openly profess to be a Deist."</p> + +<p>These quotations are sufficiently numerous, and all point to the same +conclusion, but I must quote the words of Gamba before I conclude this +subject. He was, as it is known, the great friend of Byron, and alas! +sacrificed his noble self, at the age of twenty-four, to the cause of +Greece. To Kennedy's inquiries respecting Lord Byron's religious +tendencies at Missolonghi, P. Gamba replied as follows:—</p> + +<p>"My belief is that his religious opinions were not fixed. I mean, that +he was not more inclined toward one than toward another of the Christian +sects; but that his feelings were thoroughly religious, and that he +entertained the highest respect for the doctrines of Christ, which he +considered to be the source of virtue and of goodness. As for the +incomprehensible mysteries of religion, his mind floated in doubts which +he wished most earnestly to dispel, as they oppressed him, and that is +why he never avoided a conversation on the subject, as you are well +aware.</p> + +<p>"I have often had an opportunity of observing him at times when the soul +involuntarily expresses its most sincere convictions; in the midst of +dangers, both at sea and on land; in the quiet contemplation of a calm +and beautiful night, in the deepest solitude, etc.; and I remarked that +his thoughts always were imbued with a religious sentiment. The first +time I ever had a conversation with him on that subject was at Ravenna, +my native place, a little more than four years ago. We were riding +together in a pine wood, on a beautiful spring day, and all was +conducive to religious meditation. 'How,' said he 'raising our eyes to +heaven, or directing them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161] </a></span> to the earth, can we doubt of the existence +of God? Or how, turning them inward, can we doubt that there is +something within us more noble and more durable than the clay of which +we are formed? Those who do not hear, or are unwilling to listen to +those feelings, must necessarily be of a vile nature.' I answered him +with all those reasons which the superficial philosophy of Helvetius, +his disciples and his masters, have taught. He replied with very strong +arguments and profound eloquence, and I perceived that obstinate +contradiction on this subject, forcing him to reason upon it, gave him +pain. This discourse made a deep impression on me.</p> + +<p>"Many times, and in various circumstances, I have heard him confirm the +same sentiments, and he always seemed to me to be deeply convinced of +their truth. Last year, at Genoa, when we were preparing for our journey +to Greece, he used to converse with me alone for two or three hours +every evening, seated on the terrace of his palace in Albano, in the +fine evenings of spring, whence there opened a magnificent view of that +superb city and the adjoining sea. Our conversation turned almost always +on Greece, for which we were so soon to depart, or on religious +subjects. In various ways I heard him confirm the sentiments which I +have already mentioned to you. 'Why, then,' said I to him, 'have you +earned for yourself the name of impious, and enemy of all religious +belief, from your writings?' He answered, 'They are not understood, and +are wrongly interpreted by the malevolent. My object is only to combat +hypocrisy, which I abhor in every thing, and particularly in religion, +and which now unfortunately appears to me to be prevalent, ... and for +this alone do those to whom you allude wish to render me odious, and +make me out to be an impious person, and a monster of incredulity.'</p> + +<p>"For the Bible he had always a particular respect. It was his custom to +have it always on his study table, particularly during these last +months; and you well know how familiar it was to him, since he sometimes +knew how to correct your inaccurate citations.</p> + +<p>"Fletcher may have informed you about his happy state of mind in his +last moments. He often repeated subjects<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162] </a></span> from the Testament, and when, +in his last moments, he had in vain attempted to make known his wishes +with respect to his daughter, and others most dear to him in life, and +when, on account of the wanderings of his mind, he could not succeed in +making himself understood, Fletcher answered him, 'Nothing is nearer my +heart than to execute your wishes; but, unfortunately, I have scarcely +been able to comprehend half of them.' 'Is it possible?' he replied. +'Alas! it is too late. How unfortunate! Not my will, but the will of God +be done.' There remained to him only a few intervals of reason and +interruptions of delirium, the effect of determination of blood to the +head.</p> + +<p>"He often expressed to me the contempt which he felt for those called +<i>esprits forts</i> (a set of ignorant egotists, incapable of any generous +action, and hypocrites themselves), in their affected contempt of every +faith.</p> + +<p>"He professed a complete toleration, and a particular respect for every +sincere conviction. He would have deemed it an unpardonable crime to +detach any one persuaded of the truth from his belief, although it might +be tinctured with absurdity, because he believed it could lead to no +other end than to render him an infidel."</p> + +<p>After so many proofs of Byron's religious tendencies, is it not right to +ask, What was that skepticism of which so much has been said that it has +been almost received as a fact by the world generally? Did he not +believe in the necessity of religion? In a God, Creator of all things? +In the spirituality, and therefore immortality, of the soul? In our +liberty of action, and our moral responsibility? We have seen what +others have said on each of these subjects; let us now see what he said +himself upon the subject. But some will object, "Are you going to judge +of his views from his poetry? Can one attach much importance to opinions +expressed in verse? Do not poets often say that which they do not think, +but which genius inspires them to write? Are such dictates to be +considered as their own views?" Such objections may be valid, and we +shall so far respect them, therefore, as to dismiss Lord Byron's poetry, +and treat only of that which he has written in prose: we will not +consider him when under the influence of inspiration and of genius,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163] </a></span> but +when given up entirely to the silent examination of his conscience. What +did his thorough good sense tell him about religion in general? The +following note, in which he repels the stupid and wicked attacks of +Southey, who called him a skeptic, will prove it:—</p> + +<p>"One mode of worship yields to another, but there never will be a +country without a worship of some sort. Some will instance France; but +the Parisians alone, and a fanatical faction of them, maintained for a +short time the absurd dogma of theophilanthropy. If the English Church +is upset, it will be by the hands of its own sectaries, not by those of +skeptics. People are too wise, too well informed, to submit to an +impious unbelief. There may exist a few speculators without faith; but +they are small in numbers, and their opinions, being without enthusiasm +or appeal to the passions, can not make proselytes unless they are +persecuted, that being the only means of augmenting any sects."</p> + +<p>"'I am always,' he writes in his memorandum, 'most religious upon a +sunshiny day, as if there were some association, some internal approach +to greater light and purity and the kindler of this dark lantern of our +existence.</p> + +<p>"'The night had also a religious influence, and even more so when I +viewed the moon and stars through Herschel's telescope, and saw that +they were worlds.'"</p> + +<p>And what thought Byron of the existence of God? "Supposing even," he +says, "that man existed before God, even his higher pre-Adamite +supposititious creation must have had an origin and a creator, for a +creation is a more natural imagination than a fortuitous concourse of +atoms; all things remount to a fountain, though they may flow to an +ocean.</p> + +<p>"If, according to some speculations, you could prove the world many +thousand years older than the Mosaic chronology, or if you could get rid +of Adam and Eve, and the apple, and serpent, still what is to be set up +in their stead? or how is the difficulty removed? Things must have had a +beginning, and what matters it when or how?"</p> + +<p>If Byron did not question the existence of God, did he doubt the +spirituality and immortality of the soul? Here are some of his +answers:—</p> + +<p>"What is poetry?" he asked himself in his memorandum,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164] </a></span> and he +replied—"The feeling of a former world and future." And further, in the +same memorandum:—</p> + +<p>"Of the immortality of the soul, it appears to me that there can be +little doubt, if we attend to the action of the mind for a moment: it is +in perpetual activity. I used to doubt it, but reflection has taught me +better. The stoics Epictetus and Aurelius call the present state 'a soul +which draws a carcass'—a heavy chain, to be sure, but all chains, being +material, may be shaken off. How far our future life will be individual, +or, rather, how far it will at all resemble our present existence, is +another question; but that the mind is eternal, seems as probable as +that the body is not so. Of course, I here venture upon the question +without recurring to revelation, which, however, is at least as rational +a solution of it as any other. A material resurrection seems strange and +even absurd, except for purposes of punishment: and all punishment which +is to revenge, rather than correct, must be morally wrong: and when the +world is at an end, what moral or warning purpose can eternal tortures +answer? Human passions have probably disfigured the Divine doctrines +here; but the whole thing is inscrutable."</p> + +<p>And again:—</p> + +<p>"I have often been inclined to materialism in philosophy; but could +never bear its introduction into Christianity, which appears to me +essentially founded upon the soul. For this reason, Priestley's +'Christian Materialism' always struck me as deadly. Believe the +resurrection of the body, if you will, but not without a soul. The deuce +is in it, if after having had a soul (as, surely, the mind, or whatever +you call it, is) in this world, we must part with it in the next, even +for an immortal materiality; and I own my partiality for spirit."</p> + +<p>It has already been seen that, in his early youth, he was intimately +convinced of the immortality of his soul, by the fact of the existence +of his conscience. But it is equally proved that, as his soul became +more perfect, and rose more and more toward all that is great and +virtuous, his conviction of the immortality of the soul became still +more certain.</p> + +<p>The beautiful words which he addressed to Mr. Parry, a few hours before +his agony, confirm our assertions:—</p> + +<p>"Eternity and space are before me; but on this subject,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165] </a></span> thank God, I am +happy and at ease. The thought of living eternally, of again reviving, +is a great pleasure. Christianity is the purest and most liberal +religion in the world; but the numerous teachers who are continually +worrying mankind with their denunciations and their doctrines, are the +greatest enemies of religion. I have read, with more attention than half +of them, the Book of Christianity, and I admire the liberal and truly +charitable principles which Christ has laid down. There are questions +connected with this subject, which none but Almighty God can solve. Time +and space, who can conceive? None but God: on Him I rely."</p> + +<p>If he neither questioned the existence of God nor the spirituality and +immortality of the soul, did he question our liberty of thought, and +hence our moral responsibility?</p> + +<p>To put such a question, is to misunderstand Byron completely. Who, more +than Byron, ever believed in our right of judgment, and proclaimed that +right more strenuously than he has, in prose and in verse? Let any one +who has read "Manfred," say whether a poet ever developed such Christian +and philosophical views with greater energy and power.</p> + +<p>Did Lord Byron really question, in his poems, the infinite goodness of +God, as he has been accused of doing? Did his doubts and perplexities of +mind, caused by the terrible knowledge of the existence of evil, ever go +beyond the limits of the doubts which beset the minds of intellectual +men, when the light of faith fails to aid them in their philosophical +researches after truth?</p> + +<p>When he published his drama, "Cain, a Mystery," he was attacked by +enemies in the most violent manner. They selected the arguments put into +the mouth of Lucifer, and their influence upon Cain, to prove that this +biblical poem was a blasphemous composition, and that its author was +consequently deserving of being outlawed, as having attempted to +question the supreme wisdom of God. But most certainly Lucifer speaks in +the poem as Lucifer should speak, unless, indeed, the Evil Spirit ought +to speak as a theologian, and the first assassin as a meek orthodox +Christian? Byron gave them each the language logically most suited to +their respective characters, as Milton did, without, however, incur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166] </a></span>ring +the accusation of impiety. It was argued that Byron ought, at least, to +have introduced some one charged with the defense of the right +doctrines. But was not the drama entitled a Mystery, and was not the +title to be justified, as it were? Could he have done otherwise, even if +he had wished it ever so much? What could Adam, or even God's angel, do +better than remain silent in presence of the mental agony of Cain, and +only advise his bowing to the incomprehensibility of the mystery? Again, +if discussion was fruitful of results with Abel, must it be the same +with Cain? Was Lord Byron to turn both these personages into +theologians, ready to discuss any and every metaphysical question, and +to explain the origin and effects of evil? Had they done so, it is not +very likely they would have succeeded in persuading Cain of the solidity +of their argument, or in dispelling the clouds which obscured his mind, +and both calm his despair and satisfy so inquisitive a nature, +influenced and mastered, as it was, by evil passions. If Lord Byron +thought he could explain the existence of evil, he would not have +entitled his poem "a Mystery." But, above all, Lord Byron did not wish +to outstep the limits of reason to prove still more how powerless is +reason, alone and unaided, in its endeavors to conciliate contradictory +attributes. The drama was called a Mystery, and Byron wished it to +remain such.</p> + +<p>Were some of his biographers right in asserting that he had adopted +Cuvier's system? But Cuvier never denied the existence of the Creator, +as Moore seems to believe. On the contrary, he endeavored to show, even +more forcibly, the admirable work of the Creation, in order to bring out +still more in relief the perfection of its Creator.</p> + +<p>In the end, however, Byron ceased to think the existence of evil to be +so great an injustice to the infinite goodness of God, and expressed in +his memorandum the opinion "that history and experience show that good +and evil are counterbalanced on earth."</p> + +<p>"Were I to begin life again," he said, in the same memorandum, "I don't +think I would change any thing in mine." A proof that, without +understanding why or wherefore, he felt our life on earth to be but the +beginning of one which is to be continued in another sphere, under the +rule of Him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167] </a></span> whose gentle hand can be traced in all things created. For +the same reason he was reconciled to the injustice of mankind, believing +this life to be a trial, and bearing it with noble courage and +fortitude. This mental resignation, however, did not prevent his +suffering bitterly in a moral sense. All pleasure became a pain to him +at the sight of the sufferings of others. He declared on one occasion, +at Cephalonia, that if every body was to be damned, and he alone to be +saved, he would prefer being damned with the rest. This excess of +generosity may have appeared eccentric, but can scarcely seem too +exaggerated to those who knew him. Certain it is, that to witness the +sufferings of others with resignation, appeared to him to be egotism, +and to evince a coldheartedness, which would have been unpardonable in +his eyes. Sometimes even the energy of his writings, dictated, as they +were, by his great generosity of heart, appeared as the revolt of a +noble nature against the miseries of humanity.</p> + +<p>In such a frame of mind was he when he wrote "Cain," at Ravenna, in the +midst of people who were for the most part unjustly proscribed, and in +the midst of sufferings which he always tried to alleviate.</p> + +<p>Did he deserve the appellation of skeptic, because he despised that vain +philosophy which believes it can explain all things, even God's nature +itself, by the sole force of reason? or because, while respecting the +dogmas proclaimed by our reason and our conscience, he preferred to +follow the principles of a philosophy that argues with diffidence, and +humbly owns its inability to explain all things, and which caused him to +exclaim in "Don Juan"—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"For me, I know naught; nothing I deny,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Admit, reject, contemn: and what know you,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Except, perhaps, that you were born to die?"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>But to whom were these lines addressed? To those metaphysicians, of +course, whom he would also have denominated "men who know nothing, but +who, among the truths which they ignore, ignore their own ignorance +most,"—to those arrogant minds who wish to fathom even the ways which +God has kept back from us, and who, in seeking to know the wherefore of +all things in creation, are forced to give the name of explanation to +mere comparisons.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168] </a></span></p> + +<p>Byron says, in "Don Juan,"—</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +"Explain me your explanation."<br /> +</p> + +<p>He addressed himself finally, to all hypocrites and intolerant men; +Byron has been called a skeptic, notwithstanding.</p> + +<p>That a sincere and orthodox Catholic, who holds that the negation of a +dogma constitutes skepticism, should have called Byron a skeptic because +he questioned the doctrine of eternal punishment, is not to be wondered +at; but what is matter of astonishment is, that the reproach was +addressed to him by the writer of "Faust," and by the writer of +"Elvire," and the "Meditations." Yet it is so; and if this psychological +problem is not yet solved, let others do it,—we can not.</p> + +<p>To sum up, we may declare, from what we have said, that as regards Lord +Byron there has been a confusion of words, and that his skepticism has +merely been a natural and inevitable situation in which certain minds +who, as it were, are the victims of their own contradictory thoughts, +are placed, notwithstanding their wish to believe. Faith, being a part +of poetical feeling, could not but form a part likewise of Byron's +nature, but there existed also in him a great tendency to weigh the +merits of the opinions of others, and consequently the desire not to +arrive too hastily at conclusions.</p> + +<p>This combination of instinctive faith and a philosophical mind could not +produce in him the belief in those things which did not appear to him to +have been first submitted to the test of argument, and proved to be just +by the convictions resulting from the test of reasoning to which they +had been subjected. It produced, on the contrary, a species of expectant +doubt, a state of mind awaiting some decisive explanation, to reject +error and embrace the truth. His skepticism, therefore, may be said to +have been the result of thought, not of passion.</p> + +<p>In religion, however, it must be allowed that his skepticism never went +so far as to cause him to deny its fundamental doctrines. These he +proclaimed from heartfelt convictions, and his modest, humble, and manly +skepticism may be said to have been that of great minds, and his +failings, also, theirs. Is a day said to be stormy because a few clouds +have obscured the rays of the sun?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169] </a></span></p> + +<p>Is it necessary to say any thing about what he doubted? In showing what +he believed, the exception will be found unnecessary. He believed in a +Creator, in a spiritual and consequently immortal soul, but which God +can reduce to nothing, as He created it out of nothing. He believed in +liberty of thought, in our responsibility, our privileges, our duties, +and especially in the obligation of practicing the great precept which +constitutes Christianity; namely, that of charity and devotion toward +our neighbor, even to the sacrifice of our existence for his sake. He +believed in every virtue, but his experience forbade his according faith +to appearances, and trusting in fine phrases. He often found it wise and +prudent to scrutinize the idol he was called upon to worship, but when +once that idol had borne the test of scrutiny no worship was so sincere.</p> + +<p>"Was he orthodox?" will again be asked. To such a question it may be +justly answered, that if he did not entertain for all the doctrines +revealed by the Scriptures that faith which he was called upon to +possess, it was not for want of desiring so powerful an auxiliary to his +reason. He felt that, however strong reason might be, it always retains +a little wavering and anxious character; and, though essentially +religious at heart, he could not master that blind faith required in +matters which baffle the efforts of reason to prove their truth +logically and definitively. This is to be accounted for by the conflict +of his conscience and his philosophical turn of mind. Conviction, for +him, was a difficult thing to attain. Hence for him the difficulty of +saying "I believe," and hence the accusation of skepticism to which he +became liable. He wanted proofs of a decisive character, and his doubts +belonged to that school which made Bacon confess that a philosopher who +can doubt, knows more than all the wise men together. Byron would never +have contested absolutely the truth of any mystery, but have merely +stated that, as long as the testimonies of its truth were hidden in +obscurity, such a mystery must be liable to be questioned. He was wont +to add, however, that the mysteries of religion did not appear to him +less comprehensible than those of science and of reason.</p> + +<p>As for miracles, how could he think them absurd and impossible, since he +admitted the omnipotence of God? His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170] </a></span> mind was far too just not to +understand that miracles surround us, even from the first origin of our +race. He often asked himself, whether the first man could ever have been +created a child? "Reason," says a great Christian philosopher, "does not +require the aid of the Book of Genesis to believe in that miracle."</p> + +<p>One evening at Pisa, in the drawing-room of the Countess G——, where +Byron was wont to spend all his evenings, a great discussion arose +respecting a certain miracle which was said to have taken place at +Lucca.</p> + +<p>The miracle had been accompanied by several rather ludicrous +circumstances, and of course laughter was not spared. Shelley, who never +lost sight of his philosopher, treated miracles as deplorable +superstitions. Lord Byron laughed at the absurdity of the history told, +without any malice however. Madame G—— alone did not laugh. "Do you, +then, believe in that miracle?" asked Byron. "I do not say I exactly +believe in that miracle," she replied; "but I believe in miracles, since +I believe in God and in His omnipotence; nor could I believe that God +can be deprived of His liberty, when I feel that I have mine. Were I no +longer to believe in miracles, it seems to me I should no longer believe +in God, and that I should lose my faith."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron stopped joking, and said—</p> + +<p>"Well, after all, the philosophy of common sense is the truest and the +best."</p> + +<p>The conversation continued, in the jesting tone in which it had begun, +and M. M——, an <i>esprit fort</i>, went so far as to condemn the +supernatural in the name of the general and permanent laws which govern +nature, and to look upon miracles as the legends of a by-gone age, and +as errors which affect the ignorant. From what had gone before, he +probably fancied that Byron was going to join issue with him. But there +was often a wide gulf between the intimate thoughts of Byron and his +expressions of them.</p> + +<p>"We allow ourselves too often," he said, "to give way to a jocular mood, +and to laugh at everything, probably because God has granted us this +faculty to compensate for the difficulty which we find in believing, in +the same manner as playthings are given to children. But I really do not +see why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171] </a></span> God should be obliged to preserve in the universe the same +order which He once established. To whom did He promise that He would +never change it, either wholly or in part? Who knows whether some day He +will not give the moon an oval or a square shape instead of a round +one?"</p> + +<p>This he said smiling, but added immediately after, in a serious tone:—</p> + +<p>"Those who believe in a God, Creator of the universe, can not refuse +their belief in the possibility of miracles, for they behold in God the +first of all miracles."</p> + +<p>Finally, Lord Byron determined himself the limits of what he deemed his +necessary belief; and remained throughout life a stanch supporter of +those opinions, but he never ceased to evince a tendency to steer clear +of intolerance, which according to him only brought one back to total +unbelief.</p> + +<p>Let us not omit to add that, as he grew older, he saw better the +arrogant weakness of those who screen themselves under the cover of +science, and recognized more clearly each day the hand of the Creator in +the works of nature.</p> + +<p>"Did Lord Byron pray?" is another objection which will be made.</p> + +<p>We have already seen what he thought of prayer; we have shown that his +poems often took the form of a prayer, and we have read with admiration +various passages containing some most sublime lines which completely +answer those who accused him of want of religion, while they exhibit the +expansion of his soul toward God.</p> + +<p>We also know with what feelings of respect he approached places devoted +to a religious life, and what charms he found in the ceremonies of the +Church. All this is proof enough, it would seem; but, in any case, we +must add that if his prayers were not those advised by Kennedy, they +were at least the prayers of a great soul which soars upward to bow +before its Creator. "Outward ceremonies," says Fénélon, "are only tokens +of that essential point, the religion of the soul, and Byron's prayer +was rather a thanksgiving than a request."—"In the eyes of God," says +some one, "a good action is worth more than a prayer."</p> + +<p>Such was his mode of communing with God even in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172] </a></span> early youth, but +especially in his last moments, which were so sublime. Can one doubt, +that at that solemn moment his greatest desire was to be allowed to +live? He had still to reap all the fruits of his sacrifices. His harvest +was only just beginning to ripen. By dint of heroism, he was at last +becoming known. He was young, scarcely thirty-six years of age, +handsome, rich. Rank and genius were his. He was beloved by many, +notwithstanding a host of jealous rivals; and yet, on the point of +losing all these advantages, what was his prayer? Was it egotistical or +presumptuous? was it to solicit a miracle in his favor? No, his last +words were those of noble resignation. "Let Thy holy will, my God, be +done, and not mine!" and then absorbed, as it were, in the infinity of +God's goodness, and, confiding entirely in God's mercy, he begged that +he might be left alone to sleep quietly and peacefully into eternity. On +the very day which brought to us the hope of our immortality, he would +awake in the bosom of God.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Sympathy.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> The Rev. Mr. Hodgson and the Rev. Mr. Harness.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Article on his Life in Italy and at Pisa.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>All Byron's biographers (at least all those who knew him) have borne +testimony to his great goodness, but they have not dwelt sufficiently +upon this principal feature in his character. Biographers generally wish +to produce an effect. But goodness is not a sufficiently noticeable +quality to be dilated upon; it would not repay ambition or curiosity. It +is a quality mostly attributed to the saints, and a biographer prefers +dilating upon the defects of his hero, upon some adventure or +scandal—means by which it is easy, with a spark of cleverness, to make +a monster of a saint: for, alas! the most rooted convictions are often +sacrificed for the sake of amusing a reader who is difficult to please, +and of satisfying an editor.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron's goodness, however, was so exceptional, and contrasted so +strongly with the qualities attributed to him by those who only knew him +by repute, that, in making an exception of him, astonishment, at the +very least, might have been the result. If we look at him +conscientiously in every act of his life, in his letters, and in his +poetry, we must sympathize particularly with him. We find that his +goodness shines as prominently as does his genius, and we feel that it +can bear any test at any epoch of, alas! his too short existence. As, +however, I do not purpose here to write his biography, I shall confine +myself merely to a few instances, and will give only a few proofs taken +from his early life. To no one can the words of Alfieri be better +applied than to Byron:—"He is the continuation of the child"—an idea +which has been expressed even more elegantly of late by Disraeli, in his +"Literary Characters:"—</p> + +<p>"As the sun is seen best at its rising and its setting, so men's native +dispositions are clearly perceived while they are children, and when +they are dying."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174] </a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><b>LORD BYRON'S CHILDHOOD.</b></p> + +<p>Of those who have written Byron's life, the best disposed among them +have not sufficiently noticed his admirable perfection of character when +a child, as revealed to us by sundry anecdotes and by his own poems, +entitled "Hours of Idleness:"—</p> + +<p>"There was in his disposition," says Moore, "as appears from the +concurrent testimony of nurses, tutors, and all who were employed about +him, a mixture of affectionate sweetness and playfulness, by which it +was impossible not to be attached, and which rendered him then, as in +his riper years, easily manageable by those who loved and understood him +sufficiently to be at once gentle and firm enough for the task. The +female attendant whom he had taken the most fancy to was the youngest of +two sisters, named Mary Gray, and she had succeeded in gaining an +influence over his mind against which he very rarely rebelled."</p> + +<p>By an accident which occurred at the time of his birth one of his feet +was twisted out of its natural position, and, to restore the limb to +shape, expedients were used under the direction of the celebrated Dr. +Hunter. Mary Gray, to whom fell the task of putting on the bandages at +bed-time, used to sing him to sleep, or tell him Scotch ballads and +legends, in which he delighted, or teach him psalms, and thus lighten +his pain. Mary Gray was a very pious woman, and she unquestionably +inspired Byron with that love of the Scriptures which he preserved to +his last day. She only parted from Byron when he was placed at school at +Dulwich, in 1800. The child loved her as she loved him. He gave her his +watch, and, later, sent her his portrait. Both these treasures were +given to Dr. Ewing (an enthusiast of Byron, who had collected the dying +words of Mary Gray, which were all for the child she had nursed), by her +grateful husband.</p> + +<p>The same gratitude was shown by Byron to Mary Gray's sister, who had +been his first nursery governess. He wrote to her after he had left +Scotland, to ask news of her, and to announce with delight that he could +now put on an ordinary shoe—an event, he said, which he had greatly +looked forward to, and which he was sure it would give her pleasure to +hear.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175] </a></span></p> + +<p>Before going to school at Aberdeen, Byron had two tutors, Ross and +Paterson, both young, intelligent, and amiable ecclesiastics, for whom +he always entertained a pleasing and affectionate remembrance.</p> + +<p>At seven years of age he went to the Aberdeen Grammar School, and the +general impression which he left there, as evinced by the testimony of +several of his colleagues who are still living, was, says Moore, "that +he was quick, courageous, passionate, to a remarkable degree venturous +and fearless, but affectionate and companionable.</p> + +<p>"He was most anxious to distinguish himself among his school-fellows by +prowess in all sports and exercises, but, though quick when he could be +persuaded to attend, he was in general very low in his class, nor seemed +ambitious of being promoted higher."</p> + +<p>The anecdotes told of him at this time all prove his fine nature, and +show the goodness and greatness of soul which characterized him up to +his last day.</p> + +<p>All the qualities which are to shine in the man will be found already +marked in the child. On one occasion he was taken to see a piece at the +Edinburgh theatre, in which one of the actors pretends that the moon is +the sun. The child, notwithstanding his timidity, was shocked by this +insult to his understanding, rose from his seat, and cried out, "I +assure you, my dear sir, that it is the moon." Here, again, we can trace +that love of truth which in after life made him so courageous in its +proclamation at any cost.</p> + +<p>When, at Aberdeen, he was, on one occasion, styled Dominus Byron in the +school-room, by way of announcing to him his accession to the title, the +child began to cry. Can not these tears be explained by the mixture of +pleasure and pain which he must have felt at that moment—pleasure at +becoming a peer, and distress at not being able to share this pleasure +with his comrades? Are they not a prelude of the sacrifice of himself +which he afterward made by actually placing himself in the wrong, in +order that at the time of his greatest triumph his rivals might not be +too jealous of him?</p> + +<p>On one occasion, as he was riding with a friend, they arrived at the +bridge of Balgounie, on the river Dee, and, remembering suddenly the old +ballad which threatens with death the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176] </a></span> man who passes the bridge first +on a pony, Byron stopped his comrade, and requested to be allowed to +pass first; because if the ballad said true, and that one of them must +die, it was better, said he, that it should be him, rather than his +friend, because he had only a mother to mourn his loss, whereas his +friend had a father and a mother, and the pain of his death would fall +upon two persons instead of upon one. Another illustration of that +heroic generosity of character of which Byron's life offers so many +instances.</p> + +<p>On another occasion he saw a poor woman coming out of a bookseller's +shop, distressed and mortified at not having enough to buy herself the +Bible she wanted. The child ran after her, brought her back, made her a +present of the desired book, and, in doing so, obeyed that same craving +of the heart to do good which placed him all his life at the service of +others. These instances will suffice at present.</p> + +<p>On his accession to the title, as heir to his great uncle, he left +Scotland, and was taken to see Newstead Abbey, his future residence. He +spent the winter at Nottingham, the most important of the towns round +Newstead. His mother, who was blindly fond of him, could not bear to see +any physical defect in him, however slight. She confided him to a quack +doctor named Lavender, who promised to cure him, while his studies were +continued under the direction of a Mr. Rogers. The treatment which he +had to undergo being both painful and tedious, furnishes us with the +opportunity of admiring his strength of mind. Mr. Rogers, who had +conceived a great liking for the child, noticed on one occasion that he +was suffering. "Pray do not notice it," said Byron, "you will see that I +shall behave in such a way that you will not perceive it." +Notwithstanding his own want of skill, Mr. Lavender might, perhaps, have +cured the child. But Byron, who had no faith in him, always found fault +with every thing he did, and played tricks upon him.</p> + +<p>At last his mother agreed with Lord Carlisle, who was his guardian, to +take him to London, to be better educated and taken care of. He was sent +to Mr. Glennie's school at Dulwich, and his foot was to be attended to +by the famous Dr. Baillie. For the first time, then, did Byron leave the +home where he had been rather spoiled than neglected.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177] </a></span></p> + +<p>Dr. Glennie at once took a great fancy to him, made him sleep in his own +study, and watched with an equal care the progress of his studies and +the cure of his foot. This latter task was no easy one, owing to the +restlessness of the child, who would join in all the gymnastic exercises +suitable to his age, whereas absolute repose was prescribed for him. Dr. +Glennie says, however, that, once back in the study-room, Byron's +docility was equal to his vivacity. He had been instructed according to +the mode of teaching adopted at Aberdeen, and had to retrace his steps, +owing to the difference of teaching prescribed in English schools.</p> + +<p>"I found him enter upon his tasks," says Dr. Glennie, "with alacrity and +success. He was playful, good-humored, and beloved by his companions. +His reading in history and poetry was far beyond the usual standard of +his age, and in my study he found, among other works, a set of our +poets—from Chaucer to Churchill—which, I am almost tempted to say, he +had more than once perused from beginning to end. He showed at this age +an intimate acquaintance with the historical parts of the Holy +Scriptures, upon which he seemed delighted to converse with me, and +reasoned upon the facts contained in the sacred volume with every +appearance of belief in the divine truths which they unfold. That the +impressions thus imbibed in his boyhood had, notwithstanding the +irregularities of his after life, sunk deep into his mind, will appear, +I think, to every impartial reader of his works, and I never have been +able to divest myself of the persuasion, that he must have found it +difficult to violate the better principles early instilled into him."</p> + +<p>He remained two years with Dr. Glennie, during which time he does not +appear to have made great progress in his studies, owing to the too +frequent amusements procured for him by his over-fond mother. But though +Mr. and Mrs. Glennie saw the child very seldom after he left them, they +always remained much attached to him, and followed his career with much +interest, owing to the fine qualities which they had loved and admired +in him as a child.</p> + +<p>At thirteen years old he went to Harrow, the head master of which school +was Dr. Drury, who at once conceived a great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178] </a></span> fancy for the boy, and +remained attached to him all his life. He thus expresses himself with +regard to Byron:—</p> + +<p>"A degree of shyness hung about him for some time. His manner and temper +soon convinced me that he might be led by a silken string, rather than +by a cable. On that principle I acted."</p> + +<p>To Lord Carlisle's inquiries about Byron, Drury replied:—"He has +talents, my lord, which will add lustre to his rank."</p> + +<p>After having been his master he remained his friend, and shortly before +his death, Byron declared that, of all the masters and friends he ever +had, the best was Dr. Drury, for whom he should entertain as much regard +as he would have done for his own father.</p> + +<p>Now that we have passed in review both his tutors and his servants; that +we have seen them all, without exception, beloved by the child as they +loved him, we must take a glance at his college life, and see how he +came to possess such charms of manner and of character. In the youth +will appear those great qualities which began in the child, and will +shine in the man. On one occasion he prevented his comrades from setting +fire to the school, by appealing to their filial love, and pointing to +the names of their parents on the walls which they wished to destroy. He +thus saved the school.</p> + +<p>"When Lord Byron and Mr. Peel were at Harrow together," says Moore, "a +tyrant some few years older, whose name was N——, claimed a right to +fag little Peel, which claim Peel resisted. His resistance was vain, and +N—— not only subdued him, but determined also to punish the refractory +slave by inflicting a bastinado on the inner fleshy side of the boy's +right arm. While the stripes were succeeding each other, and poor Peel +was writhing under them, Byron saw and felt for the misery of his +friend; and, although he knew he was not strong enough to fight N—— +with any hope of success, and that it was dangerous even to approach +him, he advanced to the scene of action, and, with a flush of rage, +tears in his eyes, and a voice trembling between terror and indignation, +asked very humbly if N—— would be pleased to tell him how many stripes +he meant to inflict? 'Why,' returned the executioner, 'you little +rascal, what is that to you?' 'Because, if you please,' said Byron, +holding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179] </a></span> out his arm, 'I would take half.' There is a mixture of +simplicity and magnanimity in this little trait which is truly heroic."</p> + +<p>At fifteen Byron was still at Harrow. A certain Mr. Peel ordered his +fag, Lord Gort, to make him some toast for tea. The little fag did not +do it well, and as a punishment had a red-hot iron applied to the palm +of his hand. The child cried, and the masters requested that he should +name the author of such cruelty. He did not, however, as the expulsion +of Peel might have resulted from the avowal.</p> + +<p>Byron, highly pleased with this courageous act, went up to Lord Gort and +said, "You are a brave fellow, and, if you like it, I shall take you as +my fag, and you will not have to suffer any more ill-treatment."</p> + +<p>"I became his fag," says Lord Gort, "and was very fortunate in obtaining +so good a master, and one who constantly gave me presents as he did.</p> + +<p>"When he gave dinners he always recommended his fag to partake of all +the delicacies which he had ordered for his guests."</p> + +<p>At all times Byron's greatest pleasure was to make people happy, and his +conduct to his fags showed the kind heart with which through life he +acted toward his subordinates.</p> + +<p>His favorite fag at Harrow was the Duke of Dorset. How much he loved him +can be seen in the beautiful lines which he addressed to the duke on +leaving Harrow, and which reveal his noble heart:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 3em;"><b>To the Duke of Dorset.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd,</span><br /> +Exploring every path of Ida's glade;<br /> +Whom still affection taught me to defend,<br /> +And made me less a tyrant than a friend,<br /> +Though the harsh custom of our youthful band<br /> +Bade <i>thee</i> obey, and gave <i>me</i> to command;<br /> +Thee, on whose head a few short years will shower<br /> +The gift of riches and the pride of power;<br /> +E'en now a name illustrious is thine own,<br /> +Renown'd in rank, nor far beneath the throne.<br /> +Yet, Dorset, let not this seduce thy soul<br /> +To shun fair science, or evade control,<br /> +Though passive tutors, fearful to dispraise<br /> +The titled child, whose future breath may raise,<br /> +View ducal errors with indulgent eyes,<br /> +And wink at faults they tremble to chastise.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180] </a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When youthful parasites, who bend the knee</span><br /> +To wealth, their golden idol, not to thee—<br /> +And even in simple boyhood's opening dawn<br /> +Some slaves are found to flatter and to fawn—<br /> +When those declare, "that pomp alone should wait<br /> +On one by birth predestined to be great;<br /> +That books were only meant for drudging fools,<br /> +That gallant spirits scorn the common rules;"<br /> +Believe them not;—they point the path to shame,<br /> +And seek to blast the honors of thy name.<br /> +Turn to the few in Ida's early throng,<br /> +Whose souls disdain not to condemn the wrong;<br /> +Or if, amid the comrades of thy youth,<br /> +None dare to raise the sterner voice of truth,<br /> +Ask thine own heart; 'twill bid thee, boy, forbear;<br /> +For <i>well</i> I know that virtue lingers there.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day,</span><br /> +But now new scenes invite me far away;<br /> +Yes! I have mark'd within that generous mind<br /> +A soul, if well matured, to bless mankind.<br /> +Ah! though myself by nature haughty, wild,<br /> +Whom Indiscretion hail'd her favorite child;<br /> +Though every error stamps me for her own,<br /> +And dooms my fall, I fain would fall alone;<br /> +Though my proud heart no precept now can tame,<br /> +I love the virtues which I can not claim.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis not enough, with other sons of power,</span><br /> +To gleam the lambent meteor of an hour;<br /> +To swell some peerage page in feeble pride,<br /> +With long-drawn names that grace no page beside;<br /> +Then share with titled crowds the common lot—<br /> +In life just gazed at, in the grave forgot;<br /> +While naught divides thee from the vulgar dead,<br /> +Except the dull cold stone that hides thy head,<br /> +The mouldering 'scutcheon, or the herald's roll,<br /> +That well-emblazon'd but neglected scroll,<br /> +Where lords, unhonor'd, in the tomb may find<br /> +One spot, to leave a worthless name behind.<br /> +There sleep, unnoticed as the gloomy vaults<br /> +That veil their dust, their follies, and their faults,<br /> +A race, with old armorial lists o'erspread,<br /> +In records destined never to be read.<br /> +Fain would I view thee, with prophetic eyes,<br /> +Exalted more among the good and wise,<br /> +A glorious and a long career pursue,<br /> +As first in rank, the first in talent too:<br /> +Spurn every vice, each little meanness shun;<br /> +Not Fortune's minion, but her noblest son.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Turn to the annals of a former day;</span><br /> +Bright are the deeds thine earlier sires display.<br /> +One, though a courtier, lived a man of worth,<br /> +And call'd, proud boast! the British drama forth.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181] </a></span>Another view, not less renown'd for wit;<br /> +Alike for courts, and camps, or senates fit;<br /> +Bold in the field, and favor'd by the Nine;<br /> +In every splendid part ordain'd to shine;<br /> +Far, far distinguish'd from the glittering throng,<br /> +The pride of princes, and the boast of song.<br /> +Such were thy fathers, thus preserve their name;<br /> +Not heir to titles only, but to fame.<br /> +The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close,<br /> +To me, this little scene of joys and woes;<br /> +Each knell of Time now warns me to resign<br /> +Shades where Hope, Peace, and Friendship all were mine:<br /> +Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue,<br /> +And gild their pinions as the moments flew;<br /> +Peace, that reflection never frown'd away,<br /> +By dreams of ill to cloud some future day;<br /> +Friendship, whose truth let childhood only tell;<br /> +Alas! they love not long, who love so well.<br /> +To these adieu! nor let me linger o'er<br /> +Scenes hail'd, as exiles hail their native shore,<br /> +Receding slowly through the dark-blue deep,<br /> +Beheld by eyes that mourn, yet can not weep.<br /> +Dorset, farewell! I will not ask one part<br /> +Of sad remembrance in so young a heart;<br /> +The coming morrow from thy youthful mind<br /> +Will sweep my name, nor leave a trace behind.<br /> +And yet, perhaps, in some maturer year,<br /> +Since chance has thrown us in the self-same sphere,<br /> +Since the same Senate, nay, the same debate,<br /> +May one day claim our suffrage for the State,<br /> +We hence may meet, and pass each other by,<br /> +With faint regard, or cold and distant eye.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For me, in future, neither friend nor foe,</span><br /> +A stranger to thyself, thy weal or woe,<br /> +With thee no more again I hope to trace<br /> +The recollection of our early race;<br /> +No more, as once, in social hours rejoice,<br /> +Or hear, unless in crowds, thy well-known voice:<br /> +Still, if the wishes of a heart untaught<br /> +To veil those feelings which perchance it ought,<br /> +If these—but let me cease the lengthen'd strain,—<br /> +Oh! if these wishes are not breathed in vain,<br /> +The guardian seraph who directs thy fate<br /> +Will leave thee glorious, as he found thee great.<br /> +</div> + +<p>It was especially at Harrow that Byron contracted those friendships +which were like cravings of his heart, and which, although partaking of +a passionate character, had nevertheless none of the instability which +is the characteristic of passion.</p> + +<p>The death of some of his friends, and the coldness of others, caused him +the greatest grief, and broke up the illusions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182] </a></span> of youth, exchanging +them for that misanthropy discernible in some of his poems, though +contrary to his real character.</p> + +<p>For those, on the other hand, who were spared, and remained faithful to +him, Byron preserved through life the warmest affection and the +tenderest regard; the principal feature of his nature being the +unchanging character of his sentiments.</p> + +<p>Although he showed at an early age his disposition to a poetical turn of +mind, by the force of his feelings and by his meditative wanderings—in +Scotland among the mountains and on the sea-shore at Cheltenham;—by his +rapturous admiration of the setting sun, as well as by the delight which +he took in the legends told him by his nurses, and the emotions which he +experienced to a degree which made him lose all appetite, all rest, and +all peace of mind; yet no one would have believed at that time that a +gigantic poetical genius lay dormant in so active a nature. Soon, +however, did his soul light up his intelligence, and obliged him to have +recourse to his pen to pour out his feelings. From that moment his +genius spread its roots in his heart, and Harrow became his paradise +owing to the affection which he met with there.</p> + +<p>It was at Harrow that he wrote, between his fourteenth and eighteenth +year, the "Hours of Idleness, by a Minor," of which he had printed at +the request of his friends, a few copies for private circulation only. +These modest poems did not, however, escape the brutal attacks of +critics. Mackenzie, however, a man of talent himself, soon discovered +that at the bottom of these poems there lay the roots of a great +poetical genius. The "Hours of Idleness" are a treasure of intellectual +and psychological gleanings. They showed man as God created him, and +before his noble soul, depressed by the insolence of his enemies and the +troubles of life, endeavored to escape the eyes of the world, or at +least of those who could not or would not understand him.</p> + +<p>The noblest instincts of human nature shine so conspicuously in the +pages of this little volume, that we thank God that he created such a +noble mind, while we feel indignant toward those who could not +appreciate it. But to understand him better he must reveal himself, and +we shall therefore quote a few of his own sayings as a boy. His first +grief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183] </a></span> brought forth his first poem. A young cousin of his died, and of +her death he spoke to this effect in his memorandum:—</p> + +<p>"My first recourse to poetry was due to my passion for my cousin +Margaret Parker. She was, without doubt, one of the most beautiful and +ethereal beings I ever knew. I have forgotten the lines, but never shall +I forget her. I was twelve years of age, and she was older than myself +by nearly a year. I loved her so passionately, that I could neither +sleep, nor get rest, or eat when thinking of her. She died of +consumption, and it was at Harrow that I heard both of her illness and +of her death."</p> + +<p>Then it was that Byron wrote his first elegy, which he characterizes as +"very dull;" but it is interesting as his first poetical essay, and as +the first cry of pain uttered by a child who vents his grief in verse, +and reveals in it the goodness of his heart and the power of his great +mind. On a calm and dark night he goes to her tomb and strews it with +flowers; then, speaking of her virtues, exclaims:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"But wherefore weep? Her matchless spirit soars</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Beyond where splendid shines the orb of day;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And weeping angels lead her to those bowers</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Where endless pleasures virtue's deeds repay.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And, madly, godlike Providence accuse?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah, no! far fly from me attempts so vain;—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Still they call forth my warm affection's tear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Still in my heart retain their wonted place."</span> 1802.<br /> +</p> + +<p>So beautiful a mind, and one so little understood, reveals itself more +and more in each poem of this first collection; and on this account, +rather than because of its poetical merits, are the "Hours of Idleness" +interesting to the psychological biographer of Byron. "Whoever," says +Sainte-Beuve, "has not watched a youthful talent at its outset, will +never form for himself a perfect and really true appreciation of it."</p> + +<p>Moore adds: "It is but justice to remark that the early verses of Lord +Byron give but little promise of those dazzling miracles of poesy with +which he afterward astonished and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184] </a></span> enchanted the world, however +distinguished they are by tenderness and grace.</p> + +<p>"There is, indeed, one point of view in which these productions are +deeply and intrinsically interesting; as faithful reflections of his +character at that period of life, they enable us to judge of what he was +before any influences were brought to bear upon him, and so in them we +find him pictured exactly such as each anecdote of his boyish days +exhibits him—proud, daring, and passionate—resentful of slight or +injustice, but still more so in the cause of others than in his own; and +yet, with all this vehemence, docile and placable at the least touch of +a hand authorized by love to guide him. The affectionateness, indeed, of +his disposition, traceable as it is through every page of this volume, +is yet but faintly done justice to even by himself; his whole youth +being from earliest childhood a series of the most passionate +attachments, of those overflowings of the soul, both in friendship and +love, which are still more rarely responded to than felt, and which, +when checked or sent back upon the heart, are sure to turn into +bitterness."</p> + +<p>While his soul expanded with the first rays of love which dawned upon +it, friendship too began to assert its influence over him. But in +continuing to observe in him the effects of incipient love, let us +remark that, while such precocious impressions are only with others the +natural development of physical instincts, they were, in Byron, also, +the expression of a soul that expands, of an amiability, of a tenderness +ever on the increase. Though sensible to physical beauty as he always +was through life, his principal attraction, however, was in that beauty +which expresses the beauty of the soul, without which condition no +physical perfection commanded his attention. We have seen what an +ethereal creature Miss Margaret Parker was. Miss Chaworth succeeded her +in Byron's affections, and was his second, if not third love if we +notice his youthful passion at nine years of age for Mary Duff. But his +third love was the occasion of great pain to him. Miss Chaworth was +heiress to the grounds and property of Annesley, which were in the +immediate neighborhood of Newstead. Notwithstanding, however, the enmity +which had existed between the two families for a long time, on account +of a duel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185] </a></span> which had resulted in the death of Miss Chaworth's +grandfather, Byron was received most cordially at Annesley. Mrs. +Chaworth thought that a marriage between her daughter and Byron might +perhaps some day efface the memory of the feud that had existed between +their respective families. Byron therefore found his school-boy advances +encouraged by both mother and daughter, and his imagination naturally +was kindled. The result was that Byron fell desperately in love with +Miss Chaworth; but he was only fifteen years old, and yet an awkward +schoolboy, with none of that splendid and attractive beauty for which he +was afterward distinguished. Miss Chaworth was three years older, and +unfortunately her heart was already engaged to the man who, to her +misfortune, she married the year after. She therefore looked upon Byron +as a mere child, as a younger brother, and his love almost amused her. +She, however, not only gave him a ring, her portrait, and some of her +hair, but actually carried on a secret correspondence with him. These +were the faults for which she afterward had to suffer so bitterly. Such +a union, however, with so great a difference of age, would not have been +natural. It could only be a dream; but I shall speak elsewhere<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> of +the nature of this attachment, which had its effect upon Byron, in order +to show the beauty of his soul under another aspect. I can only add here +that he had attributed every virtue to this girl whom he afterward +styled frivolous and deceitful.</p> + +<p>On his return to Harrow this love and his passionate friendships divided +his heart. But when the following vacation came, his dream vanished. +Miss Chaworth was engaged to another, and on his return to Harrow he +vainly tried to forget her who had deceived and wounded him. Like other +young men, he devoted his time during the Harrow or Cambridge vacations +to paying his respects and offering his regards to numerous belles, +whose names appear variously in his poems as Emma, Caroline, Helen, and +Mary. Moore believes them to have been imaginary loves. A slight +acquaintance with the liberty enjoyed by young men at English +universities would lead one to believe these loves to have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186] </a></span> any +thing but unreal. This can be the more readily believed, as Byron always +sought in reality the objects which he afterward idealized. He always +required some earthly support, though the slightest, as Moore observes, +in speaking of the charming lines with which his love for Miss Chaworth +inspired him, at the time when the recollection of it made him compare +his misfortune in marrying Miss Milbank, with the happier lot which +might have been his had he married Miss Chaworth. Whether these loves +were real or not, however, it must be borne in mind that Byron deemed +all physical beauty to be nothing if unaccompanied by moral beauty. +Thus, in speaking of a vain young girl, he exclaims:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"One who is thus from nature vain,<br /> +I pity, but I can not love."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And to Miss N. N——, who was exquisitely beautiful, but in whose eyes +earthly passion shone too powerfully, he says:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Oh, did those eyes, instead of fire,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With bright but mild affection shine,</span><br /> +Though they might kindle less desire,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Love, more than mortal, would be thine.</span><br /> +For thou art form'd so heavenly fair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Howe'er those orbs may wildly beam,</span><br /> +We must admire, but still despair;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That fatal glance forbids esteem."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>In a letter to Miss Pigott, which he wrote from Cambridge, he says:—</p> + +<p>"Saw a girl at St. Mary's the image of Ann——; thought it was her—all +in the wrong—the lady stared, so did I—I blushed, so did <i>not</i> the +lady—sad thing—wish women had more modesty."</p> + +<p>On awaking from his dream, and on finding that the jewels with which he +had believed Mary's nature to be adorned were of his own creation, he +sought his consolation in friendship. His heart, which was essentially a +loving one, could not be consoled except by love, and Harrow, to use his +own expressions, became a paradise to him. In tracing the picture of +Tasso's infancy he has drawn a picture of himself:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 6em">"From my very birth</span><br /> +My soul was drunk with love, which did pervade<br /> +And mingle with whate'er I saw on earth<br /> +Of objects all inanimate I made<br /> +Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187] </a></span>And rocks, whereby they grew, a paradise<br /> +Where I did lay me down within the shade<br /> +Of waving trees, and dreamed uncounted hours,<br /> +Though I was chid for wandering...."<br /> +</div> + +<p>This sentiment of friendship, which is always more powerful in England +than on the Continent, owing to the system of education which takes +children away from their parents at an early age, was keenly developed +in Byron, whose affectionate disposition wanted something to make up for +the privation of a father's and a brother's love. In his pure and +passionate heart friendship and love became mixed: his love partook of +the purity of friendship, and his friendships of all the ardor of love.</p> + +<p>But to return to his fourteenth year. While expressing in verse his love +for his cousin, he expressed at the same time in poetry the strong +friendship he had conceived, even before going to Harrow, for a boy who +had been his companion.</p> + +<p>This boy, who had a most amiable, good, and virtuous disposition, was +the son of one of his tenants at Newstead. Aristocratic prejudices ran +high in England, and this friendship of Byron for a commoner was sure to +call forth the raillery of some of his companions. Notwithstanding this, +Byron, at twelve years and a half old, replied in these terms to the +mockery of others:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>To E——.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +Let Folly smile to view the names<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of thee and me in friendship twined;</span><br /> +Yet Virtue will have greater claims<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To love, than rank with vice combined.</span><br /> +<br /> +And though unequal is thy fate,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since title deck'd my higher birth!</span><br /> +Yet envy not this gaudy state;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thine is the pride of modest worth.</span><br /> +<br /> +Our souls at least congenial meet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor can thy lot my rank disgrace;</span><br /> +Our intercourse is not less sweet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since worth of rank supplies the place.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>What noble views in a child of twelve! How well one feels that, whatever +may be his fate, such a nature will never lose its independence, nor +allow prejudice to carry it beyond the limits of honor and of justice, +and that its device will always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188] </a></span> be, "<i>Fais ce que dois, advienne que +pourra.</i>" "I do what I ought, come what may."</p> + +<p>At thirteen he wrote some lines in which he seemed to have a kind of +presentiment of the glory that awaited him, and, at any rate, in which +he displayed his resolve to deserve it:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>A Fragment.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +When to their airy hall, my fathers' voice<br /> +Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;<br /> +When, poised upon the gale, my form shall ride,<br /> +Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side;<br /> +Oh! may my shade behold no sculptured urns<br /> +To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!<br /> +No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone;<br /> +My epitaph shall be my name alone:<br /> +If <i>that</i> with honor fail to crown my clay,<br /> +Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay!<br /> +<i>That</i>, only <i>that</i>, shall single out the spot;<br /> +By that remember'd, or with that forgot.<br /> +</div> + +<p>Again, at thirteen, a visit to Newstead inspired him with the following +beautiful lines:—</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 6em;"><b>On Leaving Newstead Abbey.</b></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest +from thy tower to-day; yet a few years, and the blast of the desert +comes, it howls in thy empty court."—<span class="smcap">Ossian.</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou, the hall of my fathers, art gone to decay:</span><br /> +In thy once smiling garden, the hemlock and thistle<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have choked up the rose which late bloom'd in the way.</span><br /> +<br /> +Of the mail-cover'd Barons, who proudly to battle<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain,</span><br /> +The escutcheon and shield, which with every blast rattle,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are the only sad vestiges now that remain.</span><br /> +<br /> +No more doth old Robert, with harp-stringing numbers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Raise a flame in the breast for the war-laurell'd wreath;</span><br /> +Near Askalon's towers John of Horistan slumbers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unnerved is the hand of his minstrel by death.</span><br /> +<br /> +Paul and Hubert, too, sleep in the valley of Cressy;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the safety of Edward and England they fell:</span><br /> +My fathers! the tears of your country redress ye;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How you fought, how you died, still her annals can tell.</span><br /> +<br /> +On Marston, with Rupert, 'gainst traitors contending,<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Four brothers enrich'd with their blood the bleak field;</span><br /> +For the rights of a monarch their country defending,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till death their attachment to royalty seal'd.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189] </a></span><br /> +Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant departing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu!</span><br /> +Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">New courage, he'll think upon glory and you.</span><br /> +<br /> +Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret;</span><br /> +Far distant he goes, with the same emulation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget.</span><br /> +<br /> +That fame and that memory still will he cherish;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown:</span><br /> +Like you will he live, or like you will he perish:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own!</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>When only fourteen his tenant friend dies, and Byron wrote his epitaph, +in which, even at that early age (thirteen and a half), he particularly +mentions his friend's virtues:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>Epitaph on a Friend.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +"Ἀστηρ πριν μεν έλαμπες +ενι ζωοισιν έῷος."—<span class="smcap">Laertius.</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh, Friend! forever loved, forever dear!<br /> +What fruitless tears have bathed thy honor'd bier!<br /> +What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath,<br /> +While thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!<br /> +Could tears retard the tyrant in his course;<br /> +Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force;<br /> +Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,<br /> +Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;<br /> +Thou still hadst lived to bless my aching sight,<br /> +Thy comrade's honor and thy friend's delight.<br /> +If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh<br /> +The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie,<br /> +Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,<br /> +A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art.<br /> +No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,<br /> +But living statues there are seen to weep;<br /> +Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb,<br /> +Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom.<br /> +What though thy sire lament his failing line,<br /> +A father's sorrows can not equal mine!<br /> +Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,<br /> +Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here:<br /> +But who with me shall hold thy former place?<br /> +Thine image, what new friendship can efface?<br /> +Ah, none!—a father's tears will cease to flow,<br /> +Time will assuage an infant brother's woe;<br /> +To all, save one, is consolation known,<br /> +While solitary friendship sighs alone.<br /> +</div> + +<p>Other friends succeeded his earliest one and consoled him for his loss. +At Harrow, those he loved best were Wingfield, Tattersall, Clare, +Delaware, and Long.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190] </a></span></p> + +<p>His great heart sought to express in verse what it felt for each of +them. But it is observable that what touched him most was the excellence +of the qualities both of the mind and soul of those he loved. To prove +this I shall quote in part a poem which he wrote shortly after leaving +Harrow for Cambridge, entitled "Childish Recollections." After giving a +picture of his life at Harrow in the midst of his companions, and after +describing very freshly and vividly the scene when he was chosen Captain +of the School, he exclaims:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Dear honest race! though now we meet no more,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">One last long look on what we were before—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Our first kind greetings, and our last adieu—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Drew tears from eyes unused to weep with you.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Through splendid circles, fashion's gaudy world,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where folly's glaring standard waves unfurl'd,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I plunged to drown in noise my fond regret,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And all I sought or hoped was to forget.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Vain wish! if chance some well-remember'd face,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Some old companion of my early race,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Advanced to claim his friend with honest joy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">My eyes, my heart, proclaim'd me still a boy;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The glittering scene, the fluttering groups around,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Were quite forgotten when my friend was found;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The smiles of beauty—(for, alas! I've known</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">What 'tis to bend before Love's mighty throne)—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The smiles of beauty, though those smiles were dear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Could hardly charm me, when that friend was near;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">My thoughts bewilder'd in the fond surprise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The woods of Ida danced before my eyes;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I saw the sprightly wand'rers pour along,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I saw and join'd again the joyous throng;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Panting, again I traced her lofty grove,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And friendship's feelings triumph'd over love."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>After deploring his fate:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Stern Death forbade my orphan youth to share<br /> +The tender guidance of a father's care.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +"What brother springs a brother's love to seek?<br /> +What sister's gentle kiss has prest my cheek?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +"Thus must I cling to some endearing hand,<br /> +And none more dear than Ida's social band:"—<br /> +</div> + +<p>he goes on to name his dearest comrades, giving them each a fictitious +name. Alonzo is Wingfield; Davus, Tattersall; Lycus, Lord Clare: +Euryalus, Lord Delaware; and Cleon, Long:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191] </a></span>—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Alonzo! best and dearest of my friends,</span><br /> +Thy name ennobles him who thus commends:<br /> +From this fond tribute thou canst gain no praise:<br /> +The praise is his who now that tribute pays.<br /> +Oh! in the promise of thy early youth,<br /> +If hope anticipate the words of truth,<br /> +Some loftier bard shall sing thy glorious name,<br /> +To build his own upon thy deathless fame.<br /> +Friend of my heart, and foremost of the list<br /> +Of those with whom I lived supremely blest,<br /> +Oft have we drain'd the font of ancient lore;<br /> +Though drinking deeply, thirsting still the more.<br /> +Yet, when confinement's lingering hour was done,<br /> +Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one:<br /> +Together we impell'd the flying ball;<br /> +Together waited in our tutor's hall;<br /> +Together join'd in cricket's manly toil,<br /> +Or shared the produce of the river's spoil;<br /> +Or, plunging from the green declining shore,<br /> +Our pliant limbs the buoyant billows bore;<br /> +In every element, unchanged, the same,<br /> +All, all that brother's should be, but the name.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor yet are you forgot, my jocund boy!</span><br /> +Davus, the harbinger of childish joy;<br /> +Forever foremost in the ranks of fun,<br /> +The laughing herald of the harmless pun;<br /> +Yet with a breast of such materials made—<br /> +Anxious to please, of pleasing half afraid;<br /> +Candid and liberal, with a heart of steel<br /> +In danger's path, though not untaught to feel.<br /> +Still I remember, in the factious strife,<br /> +The rustic's musket aim'd against my life:<br /> +High poised in air the massy weapon hung,<br /> +A cry of horror burst from every tongue;<br /> +While I, in combat with another foe,<br /> +Fought on, unconscious of th' impending blow;<br /> +Your arm, brave boy, arrested his career—<br /> +Forward you sprung, insensible to fear;<br /> +Disarm'd and baffled by your conquering hand,<br /> +The grovelling savage roll'd upon the sand:<br /> +An act like this, can simple thanks repay?<br /> +Or all the labors of a grateful lay?<br /> +Oh no! whene'er my breast forgets the deed,<br /> +That instant, Davus, it deserves to bleed.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Lycus! on me thy claims are justly great:</span><br /> +Thy milder virtues could my muse relate,<br /> +To thee alone, unrivall'd, would belong<br /> +The feeble efforts of my lengthen'd song.<br /> +Well canst thou boast, to lead in senates fit,<br /> +A Spartan firmness with Athenian wit:<br /> +Though yet in embryo these perfections shine,<br /> +Lycus! thy father's fame will soon be thine.<br /> +Where learning nurtures the superior mind,<br /> +What may we hope from genius thus refin'd!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192] </a></span>When time at length matures thy growing years,<br /> +How wilt thou tower above thy fellow-peers!<br /> +Prudence and sense, a spirit bold and free,<br /> +With honor's soul, united, beam in thee.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Shall fair Euryalus pass by unsung?</span><br /> +From ancient lineage, not unworthy sprung:<br /> +What though one sad dissension bade us part?<br /> +That name is yet embalm'd within my heart;<br /> +Yet at the mention does that heart rebound,<br /> +And palpitate, responsive to the sound.<br /> +Envy dissolved our ties, and not our will:<br /> +We once were friends,—I'll think we are so still,<br /> +A form unmatch'd in nature's partial mould,<br /> +A heart untainted, we in thee behold:<br /> +Yet not the senate's thunder thou shalt wield,<br /> +Nor seek for glory in the tented field;<br /> +To minds of ruder texture these be given—<br /> +Thy soul shall nearer soar its native heaven.<br /> +Haply, in polish'd courts might be thy seat,<br /> +But that thy tongue could never forge deceit:<br /> +The courtier's supple bow and sneering smile,<br /> +The flow of compliment, the slippery wile.<br /> +Would make that breast with indignation burn,<br /> +And all the glittering snares to tempt thee spurn.<br /> +Domestic happiness will stamp thy fate;<br /> +Sacred to love, unclouded e'er by hate;<br /> +The world admire thee, and thy friends adore;<br /> +Ambition's slave alone would toil for more.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Now last, but nearest, of the social band,</span><br /> +See honest, open, generous Cleon stand;<br /> +With scarce one speck to cloud the pleasing scene,<br /> +No vice degrades that purest soul serene.<br /> +On the same day our studious race begun,<br /> +On the same day our studious race was run;<br /> +Thus side by side we pass'd our first career,<br /> +Thus side by side we strove for many a year;<br /> +At last concluded our scholastic life,<br /> +We neither conquer'd in the classic strife:<br /> +As speakers, each supports an equal name,<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a><br /> +And crowds allow to both a partial fame:<br /> +To soothe a youthful rival's early pride,<br /> +Though Cleon's candor would the palm divide,<br /> +Yet candor's self compels me now to own<br /> +Justice awards it to my friend alone.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Oh! friends regretted, scenes forever dear,</span><br /> +Remembrance hails you with her warmest tear!<br /> +Drooping, she bends o'er pensive Fancy's urn,<br /> +To trace the hours which never can return;<br /> +Yet with the retrospection loves to dwell,<br /> +And soothe the sorrows of her last farewell!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193] </a></span>Yet greets the triumph of my boyish mind,<br /> +As infant laurels round my head were twined,<br /> +When Probus' praise repaid my lyric song,<br /> +Or placed me higher in the studious throng;<br /> +Or when my first harangue received applause,<br /> +His sage instruction the primeval cause,<br /> +What gratitude to him my soul possest,<br /> +While hope of dawning honors fill'd my breast!<br /> +For all my humble fame, to him alone<br /> +The praise is due, who made that fame my own.<br /> +Oh! could I soar above these feeble lays,<br /> +These young effusions of my early days,<br /> +To him my muse her noblest strain would give:<br /> +The song might perish, but the theme might live.<br /> +Yet why for him the needless verse essay?<br /> +His honored name requires no vain display:<br /> +By every son of grateful Ida blest,<br /> +It finds an echo in each youthful breast;<br /> +A fame beyond the glories of the proud,<br /> +Or all the plaudits of the venal crowd.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Ida! not yet exhausted is the theme,</span><br /> +Nor closed the progress of my youthful dream.<br /> +How many a friend deserves the grateful strain!<br /> +What scenes of childhood still unsung remain!<br /> +Yet let me hush this echo of the past,<br /> +This parting song, the dearest and the last;<br /> +And brood in secret o'er those hours of joy,<br /> +To me a silent and a sweet employ,<br /> +While, future hope and fear alike unknown,<br /> +I think with pleasure on the past alone;<br /> +Yes, to the past alone my heart confine,<br /> +And chase the phantom of what once was mine.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Ida! still o'er thy hills in joy preside,</span><br /> +And proudly steer through time's eventful tide;<br /> +Still may thy blooming sons thy name revere,<br /> +Smile in thy bower, but quit thee with a tear,—<br /> +That tear, perhaps, the fondest which will flow<br /> +O'er their last scene of happiness below.<br /> +Tell me, ye hoary few, who glide along,<br /> +The feeble veterans of some former throng,<br /> +Whose friends, like autumn leaves by tempests whirl'd,<br /> +Are swept forever from this busy world;<br /> +Revolve the fleeting moments of your youth,<br /> +While Care as yet withheld her venom'd tooth;<br /> +Say if remembrance days like these endears<br /> +Beyond the rapture of succeeding years?<br /> +Say, can ambition's fever'd dream bestow<br /> +So sweet a balm to soothe your hours of woe?<br /> +Can treasures, hoarded for some thankless son,<br /> +Can royal smiles, or wreaths by slaughter won,<br /> +Can stars or ermine, man's maturer toys<br /> +(For glittering bawbles are not left to boys),<br /> +Recall one scene so much beloved to view<br /> +As those where Youth her garland twined for you?<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194] </a></span>Ah, no! amid the gloomy calm of age<br /> +You turn with faltering hand life's varied page;<br /> +Peruse the record of your days on earth,<br /> +Unsullied only where it marks your birth;<br /> +Still lingering pause above each checker'd leaf,<br /> +And blot with tears the sable lines of grief;<br /> +When Passion o'er the theme her mantle threw,<br /> +Or weeping Virtue sigh'd a faint adieu;<br /> +But bless the scroll which fairer words adorn,<br /> +Traced by the rosy finger of the morn;<br /> +When Friendship bow'd before the shrine of Truth,<br /> +And Love, without his pinion, smiled on youth."<br /> +</div> + +<p>On leaving Harrow and his best friends, Byron felt that he was saying +adieu to youth and to its pleasures, and he was as yet unable to replace +these by the feasts of the mind. This filled his heart with regret in +addition to the sorrows which he experienced by those reflections upon +existence which are common to all poetical natures. The cold discipline +of Cambridge fell like ice upon his warm nature. He fell ill, and, by +way of seeking a relief to the oppression of his mind, he wrote the +above transcribed poem.</p> + +<p>Harrow is called Ida, as his friends are denominated by fictitious +names. To the college itself, and to the recollections which it brought +back to his memory of physical and mental suffering, he addresses +himself:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Ida! blest spot, where Science holds her reign,<br /> +How joyous once I join'd thy youthful train!<br /> +Bright in idea gleams thy lofty spire,<br /> +Again I mingle with thy playful quire.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +My wonted haunts, my scenes of joy and woe,<br /> +Each early boyish friend, or youthful foe;<br /> +Our feuds dissolved, but not my friendship past,<br /> +I bless the former, and forgive the last."<br /> +</div> + +<p>The same kind, affectionate disposition can be traced in all his other +poems, together with those well-inculcated notions of God's justice, +wisdom, and mercy, of toleration and forgiveness, of hatred of falsehood +and contempt of prejudices, which never abandoned him throughout his +life.</p> + +<p>I really pity those who could read "The Tear" without being touched by +its simple, plaintive style, written in the tenderest strain, or +"L'Amitié est l'Amour sans Ailes," or the lines to the Duke of Dorset on +leaving Harrow, or the "Prayer of Nature," or his stanzas to Lord Clare, +to Lord<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195] </a></span> Delaware, to Edward Long, or his generous forgiveness of Miss +Chaworth; or, again, his lines on believing that he was going to die, +his answer to a poem called "The Common Lot," his reply to Dr. Beecher, +and, finally, his address to a companion whose conduct obliged him to +withdraw his friendship:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"What friend for thee, howe'er inclined,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will deign to own a kindred care?</span><br /> +Who will debase his manly mind,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For friendship every fool may share?</span><br /> +<br /> +"In time forbear; amid the throng<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No more so base a thing be seen;</span><br /> +No more so idly pass along;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be something, any thing but—mean."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Since our object is to show in these effusions of a youthful mind, its +natural beauty, and not that genius which is shortly to be developed by +contact with the troubles and pains of this life, it may not be +irrelevant to our subject to give in parts, if not entirely, some of the +poems which he wrote at this time:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>The Tear.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ducentium ortus ex animo; quater</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Felix! in imo qui scatentem</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit."—<span class="smcap">Gray.</span></span><br /> +<br /> +When Friendship or Love our sympathies move,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When truth in a glance should appear,</span><br /> +The lips may beguile with a dimple or smile,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the test of affection's a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +Too oft is a smile but the hypocrite's wile,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To mask detestation or fear;</span><br /> +Give me the soft sigh, while the soul-telling eye<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is dimm'd for a time with a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +Mild Charity's glow, to us mortals below,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shows the soul from barbarity clear;</span><br /> +Compassion will melt where this virtue is felt,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And its dew is diffused in a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +The man doom'd to sail with the blast of the gale,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through billows Atlantic to steer,</span><br /> +As he bends o'er the wave which may soon be his grave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The green sparkles bright with a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +The soldier braves death for a fanciful wreath<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In glory's romantic career;</span><br /> +But he raises the foe when in battle laid low,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bathes every wound with a Tear.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196] </a></span><br /> +If with high-bounding pride he return to his bride,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Renouncing the gore-crimson'd spear,</span><br /> +All his toils are repaid, when, embracing the maid,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From her eyelid he kisses the Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +Sweet scene of my youth! seat of Friendship and Truth,<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where love chased each fast-fleeting year,</span><br /> +Loth to leave thee, I mourn'd, for a last look I turn'd,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +Though my vows I can pour to my Mary no more,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Mary to love once so dear,</span><br /> +In the shade of her bower I remember the hour<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She rewarded those vows with a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +By another possest, she may live ever blest!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her name still my heart must revere:</span><br /> +With a sigh I resign what I once thought was mine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And forgive her deceit with a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ye friends of my heart, ere from you I depart,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This hope to my breast is most near:</span><br /> +If again we shall meet in this rural retreat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May we meet as we part, with a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +When my soul wings her flight to the regions of night,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And my corse shall recline on its bier,</span><br /> +As ye pass by the tomb where my ashes consume,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +May no marble bestow the splendor of woe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which the children of vanity rear;</span><br /> +No fiction of fame shall blazon my name,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All I ask—all I wish—is a Tear.</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap"><b>L'Amitié est L'amour sans Ailes.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +Why should my anxious breast repine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because my youth is fled?</span><br /> +Days of delight may still be mine;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Affection is not dead.</span><br /> +In tracing back the years of youth,<br /> +One firm record, one lasting truth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Celestial consolation brings;</span><br /> +Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat,<br /> +Where first my heart responsive beat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Friendship is Love without his wings!"</span><br /> +<br /> +Through few, but deeply checker'd years,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What moments have been mine!</span><br /> +Now half-obscured by clouds of tears,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now bright in rays divine;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197] </a></span>Howe'er my future doom be cast,<br /> +My soul enraptured with the past,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To one idea fondly clings;</span><br /> +Friendship! that thought is all thine own,<br /> +Worth worlds of bliss, that thought alone—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Friendship is Love without his wings!"</span><br /> +<br /> +Where yonder yew-trees lightly wave<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their branches on the gale,</span><br /> +Unheeded heaves a simple grave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which tells the common tale;</span><br /> +Round this unconscious schoolboys stray,<br /> +Till the dull knell of childish play<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From yonder studious mansion rings;</span><br /> +But here when'er my footsteps move,<br /> +My silent tears too plainly prove<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Friendship is Love without his wings!"</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh, Love! before thy glowing shrine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My early vows were paid;</span><br /> +My hopes, my dreams, my heart was thine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But these are now decay'd;</span><br /> +For thine are pinions like the wind,<br /> +No trace of thee remains behind,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Except, alas! thy jealous stings.</span><br /> +Away, away! delusive power,<br /> +Thou shalt not haunt my coming hour;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unless, indeed, without thy wings.</span><br /> +<br /> +Seat of my youth! thy distant spire<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Recalls each scene of joy;</span><br /> +My bosom glows with former fire,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In mind again a boy.</span><br /> +Thy grove of elms, thy verdant hill<br /> +Thy every path delights me still,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each flower a double fragrance flings;</span><br /> +Again, as once, in converse gay,<br /> +Each dear associate seems to say,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Friendship is Love without his wings!"</span><br /> +<br /> +My Lycus! wherefore dost thou weep?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy falling tears restrain;</span><br /> +Affection for a time may sleep,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But, oh! 'twill wake again.</span><br /> +Think, think, my friend, when next we meet,<br /> +Our long-wish'd interview, how sweet!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From this my hope of rapture springs;</span><br /> +While youthful hearts thus fondly swell,<br /> +Absence, my friend, can only tell,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Friendship is Love without his wings!"</span><br /> +<br /> +In one, and one alone deceived,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did I my error mourn?</span><br /> +No—from oppressive bonds relieved,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I left the wretch to scorn.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198] </a></span>I turn'd to those my childhood knew,<br /> +With feelings warm, with bosoms true,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Twined with my heart's according strings;</span><br /> +And till those vital chords shall break,<br /> +For none but these my breast shall wake<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Friendship, the power deprived of wings!</span><br /> +<br /> +Ye few! my soul, my life is yours,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My memory and my hope;</span><br /> +Your worth a lasting love insures,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unfetter'd in its scope;</span><br /> +From smooth deceit and terror sprung<br /> +With aspect fair and honey'd tongue,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let Adulation wait on kings;</span><br /> +With joy elate, by snares beset,<br /> +We, we, my friends, can ne'er forget<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Friendship is Love without his wings!"</span><br /> +<br /> +Fictions and dreams inspire the bard<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who rolls the epic song;</span><br /> +Friendship and truth be my reward—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To me no bays belong;</span><br /> +If laurell'd Fame but dwells with lies,<br /> +Me the enchantress ever flies,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose heart and not whose fancy sings;</span><br /> +Simple and young, I dare not feign;<br /> +Mine be the rude yet heartfelt strain,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Friendship is Love without his wings!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19.5em;"><i>December</i>, 1806.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>These early poems are well characterized by the impression which they +produced upon Sir Robert Dallas, a man of taste and talent, who, though +a bigot and a prey to prejudices of all kinds, hastened, nevertheless, +after reading them, to compliment the author in the following +words:—"Your poems are not only beautiful as compositions, but they +also denote an honorable and upright heart, and one prone to virtue."</p> + +<p>This eulogium is well deserved, and I pity those who could read the +"Hours of Idleness" without liking their youthful writer. If we had +space enough, we fain would follow the young man from Cambridge to the +mysterious Abbey of Newstead, where he loved to invite his friends and +institute with them a monastery of which he proclaimed himself the +Abbot—an amusement really most innocent in itself, and which bigotry +and folly alone could consider reprehensible. With what pleasure he +would show that in the monastery of Newstead its abbot lived the +simplest and most austere existence,—"a life of study," as Washington +Irving describes it, from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199] </a></span> what he heard Nanna Smyth say of it some +years after Byron's death. How delighted we should be to follow him in +his first travels in search of experience of life, and when his genius +revealed itself in that light which was shortly to make him the idol of +the public and the hatred of the envious. We could show him to have been +always the same kind-hearted man, by whom severity and injustice were +never had recourse to except against himself, and whose melancholy was +too often the result of broken illusions and disappointments. His simple +and noble character, having always before it an ideal perfection, +perpetually by comparison, thought itself at fault; and the world, who +could not comprehend the exquisite delicacy of his mind, took for +granted the reputation he gave himself, and made him a martyr till +heaven should give him time to become a saint.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> See chapter upon Generosity.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Marston Moor, where the adherents of Charles I. were +defeated. Prince Rupert, son of the Elector Palatine, and nephew to +Charles I. He afterward commanded the fleet in the reign of Charles II.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> This alludes to the public speeches delivered at the +school where the author was educated.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Harrow.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE FRIENDSHIPS OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>The extraordinary part which friendship played in Lord Byron's life is +another proof of his goodness. His friendships may be divided into two +categories: the friendships of his heart, and those of his mind. To the +first class belong those which he made at Harrow and in his early +Cambridge days, while his later acquaintances at the University matured +into friends of the second category. These had great influence over his +mind. The names of those of the first category who were dearest to him, +and who were alive when he left Harrow for Cambridge (for he had lost +some very intimate friends while still at Harrow, and among these +Curzon), were—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="10" summary=""> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Wingfield.</span></td><td><span class="smcap">Clare.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Delaware.</span></td><td><span class="smcap">Long.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Tattersall.</span></td><td><span class="smcap">Eddleston.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Harness.</span></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>I will say a word of each, so as to show that Byron in the selection of +his friends was guided instinctively by the qualities of those he loved.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>WINGFIELD.</b></p> + +<p>The Hon. John Wingfield, of the Coldstream Guards, was a brother of +Richard, fourth Viscount Powerscourt, and died of fever at Coimbra, on +the 14th of May, 1811, in his 20th year.</p> + +<p>"Of all beings on earth," says Byron, "I was perhaps at one time more +attached to poor Wingfield than to any. I knew him during the best part +of his life and the happiest portion of mine."</p> + +<p>When he heard of the death of this beloved companion of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201] </a></span> his youth, he +added the two following stanzas to the first canto of "Childe Harold:"</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">XCI.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And thou, my friend!—since unavailing woe</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bursts from my heart, and mingles with the strain—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pride might forbid e'en Friendship to complain:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But thus unlaurell'd to descend in vain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By all forgotten, save the lonely breast,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mix unbleeding with the boasted slain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While Glory crowns so many a meaner crest!</span><br /> +What hadst thou done, to sink so peacefully to rest?<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">XCII.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Oh, known the earliest, and esteem'd the most!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dear to a heart where naught was left so dear!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though to my hopeless days forever lost,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In dreams deny me not to see thee here!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Morn in secret shall renew the tear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Consciousness awaking to her woes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till my frail frame return to whence it rose,</span><br /> +And mourn'd and mourner lie united in repose."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Writing to Dallas on the 7th of August, 1812, he says, "Wingfield was +among my best and dearest friends; one of the very few I can never +regret to have loved." And on the 7th of September, speaking of the +death of Matthews, in whom he said he had lost a friend and a guide, he +wrote to Dallas to say: "In Wingfield I have lost a friend only; but one +I could have wished to precede in his long journey."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>TATTERSALL (DAVUS).</b></p> + +<p>The Rev. John Cecil Tattersall, B.A., of Christ Church, Oxford, died on +the 8th of October, 1812, aged 24.</p> + +<p>"His knowledge," says a writer in the "Gentleman's Magazine," "was +extensive and deep; his affections were sincere and great. By his +extreme aversion to hypocrisy, he was so far from assuming the +appearance of virtue, that most of his good qualities remained hidden, +while he was most anxious to reveal the slightest fault into which he +had fallen. He was a stanch friend, and a stranger to all enmity; he +behaved loyally to men when alive, and died full of confidence and trust +in God."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202] </a></span></p> + + +<p class="center"><b>DELAWARE (EURYALUS).</b></p> + +<p>George John, fifth Earl of Delaware, born in October, 1791, succeeded to +his father in July, 1795.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron wrote from Harrow on the 25th of October, 1804:—</p> + +<p>"I am very comfortable here; my friends are not numerous, but choice. +Among the first of these I place Delaware, who is very amiable, and my +great friend. He is younger than I am, but is gifted with the finest +character. He is the most intelligent creature on earth, and is besides +particularly good-looking, which is a charm in women's eyes."</p> + +<p>In consequence of a misunderstanding, or rather of a false +accusation,—of which I shall speak elsewhere, in order to show the +generosity of Lord Byron's character,—a coolness took place in their +friendship. A charming piece in the "Hours of Idleness" alludes to it, +and shows well the nature of his mind. I will only quote the seventh +stanza:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If danger demanded, were wholly your own;</span><br /> +You knew me unalter'd by years or by distance,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Devoted to love and to friendship alone."</span><br /> +</div> + + +<p class="center"><b>CLARE (LYCUS).</b></p> + +<p>John Fitzgibbon, second Earl of Clare, succeeded to his father in 1802; +was twelve years Chancellor of Ireland, and, later, Governor of Bombay.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron wrote of him at Ravenna:—</p> + +<p>"I never hear the name of Clare without my heart beating even now, and I +am writing in 1821, with all the feelings of 1803, 4, 5, and <i>ad +infinitum</i>."</p> + +<p>He had kept all the letters of his early friends, and among these is one +of Lord Clare's, in which the energy of his mind appears even through +the language of the child. At the bottom of this letter and in Byron's +hand, is a note written years after, showing his tender and amiable +feelings:—</p> + +<p>"This letter was written at Harrow by Lord Clare, then, and I trust +ever, my beloved friend. When we were both students, he sent it to me in +my study, in consequence of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203] </a></span> brief childish misunderstanding, the only +one we ever had. I keep this note only to show him, and laugh with him +at the remembrance of the insignificance of our first and last quarrel.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"> +<span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>Besides mentioning Lord Clare in "Childish Recollections," his "Hours of +Idleness" contain another poem addressed to him, which begins thus:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>To the Earl of Clare.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">"Tu semper amoris</span><br /> +Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat imago."—<span class="smcap">Val. Flac.</span><br /> +<br /> +Friend of my youth! when young we roved,<br /> +Like striplings, mutually beloved,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With friendship's purest glow,</span><br /> +The bliss which winged those rosy hours<br /> +Was such as pleasure seldom showers<br /> +On mortals here below.<br /> +<br /> +The recollection seems alone<br /> +Dearer than all the joys I've known,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When distant far from you:</span><br /> +Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain,<br /> +To trace those days and hours again,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sigh again, adieu!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<br /> +Our souls, my friend! which once supplied<br /> +One wish, nor breathed a thought beside,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now flow in different channels:</span><br /> +Disdaining humbler rural sports,<br /> +'Tis yours to mix in polish'd courts,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shine in fashion's annals:</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<br /> +I think I said 'twould be your fate<br /> +To add one star to royal state:—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May regal smiles attend you!</span><br /> +And should a noble monarch reign,<br /> +You will not seek his smiles in vain,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If worth can recommend you.</span><br /> +<br /> +Yet since in danger courts abound,<br /> +Where specious rivals glitter round,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From snares may saints preserve you;</span><br /> +And grant your love or friendship ne'er<br /> +From any claim a kindred care,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But those who best deserve you!</span><br /> +<br /> +Not for a moment may you stray<br /> +From truth's secure, unerring way!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204] </a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">May no delights decoy!</span><br /> +O'er roses may your footsteps move,<br /> +Your smiles be ever smiles of love,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your tears be tears of joy!</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh! if you wish that happiness<br /> +Your coming days and years may bless,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And virtues crown your brow;</span><br /> +Be still, as you were wont to be,<br /> +Spotless as you've been known to me,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be still as you are now.</span><br /> +<br /> +And though some trifling share of praise,<br /> +To cheer my last declining days,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To me were doubly dear,</span><br /> +While blessing your beloved name,<br /> +I'd waive at once a <i>poet's</i> fame,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To prove a <i>prophet</i> here.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>In 1821, as he was going to Pisa, Byron met his old and dear friend +Clare on the route to Bologna, and speaks of their meeting in the +following terms:—</p> + +<p>"'There is a strange coincidence sometimes in the little things of this +world, Sancho,' says Sterne, in a letter (if I mistake not), and so I +have often found it. At page 128, article 91, of this collection, I had +alluded to my friend Lord Clare in terms such as my feelings suggested. +About a week or two afterward I met him on the road between Imola and +Bologna, after an interval of seven or eight years. He was abroad in +1814, and came home just as I set out in 1816.</p> + +<p>"This meeting annihilated for a moment all the years between the present +time and the days of Harrow. It was a new and inexplicable feeling, like +rising from the grave, to me. Clare, too, was much agitated—more in +appearance than I was myself; for I could feel his heart beat to his +fingers' ends, unless, indeed, it was the pulse of my own which made me +think so. He told me, that I should find a note from him left at +Bologna. I did. We were obliged to part for our different journeys—he +for Rome, I for Pisa—but with the promise to meet again in the spring. +We were but five minutes together, and on the public road; but I hardly +recollect an hour of my existence which could be weighed against those +few minutes.... Of all I have ever known he has always been the least +altered in every thing from the excellent qualities and kind affections +which attached me to him so strongly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205] </a></span> at school. I should hardly have +thought it possible for society to leave a being with so little of the +leaven of bad passions.</p> + +<p>"I do not speak from personal experience only, but from all I have ever +heard of him from others during absence and distance."</p> + +<p>"My greatest friend, Lord Clare, is at Rome," he wrote to Moore from +Pisa, in March, 1822: "we met on the road, and our meeting was quite +sentimental—really pathetic on both sides. I have always loved him +better than any male thing in the world."</p> + +<p>In June Lord Clare came to visit Byron, and on the 8th of that month +Byron wrote to Moore:—</p> + +<p>"A few days ago my earliest and dearest friend, Lord Clare, came over +from Geneva on purpose to see me before he returned to England. As I +have always loved him, since I was thirteen at Harrow, better than any +male thing in the world, I need hardly say what a melancholy pleasure it +was to see him for a day only; for he was obliged to resume his journey +immediately."</p> + +<p>On another occasion he told Medwin that there is no pleasure in +existence like that of meeting an early friend.</p> + +<p>"Lord Clare's visit," says Madame G——, "gave Byron the greatest joy. +The last day they spent together at Leghorn was most melancholy. Byron +had a kind of presentiment that he should never see his friend again, +and in speaking of him, for a long time after, his eyes always filled +with tears."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>LONG (CLEON).</b></p> + +<p>Edward Long was with Lord Byron at Harrow and at Cambridge. He entered +the Guards, and distinguished himself in the expedition to Copenhagen. +As he was on his way to join the army in the Peninsula, in 1809, the +ship in which he sailed was run down by another vessel, and Long was +drowned with several others.</p> + +<p>Long's friendship contributed to render Byron's stay at Cambridge +bearable after his beloved Harrow days.</p> + +<p>"Long," says Lord Byron, "was one of those good and amiable creatures +who live but a short time. He had talents and qualities far too rare not +to make him very much regret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206] </a></span>ted." He depicts him as a lively companion, +with an occasional strange touch of melancholy. One would have said he +anticipated, as it were, the fate which awaited him.</p> + +<p>The letter which he wrote to Byron, on leaving the University to enter +the Guards, was so full of sadness that it contrasted strangely with his +habitual humor.</p> + +<p>"His manners," says Lord Byron, "were amiable and gentle, and he had a +great disposition to look at the comical side of things. He was a +musician, and played on several instruments, especially the flute and +the violincello. We spent our evenings with music, but I was only a +listener. Our principal beverage consisted in soda-water. During the day +we rode, swam, walked, and read together; but we only spent one summer +with each other."</p> + +<p>On his leaving Cambridge, Byron addressed to him the following lines:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>To Edward Noel Long, Esq.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +"Nil ego contulerim jocundo sanus amico."—<span class="smcap">Horace</span>.<br /> +<br /> +Dear Long, in this sequester'd scene,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While all around in slumber lie,</span><br /> +The joyous days which ours have been<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come rolling fresh on Fancy's eye;</span><br /> +Thus if amid the gathering storm,<br /> +While clouds the darken'd noon deform,<br /> +Yon heaven assumes a varied glow,<br /> +I hail the sky's celestial bow,<br /> +Which spreads the sign of future peace,<br /> +And bids the war of tempests cease.<br /> +Ah! though the present brings but pain,<br /> +I think those days may come again;<br /> +Or if, in melancholy mood,<br /> +Some lurking envious fear intrude,<br /> +To check my bosom's fondest thought,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And interrupt the golden dream,</span><br /> +I crush the fiend with malice fraught,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And still indulge my wonted theme.</span><br /> +Although we ne'er again can trace<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Granta's vale the pedant's lore;</span><br /> +Nor through the groves of Ida chase<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our raptured visions as before,</span><br /> +Though Youth has flown on rosy pinion,<br /> +And Manhood claims his stern dominion,<br /> +Age will not every hope destroy,<br /> +But yield some hours of sober joy.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes, I will hope that Time's broad wing</span><br /> +Will shed around some dews of spring:<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207] </a></span>But if his scythe must sweep the flowers<br /> +Which bloom among the fairy bowers,<br /> +Where smiling youth delights to dwell,<br /> +And hearts with early rapture swell;<br /> +If frowning age, with cold control,<br /> +Confines the current of the soul,<br /> +Congeals the tear of Pity's eye,<br /> +Or checks the sympathetic sigh,<br /> +Or hears unmoved misfortune's groan,<br /> +And bids me feel for self alone;<br /> +Oh, may my bosom never learn<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To soothe its wonted heedless flow,</span><br /> +Still, still despise the censor stern,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But ne'er forget another's woe.</span><br /> +Yes, as you knew me in the days<br /> +O'er which Remembrance yet delays,<br /> +Still may I rove, untutor'd, wild,<br /> +And even in age at heart a child.<br /> +<br /> +Though now on airy visions borne,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To you my soul is still the same.</span><br /> +Oft has it been my fate to mourn,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all my former joys are tame.</span><br /> +But hence! ye hours of sable hue!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your frowns are gone, my sorrows o'er:</span><br /> +By every bliss my childhood knew,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll think upon your shade no more.</span><br /> +Thus, when the whirlwind's rage is past,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And caves their sullen roar inclose,</span><br /> +We heed no more the wintry blast,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When lull'd by zephyr to repose.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Long's death was the cause of great grief to Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>"Long's father," said he, "has written to ask me to write his son's +epitaph. I promised to do it, but I never had the strength to finish +it."</p> + +<p>I will add that Mr. Wathen having gone to visit Lord Byron at Ravenna, +and having told him that he knew Long, Byron henceforth treated him with +the utmost cordiality. He spoke of Long and of his amiable qualities, +until he could no longer hide his tears.</p> + +<p>In the month of October, 1805, Lord Byron left Harrow for Trinity +College, Cambridge, and in 1821 he thus described himself, and his own +feelings on leaving his beloved Ida for a new scene of life:—</p> + +<p>"When I went to college it was for me a most painful event. I left +Harrow against my wish, and so took it to heart, that before I left I +never slept for counting the days<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208] </a></span> which I had still to spend there. In +the second place, I wished to go to Oxford and not to Cambridge; and, in +the third place, I found myself so isolated in this new world, that my +mind was perfectly depressed by it.</p> + +<p>"Not that my companions were not sociable: quite the contrary; they were +particularly lively, hospitable, rich, noble, and much more gay than +myself. I mixed, dined, and supped with them; but, I don't know why, the +most painful and galling sensation of life was that of feeling I was no +longer a child."</p> + +<p>His grief was such that he fell ill, and it was during that illness that +he wrote and partly dictated the poem "Recollections of Childhood," in +which he mentions and describes all his dear comrades of Harrow, with +that particular charm of expression and thought which the heart alone +can inspire.</p> + +<p>It was again under the same impression that he wrote the most melancholy +lines in the "Hours of Idleness," where the regret of the past +delightful days of his childhood, spent at his dear Ida, ever comes +prominently forward.</p> + +<p class="center"> +"I would I were a careless child,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>he exclaims in one poem, and finishes the same by the lines,—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Oh that to me the wings were given<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which bear the turtle to her nest!</span><br /> +Then would I cleave the vault of Heaven<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To flee away, and be at rest."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Life at Harrow appears to have been for him then the ideal of happiness. +At times the distant view of the village and college of Harrow, inspires +his muse, at others a visit to the college itself, and an hour spent +under the shade of an elm in the church-yard. His whole soul is so +revealed in these two poems, that I can not forbear quoting them <i>in +extenso</i>:—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap"><b>On a Distant View of the Village and School of Harrow-on-the-hill.</b></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<br /> +"Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos."—<span class="smcap">Virgil</span>.<br /> +<br /> +Ye scenes of my childhood, whose loved recollection<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Embitters the present, compared with the past;</span><br /> +Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209] </a></span><br /> +Where fancy yet joys to trace the resemblance<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied,</span><br /> +How welcome to me your ne'er-fading remembrance,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which rests in the bosom, though hope is denied!</span><br /> +<br /> +Again I revisit the hills where we sported,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought;</span><br /> +The school where, loud warn'd by the bell, we resorted,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To pore o'er the precepts by pedagogues taught.</span><br /> +<br /> +Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I lay;</span><br /> +Or round the steep brow of the church-yard I wander'd,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray.</span><br /> +<br /> +I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown;</span><br /> +While, to swell my young pride, such applauses resounded,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I fancied that Mossop himself was outshown.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Or, as Lear, I pour'd forth the deep imprecation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By my daughters of kingdom and reason deprived;</span><br /> +Till, fired by loud plaudits and self-adulation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I regarded myself as a Garrick revived.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast;</span><br /> +Though sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your pleasures may still be in fancy possest.</span><br /> +<br /> +To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While fate shall the shades of the future unroll!</span><br /> +Since darkness o'ershadows the prospect before me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More dear is the beam of the past to my soul!</span><br /> +<br /> +But if, through the course of the years which await me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some new scene of pleasure should open to view,</span><br /> +I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + + +<p><span class="smcap"><b>Lines written beneath an Elm in the Church-yard of Harrow.</b></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<br /> +Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,<br /> +Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;<br /> +Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,<br /> +With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;<br /> +With those who, scatter'd far, perchance deplore,<br /> +Like me, the happy scenes they knew before:<br /> +Oh! as I trace again thy winding hill,<br /> +Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210] </a></span>Thou drooping Elm! beneath whose boughs I lay,<br /> +And frequent mused the twilight hours away;<br /> +Where, as they once were wont, my limbs recline,<br /> +But ah! without the thoughts which then were mine:<br /> +How do thy branches, moaning to the blast,<br /> +Invite the bosom to recall the past,<br /> +And seem to whisper, as they gently swell,<br /> +"Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last farewell!"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When fate shall chill, at length, this fever'd breast,</span><br /> +And calm its cares and passions into rest,<br /> +Oft have I thought, 'twould soothe my dying hour—<br /> +If aught may soothe when life resigns her power—<br /> +To know some humble grave, some narrow cell,<br /> +Would hide my bosom where it loved to dwell.<br /> +With this fond dream, methinks, 'twere sweet to die—<br /> +And here it linger'd, here my heart might lie;<br /> +Here might I sleep where all my hopes arose;<br /> +Scene of my youth, and couch of my repose;<br /> +Forever stretch'd beneath this mantling shade,<br /> +Press'd by the turf where once my childhood play'd;<br /> +Wrapt by the soil that veils the spot I loved,<br /> +Mix'd with the earth o'er which my footsteps moved;<br /> +Blest by the tongues that charm'd my youthful ear,<br /> +Mourn'd by the few my soul acknowledged here;<br /> +Deplored by those in early days allied,<br /> +And unremember'd by the world beside.<br /> +</div> + +<p>"But although he may for a time," says Moore, "have experienced this +kind of moral atomy, it was not in his nature to be long without +attaching himself to somebody, and the friendship which he conceived for +Eddleston—a man younger than himself, and not at all of his rank in +society—even surpassed in ardor all the other attachments of his +youth."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>EDDLESTON.</b></p> + +<p>was one of the choristers at Cambridge. His talent for music attracted +Byron's attention. When he lost the society of Long, who had been his +sole comfort at Cambridge, he took very much to the company of young +Eddleston. One feels how much he was attached to him, on reading those +lines in which he thanks Eddleston for a cornelian heart he had sent +him:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>The Cornelian.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +No specious splendor of this stone<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Endears it to my memory ever;</span><br /> +With lustre only once it shone,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And blushes modest as the giver.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211] </a></span><br /> +Some, who can sneer at friendship's ties,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have for my weakness oft reproved me;</span><br /> +Yet still the simple gift I prize,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I am sure the giver loved me.</span><br /> +<br /> +He offer'd it with downcast look,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As fearful that I might refuse it;</span><br /> +I told him, when the gift I took,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My only fear should be to lose it.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>When Eddleston left college, Lord Byron wrote to Miss Pigott a letter +full of regret at having lost his youthful friend, and thanking her for +having taken an interest in him.</p> + +<p>"During the whole time we were at Cambridge together," says Byron, "we +saw each other every day, summer and winter, and never once found a +moment of <i>ennui</i>, but parted each day with greater regret. I trust," he +added, at the end of his letter, "that you will some day see us +together; that is the being I esteem most, though I love several +others."</p> + +<p>But in the year 1811 Eddleston died of consumption; and Lord Byron wrote +to Miss Pigott's mother, to beg of her to return the cornelian heart +which he had intrusted to her care, because it had "now acquired a value +which he wished it had never had;" the original donor having died at the +age of twenty-one, a few months before, and being "the sixth in the +space of four months of a series of friends and relations whom he had +lost since May."</p> + +<p>The cornelian heart was restored, and Byron was informed that he had +only intrusted it, but not given it to Miss Pigott. It was on learning +of Eddleston's death that Byron added the touching ninth stanza to the +second canto of "Childe Harold."</p> + +<p>After speaking of the hope of meeting again in a celestial abode, those +whom he loved on earth, and all those who taught the truth, he +exclaims,—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"There, thou!—whose love and life together fled,<br /> +Have left me here to love and live in vain—<br /> +Twined with my heart, and can I deem thee dead<br /> +When busy Memory flashes on my brain?<br /> +Well—I will dream that we may meet again,<br /> +And woo the vision to my vacant breast:<br /> +If aught of young Remembrance then remain,<br /> +Be as it may Futurity's behest,<br /> +For me 'twere bliss enough to know thy spirit blest!"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212] </a></span></div> + +<p>Among the children younger than himself of whom he established himself +the protector, one of those he loved best was his fag William Harness.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>HARNESS.</b></p> + +<p>The Rev. William Harness is the author of the work entitled the +"Relations between Christianity and Happiness, by one of the oldest and +most esteemed friends of Lord Byron."</p> + +<p>Harness was four years younger than Byron, and one of the earliest +friends he made at Harrow. Lord Byron had not been long at the school, +and had not yet formed any friendship with other boys, when he saw a +boy, "still lame from an accident of his childhood, and but just +recovered from a severe illness, bullied by a boy much older and +stronger than himself." Byron interfered and took his part.</p> + +<p>"We both seem perfectly to recollect," says he, "with a mixture of +pleasure and regret, the hours we once passed together; and I assure +you, most sincerely, they are numbered among the happiest of my brief +chronicle of enjoyment. I am now getting into years, that is to say, I +was twenty a month ago, and another year will send me into the world, to +run my career of folly with the rest. I was then just fourteen—you were +almost the first of my Harrow friends, certainly the first in my esteem, +if not in date; but an absence from Harrow for some time shortly after, +and new connections on your side, and the difference in our conduct, +from that turbulent and riotous disposition of mine which impelled me +into every species of mischief, all these circumstances combined to +destroy our intimacy, which affection urged me to continue, and Memory +compels me to regret. But there is not a circumstance attending that +period, hardly a sentence we exchanged, which is not impressed on my +mind at this moment.</p> + +<p>"There is another circumstance you do not know:—the first lines I ever +attempted at Harrow were addressed to you; but as on our return from the +holidays we were strangers, the lines were destroyed.</p> + +<p>"I have dwelt longer on this theme than I intended, and I shall now +conclude with what I ought to have begun. Will you sometimes write to +me? I do not ask it often, and, if we meet, let us be what we should be, +and what we were."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213] </a></span></p> + +<p>Young Harness, gifted with a calm and mild temperament, was being +educated for the Church. Besides being always at Harrow, and four years +younger than Byron, the life which the latter led at Newstead and at +Cambridge did not suit one destined to a career which requires greater +severity of demeanor. But the two friends corresponded, and Lord Byron +sent him one of his early copies of "Hours of Idleness." In the letter +which the Rev. W. Harness wrote to Moore, after Byron's death, to tell +him the nature of the quarrel which he and Byron had had together, and +their subsequent reconciliation, he ends by saying:—</p> + +<p>"Our conversation was renewed and continued from that time till his +going abroad. Whatever faults Lord Byron may have exhibited toward +others, to myself he was always uniformly affectionate.... I can not +call to mind a single instance of caprice or unkindness in the whole +course of our intimacy to allege against him."</p> + +<p>The fault to which Harness alludes, and which he acknowledges, was one +of the kind to which Byron was most sensitive, namely, coldness. Having +lost some of his early and best friends, Edward Long, and all the others +being spread far and near, abroad and in England, following out their +respective careers and destiny, Harness was about the only early friend +he had near him.</p> + +<p>The time was approaching when he was going to leave England, to travel +and to learn by study the great book of Nature. His heart was wounded by +the injustice which had been done him, by the many disenchantments which +he had experienced, by the brutal criticism of his "Hours of Idleness" +from the pen of his relation Lord Carlisle, and by his money +difficulties. Unable as yet to foretell the effects of his satire, which +had not yet appeared, and the success of which might have consoled him a +little for past mortifications, he found in friendship his sole relief, +and particularly in the friendship of Harness. At this very critical +time, Harness—(be it either through the influence of his family and +relations, or through a notion that his principles were rather unsuited +to the heterodox opinions of Lord Byron)—behaved coldly toward Byron. +Dallas, however, who from puritanism and family pride, and even from +jealousy, was rather an enemy of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214] </a></span> Lord Byron's intellectual +friends—(contending that it was they who had instilled into Byron all +the anti-orthodox views which the poet had adopted)—makes an exception +in favor of Harness.</p> + +<p>Byron spoke of Harness with an affection which he hoped was repaid to +him. I often met him at Newstead, and both he and Byron had had their +portraits taken, which they were to make a present of to one another. It +was not until some unknown cause sprung up to establish a coldness +between the two friends that their intimacy ceased, and at the same time +Harness's visits to Newstead. Byron felt it very keenly.</p> + +<p>In what degree the conduct of Harness hurt Lord Byron and contributed to +those explosions of misanthropy which, slight and passing as they were, +have nevertheless been urged as a reproach against his first and second +cantos of "Childe Harold," I shall examine later.</p> + +<p>Here it is only necessary to say that in a soul such as his, where +rancor could never live, such a coldness wounded him without altering +his sentiments in any way. After two years' absence he returned to +England, and so heartily forgave Harness that he actually wished to +dedicate to him the first two cantos of "Childe Harold," and only gave +up this idea from a generous fear that its dedication might injure him +in his clerical profession, on account of certain stanzas in the poem +which were not quite orthodox.</p> + +<p>"The letter," says Moore, "in which he expresses these delicate +sentiments is, unfortunately, lost."</p> + +<p>Some months after his return to England he resumed his correspondence +with Harness, and both the friends assembled at Newstead. Harness, +however, as a clergyman, was severe in his judgments. Byron wrote to +him:—</p> + +<p>"You are censorious, child: when you are a little older, you will learn +to dislike every body, but abuse nobody.... I thank you most truly for +the concluding part of your letter. I have been of late not much +accustomed to kindness from any quarter, and I am not the less pleased +to meet with it again from one to whom I had known it earliest. I have +not changed in all my ramblings; Harrow, and of course yourself, never +left me, and the</p> + +<p class="center"> +'Dulces reminiscitur Argos.'<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215] </a></span></p> + +<p>attended me to the very spot to which that sentence alludes in the mind +of the fallen Argive. Our intimacy began before we began to date at all, +and it rests with you to continue it till the hour which must number it +and me with the things that were."</p> + +<p>Two days afterward, he writes to him again a letter full of endearing +expressions, couched in a friendly tone of interest, of which the +following extracts are instances:—</p> + +<p>"And now, child, what art thou doing? Reading, I trust. I want to see +you take a degree. Remember, this is the most important period of your +life; and don't disappoint your papa and your aunt and all your kin, +besides myself.</p> + +<p>"You see, <i>mio carissimo</i>, what a pestilent correspondent I am likely to +become; but then you shall be as quiet at Newstead as you please, and I +won't disturb your studies as I do now."</p> + +<p>On the 11th of December, of the same year, he invites Moore to Newstead +and says, "H—— will be here, and a young friend named Harness, the +earliest and dearest I ever had from the third form at Harrow to this +hour."</p> + +<p>And, finally, he wrote to Harness that he had no greater pleasure than +to hear from him; indeed, that it was more than a pleasure.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>HIS LATER FRIENDS.</b></p> + +<p>When he had reached his nineteenth year, which was the second of his +stay at Cambridge, Byron (having lost sight of most of his Harrow +friends to whom he dedicated his verses, and having lost both Long and +Eddleston) suddenly found himself launched into the vortex of a +university life, for which he had no liking. Happily, however, he was +thrown among young men of great distinction, whom fate had then gathered +at Cambridge.</p> + +<p>"It was so brilliant a constellation," says Moore, "that perhaps such a +one will never be seen again." Among these he selected his friends from +their literary merit. Those he most distinguished were Hobhouse, +Matthews, Banks, and Scroope Davies. They formed a coterie at Cambridge, +and spent most of their holidays at Newstead.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>HOBHOUSE.</b></p> + +<p>Sir John Cam Hobhouse, Bart., since created a peer, under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216] </a></span> the name of +Lord Broughton, is one of the statesmen and writers the memory of whom +England most reveres. It is he whom Byron addresses as Moschus in the +"Hints from Horace." After being Byron's friend at college, he became +his faithful companion likewise in his travels, and throughout his +short-lived but brilliant career. It was he who accompanied Byron in the +fatal journey to Seaham, where Byron wedded Miss Milbank. It was he who +stood best man on that occasion, and it was he whom Byron selected as +his executor.</p> + +<p>As soon as Byron became of age in 1809, the two friends left England +together to visit Greece, Portugal, Spain, and Turkey. The results of +these travels were, Byron's first two cantos of "Childe Harold," and +Hobhouse's "Journey across Albania, and other Provinces of Turkey in +Europe and in Asia."</p> + +<p>On their return to England, their intimacy did not cease. "Hobhouse," +Byron was wont to say, "ever gets me out of difficulty;" and in his +journal of 1814 he says, "Hobhouse has returned. He is my best friend, +the most animated and most amusing, and one whose knowledge is very deep +and extensive. Hobhouse told me ten thousand anecdotes of Napoleon, +which must be true. Hobhouse is the most interesting of travelling +companions, and really excellent."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron wished him to be his best man when he married Miss Milbank at +Seaham, and after his separation from her Hobhouse joined him in +Switzerland. They travelled together through the Oberland, and visited +all the scenes which inspired that magnificent poem entitled "Manfred." +Thence they left for Italy, and visited it from North to South; from the +Alps to Rome. The result of this journey was the fourth canto of "Childe +Harold" from Byron, and from Hobhouse a volume of notes, which +constitutes a work of very great merit. If such a companion was +agreeable to Byron, Byron was not less so to Hobhouse, who deplores a +journey he had made without the company of that friend, whose +perspicacity of observation and ingenious remarks united in producing +that liveliness and good-humor, which take away half the sting of +fatigue, and soften the aspect of danger and of difficulties.</p> + +<p>During his absence from England Byron always insisted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217] </a></span> that all matters +relating to the settlement of his affairs should pass through the hands +of Hobhouse, his "alter ego" when near or when absent. His highest +testimony of regard and friendship for Hobhouse, however, is to be found +in the dedication of the fourth canto of "Childe Harold," which was +written in Italy in 1815, and which is as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap"><b>Canto the Fourth</b></span>.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>To John Hobhouse, Esq., A.M., F.R.S., etc.</i></p> + +<p style="text-align: right">Venice, January 2, 1818.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Hobhouse</span>,—After an interval of eight years between the +composition of the first and last cantos of Childe Harold, the +conclusion of the poem is about to be submitted to the public. In +parting with so old a friend, it is not extraordinary that I should +recur to one still older and better,—to one who has beheld the +birth and death of the other, and to whom I am far more indebted +for the social advantages of an enlightened friendship, +than—though not ungrateful—I can, or could be, to Childe Harold, +for any public favor reflected through the poem on the poet,—to +one whom I have known long and accompanied far, whom I have found +wakeful over my sickness and kind in my sorrow, glad in my +prosperity and firm in my adversity, true in counsel and trusty in +peril,—to a friend often tried and never found wanting;—to +yourself.</p> + +<p>In so doing, I recur from fiction to truth; and in dedicating to +you, in its complete or at least concluded state, a poetical work +which is the longest, the most thoughtful and comprehensive of my +compositions, I wish to do honor to myself by the record of many +years' intimacy with a man of learning, of talent, of steadiness, +and of honor. It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive +flattery; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been permitted to +the voice of friendship; and it is not for you, nor even for +others, but to relieve a heart which has not elsewhere, or lately, +been so much accustomed to the encounter of good-will as to +withstand the shock firmly, that I thus attempt to commemorate your +good qualities, or rather the advantages which I have derived from +their exertion. Even the recurrence of the date of this letter, the +anniversary of the most unfortunate day of my past existence,<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> +but which can not poison my future while I retain the resource of +your friendship, and of my own faculties, will henceforth have a +more agreeable recollection for both, inasmuch as it will remind us +of this my attempt to thank you for an indefatigable regard, such +as few men have experienced, and no one could experience without +thinking better of his species and of himself.</p> + +<p>It has been our fortune to traverse together, at various periods, +the countries of chivalry, history, and fable—Spain, Greece, Asia +Minor, and Italy; and what Athens and Constantinople were to us a +few years ago, Venice and Rome have been more recently. The poem +also, or the pilgrim, or both, have accompanied me from first to +last; and perhaps it may be a pardonable vanity which induces me to +reflect with complacency on a composition which in some degree +connects me with the spot where it was produced, and the objects it +would fain describe; and however unworthy it may be deemed of those +magical and memorable abodes, however short it may fall of our +distant conceptions and immediate impressions, yet as a mark of +respect for what is venerable, and of feeling for what is glorious, +it has been to me a source of pleasure in the production, and I +part with it with a kind of regret, which I hardly suspected that +events could have left me for imaginary objects.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218] </a></span></p> + +<p>With regard to the conduct of the last canto, there will be found +less of the pilgrim than in any of the preceding, and that little +slightly, if at all, separated from the author speaking in his own +person. The fact is, that I had become weary of drawing a line +which every one seemed determined not to perceive: like the Chinese +in Goldsmith's "Citizen of the World," whom nobody would believe to +be a Chinese, it was in vain that I asserted, and imagined that I +had drawn, a distinction between the author and the pilgrim; and +the very anxiety to preserve this difference, and disappointment at +finding it unavailing, so far crushed my efforts in the +composition, that I determined to abandon it altogether—and have +done so. The opinions which have been, or may be, formed on that +subject, are <i>now</i> a matter of indifference: the work is to depend +on itself and not on the writer; and the author, who has no +resources in his own mind beyond the reputation, transient or +permanent, which is to arise from his literary efforts, deserves +the fate of authors.</p> + +<p>In the course of the following canto it was my intention, either in +the text or in the notes, to have touched upon the present state of +Italian literature, and perhaps of manners. But the text, within +the limits I proposed, I soon found hardly sufficient for the +labyrinth of external objects, and the consequent reflections; and +for the whole of the notes, excepting a few of the shortest, I am +indebted to yourself, and these were necessarily limited to the +elucidation of the text.</p> + +<p>It is also a delicate, and no very grateful task, to dissert upon +the literature and manners of a nation so dissimilar; and requires +an attention and impartiality which would induce us—though perhaps +no inattentive observers, nor ignorant of the language or customs +of the people among whom we have recently abode—to distrust, or at +least defer our judgment, and more narrowly examine our +information. The state of literary as well as political party +appears to run, or to <i>have</i> run, so high, that for a stranger to +steer impartially between them is next to impossible. It may be +enough then, at least for my purpose, to quote from their own +beautiful language—"Mi pare che in un paese tutto poetico, che +vanta la lingua la più nobile ed insieme la più dolce, tutte tutte +le vie diverse si possouo tentare, e che sinche la patria di +Alfieri e di Monti non ha perduto l'antico valore, in tutte essa +dovrebbe essere la prima." Italy has great names still: Canova, +Monti, Ugo Foscolo, Pindemonte, Visconti, Morelli, Cicognara, +Albrizzi, Mezzophanti, Mai, Mustoxidi, Aglietti, and Vacca, will +secure to the present generation an honorable place in most of the +departments of art, sciences, and belles-lettres; and in some the +very highest. Europe—the World—has but one Canova.</p> + +<p>It has been somewhere said by Alfieri, that "La pianta uomo nasce +più robusta in Italia che in qualunque altra terra—e che gli +stessi atroci delitti che vi si commettono ne sono una prova." +Without subscribing to the latter part of his proposition—a +dangerous doctrine, the truth of which may be disputed on better +grounds, namely, that the Italians are in no respect more ferocious +than their neighbors—that man must be willfully blind, or +ignorantly heedless, who is not struck with the extraordinary +capacity of this people, or, if such a word be admissible, their +<i>capabilities</i>, the facility of their acquisitions, the rapidity of +their conceptions, the fire of their genius, their sense of beauty, +and amid all the disadvantages of repeated revolutions, the +desolation of battles, and the despair of ages, their still +unquenched "longing after immortality"—the immortality of +independence. And when we ourselves, in riding round the walls of +Rome, heard the simple lament of the laborers' chorus, "Roma! Roma! +Roma! Roma non è più come era prima," it was difficult not to +contrast this melancholy dirge with the bacchanal roar of the songs +of exultation still yelled from the London taverns, over the +carnage of Mont St. Jean, and the betrayal of Genoa, of Italy of +France, and of the world, by men whose conduct you yourself have +exposed in a work worthy of the better days of our history. For +me,—</p> + +<p> +"Non movero mai corda<br /> +Ove la turba di sue ciance assorda."<br /> +</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219] </a></span></p> + +<p>What Italy has gained by the late transfer of nations, it were +useless for Englishmen to inquire, till it becomes ascertained that +England has acquired something more than a permanent array and a +suspended Habeas Corpus; it is enough for them to look at home. For +what they have done abroad, and especially in the south "verily +they <i>will have</i> their reward," and at no very distant period.</p> + +<p>Wishing you, my dear Hobhouse, a safe and agreeable return to that +country whose real welfare can be dearer to none than to yourself, +I dedicate to you this poem in its completed state; and repeat once +more how truly I am ever, your obliged and affectionate friend,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>MATTHEWS.</b></p> + +<p>"Of this remarkable young man, Charles Skinner Matthews," says Moore, "I +have already had occasion to speak; but the high station which he held +in Lord Byron's affection and admiration may justify a somewhat ampler +tribute to his memory.</p> + +<p>"There have seldom, perhaps, started together in life so many youths of +high promise and hope as were to be found among the society of which +Lord Byron formed a part at Cambridge. Among all these young men of +learning and talent, the superiority in almost every department of +intellect seems to have been, by the ready consent of all, awarded to +Matthews.... Young Matthews appears—in spite of some little asperities +of temper and manner, which he was already beginning to soften down when +snatched away—to have been one of those rare individuals who, while +they command deference, can at the same time win regard, and who, as it +were, relieve the intense feeling of admiration which they excite by +blending it with love."</p> + +<p>Matthews died while bathing in the Cam.</p> + +<p>On the 7th of September, 1811, Byron wrote to Dallas as +follows:—"Matthews, Hobhouse, Davies, and myself, formed a coterie of +our own at Cambridge and elsewhere.... Davies, who is not a scribbler, +has always beaten us all in the war of words. H—— and myself always +had the worst of it with the other two, and even M—— yielded to the +dashing vivacity of S. D——."</p> + +<p>And in another letter:—"You did not know M——: he was a man of the +most astonishing powers."</p> + +<p>And again, speaking of his death to Mr. Hodgson, he writes:—</p> + +<p>"You will feel for poor Hobhouse; Matthews was the god<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220] </a></span> of his idolatry: +and if intellect could exalt a man above his fellows, no one would +refuse him pre-eminence."</p> + +<p>Matthews died at the time when he was offering himself to compete for a +lucrative and honorable position in the University. As soon as his death +was known, it was said that if the highest talents could be sure of +success, if the strictest principles of honor, and the devotion to him +of a multitude of friends could have assured it, his dream would have +been realized.</p> + +<p>Besides a great superiority of intellect, Matthews was gifted with a +very amusing originality of thought, which, joined to a very keen sense +of the ridiculous, exercised a kind of irresistible fascination. Lord +Byron, who loved a joke better than any one, took great pleasure in all +the amusing eccentricities of him who was styled the Dean of Newstead; +while Byron had been christened by him the Abbot of that place.</p> + +<p>Shortly before his death, in 1821, Byron wrote a very amusing letter +from Ravenna to Murray, recalling a host of anecdotes relating to +Matthews, and which well set forth the clever eccentricity of the man +for whom Byron professed so much esteem and admiration.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>SCROOPE DAVIES.</b></p> + +<p>We have already seen what Byron thought of Davies. His cleverness, his +great vivacity, and his gayety, were great resources to Byron in his +moments of affliction. When, in 1811, Byron experienced the bitterest +loss of his life—that of his mother—he wrote from Newstead to beg that +Davies would come and console him.</p> + +<p>Shortly after, he wrote to Hodgson to say, "Davies has been here. His +gayety, which death itself can not change, has been of great service to +me: but it must be allowed that our laughter was very false."</p> + +<p>We must not forget to mention, among the friends of Byron, William +Banks, Mr. Pigott, of Southwell, and Mr. Hodgson, a writer of great +merit, who was one of his companions at Newstead, and with whom he +corresponded even during his voyage in the East. For all these he +maintained throughout life the kindest remembrance, as also for Mr. +Beecher, for whom he entertained a regard equal to his affection. Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221] </a></span> +Beecher having disapproved of the moral tendency of his early poems, +Lord Byron destroyed in one night the whole of the first edition of +those poems, in order to prove his sense of esteem for Mr. Beecher's +opinion. In the same category we should place Lord Byron's friendship +for Dr. Drury, his tutor at Harrow; but this latter friendship is so +marked with feelings of respect, veneration, and gratitude, that I had +rather speak of it later, when I shall treat of the last-named quality, +as one of the most noticeable in Lord Byron's character.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>GRIEF WHICH HE EXPERIENCED AT THE LOSS OF HIS FRIENDS.</b></p> + +<p>The grief which the loss of his friends occasioned to him was +proportioned to the degree of affection which he entertained for them. +By a curious fatality he had the misfortune to lose at an early age, +almost all those he loved. This grief reached its climax on his return +from his first travels.</p> + +<p>"If," says Moore, "to be able to depict powerfully the painful emotions +it is necessary first to have experienced them, or, in other words, if, +for the poet to be great, the man must suffer, Lord Byron, it must be +owned, paid early this dear price of mastery. In the short space of one +month," he says in a note on Childe Harold, "I have lost her who gave me +being, and most of those who made that being tolerable." Of these young +Wingfield, whom we have seen high on the list of his Harrow favorites, +died of a fever at Coimbra; and Matthews, the idol of his admiration at +Cambridge, was drowned while bathing in the Cam. The following letter, +written shortly after, shows so powerful a feeling of regret, and +displays such real grief, that it is almost painful to peruse it:</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dearest Davies</span>,—Some curse hangs over me and mine. My mother lies a +corpse in this house; one of my best friends is drowned in a ditch. What +can I say, or think, or do? My dear Scroope, if you can spare a moment, +do come down to me; I want a friend. Matthews's last letter was written +on Friday; on Saturday he was not. In ability who was like Matthews? +Come to me; I am almost desolate; left almost alone in the world. I had +but you and H—— and M——, and let me enjoy the survivors while I +can."</p> + +<p>Writing to Dallas on the first of August, he says:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Besides her who gave me being, I have lost more than one who made that +being tolerable. Matthews, a man of the first talents, has perished +miserably in the muddy waves of the Cam; my poor school-fellow +Wingfield, at Coimbra, within a month: and while I had heard from all +three, but not seen one. But let this pass; we shall all one day pass +along with the rest; the world is too full of such things, and our very +sorrow is selfish."</p> + +<p>To Hodgson he writes:—</p> + +<p>"Indeed, the blows followed each other so rapidly, that I am yet stupid +from the shock; and though I do eat, and drink, and talk, and even laugh +at times, yet I can hardly persuade myself that I am awake, did not +every morning convince me mournfully to the contrary.</p> + +<p>"You will write to me? I am solitary, and I never felt solitude irksome +before."</p> + +<p>Some months later he heard of the death of his friend Eddleston, of +which he wrote to Dallas in the following terms:</p> + +<p>"I have been again shocked with a death, and have lost one very dear to +me in happier times. But 'I have almost forgot the taste of grief,' and +'supped full of horrors' till I have become callous, nor have I a tear +left for an event which, five years ago, would have bowed down my head +to the earth. It seems as though I were to experience in my youth the +greatest misery of age. My friends fall around me, and I shall be left a +lonely tree before I am withered."</p> + +<p>On that same day, 11th of October, when his mind was a prey to such +grief, he received a letter from Hodgson, advising him to banish all +cares and to find in pleasure the distraction he needed. Lord Byron +replied by some lines which Moore has reproduced; but the last of which +he omitted to give, and which were written only to mystify the excellent +Mr. Hodgson, who always looked at every thing and every one in a bright +light, and whom Byron wished to frighten.</p> + +<p>Here are the first lines:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Oh! banish care, such ever be<br /> +The motto of <i>thy</i> revelry!<br /> +Perchance of <i>mine</i> when wassail nights<br /> +Renew those riotous delights,<br /> +Wherewith the children of Despair<br /> +Lull the lone heart, and 'banish care,'<br /> +But not in morn's reflecting hour."<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223] </a></span></div> + +<p>Two days after replying in verse, he answered him in prose.</p> + +<p>"I am growing nervous—it is really true—really, wretchedly, +ridiculously, fine-ladically, nervous. I can neither read, write, nor +amuse myself, or any one else. My days are listless, and my nights +restless."</p> + +<p>The same day, 11th October, 1811, one of the darkest in his life, he +wrote also his first stanza, addressed to Thyrza, of which the pathetic +charm seems to rise to the highest pitch.</p> + +<p>"To no other but an imaginary being," says Moore, "could he have +addressed such tender and melancholy poetical lines."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>BYRON'S FRIENDSHIP FOR MOORE.</b></p> + +<p>At this time of his life, whether from the numerous injuries inflicted +on him by men and by fate, or from some other circumstance, Byron seemed +to be less given to friendships than formerly. He felt the force of +friendship as deeply as before, but he became less expansive. Death, in +taking so many of his friends away from him, had endeared those who +remained still more to his heart, and caused him to seek among these the +consolation he wanted. It is not true to say that Lord Byron was left +alone entirely, at any time of his life: quite the contrary, he at all +times lived in the midst of friends more or less devoted to him. Dallas +and Moore pretend that there was a time in his early youth when he had +no friends at all; but this time can not be stated, unless one forgets +the names of Hobhouse, Hodgson, Harness, Clare, and many others who +never lost sight of him, and unless one forgets the life of devotion +which he led at Southwell and at Newstead both before and after his +travels in the East.</p> + +<p>Dallas and Moore, in speaking of this momentary isolation, in all +probability adopted a common prejudice which causes them to believe that +a lord must ever be lonely unless he is surrounded by a circle of rich +and fashionable companions. The truth is that Byron, having left England +immediately on quitting college, only had college connections, with all +of whom he renewed his friendship on his return to the mother-country. +But it is equally true, and this is to his credit, that he long +hesitated to replace departed friends by new ones.</p> + +<p>To conquer this repugnance he required a very high degree of esteem for +the friend he was about to make, a similar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224] </a></span>ity of tastes, and above all +a sympathy based upon real goodness. This was the time of his greatest +mental depression. It preceded that splendid epoch in his life, when his +star shone with such brilliancy in the literary sphere, thanks to +"Childe Harold," and in the world of politics through his parliamentary +successes, which had earned for him the praises of the whole nation. +Then did friends present themselves in scores, but out of these few were +chosen.</p> + +<p>Among the great men of the day who surrounded him, he took to several, +and in particular to Lord Holland, a Whig like himself, and a man +equally distinguished for the excellence of his heart as for his rare +intellect. Lord Holland's hospitality was the pride of England. Byron +also conceived a liking for Lord Lansdowne,—the model of every virtue, +social and domestic; for Lord Dudley, whose wit so charmed him; for Mr. +Douglas Kinnaird, brother to Lord Kinnaird, whom Byron called his most +devoted friend in politics and in literature; for all those first +notabilities of the day, Rogers, Sheridan, Curran, Mackintosh, for all +of whom he may be said to have entertained a feeling akin to friendship. +But all these were friends of the moment; friends whom the relations of +every-day life in the world of fashion had brought together, and whose +talents exacted admiration, and hence he formed ties which may be styled +friendship, provided the strict sense of that word is not understood. +Byron felt this more than any one.</p> + +<p>One man, however, contrived to get such a hold on his mind and heart, +that he became truly his friend, and exercised a salutary influence over +him. This man, who contributed to dispel the dark clouds which hung over +Byron's mind, and was the first to charm him in his new life of fashion, +was no other than Thomas Moore.</p> + +<p>This new intimacy had not, it is true, the freshness of his early +friendships, formed, as these were, in the freshness of a young heart, +and therefore without any worldly calculations. Moore was even ten years +his senior. But his affection for Moore, founded as it was upon a +similarity of tastes, upon mutual reminiscences, esteem and admiration, +soon developed itself into a friendship which never changed. The +circumstances under which Byron and Moore became friends speak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225] </a></span> too +highly for the credit of both not to be mentioned here, and we must +therefore say a few words on the subject.</p> + +<p>Byron, as the reader knows, had in his famous satire of "English Bards," +etc., attacked the poems of Moore as having an immoral tendency. Instead +of interpreting the beautiful Irish melodies in their figurative sense, +Byron had taken the direct sense conveyed in their love-inspiring words, +and considered them as likely to produce effeminate and unhealthy +impressions.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Who in soft guise, surrounded by a choir<br /> +Of virgins melting, not to Vesta's fire,<br /> +With sparkling eyes, and cheek by passion flush'd,<br /> +Strikes his wild lyre, while listening dames are hush'd?<br /> +'Tis Little! young Catullus of his day,<br /> +As sweet, but as immoral, in his lay!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +Yet kind to youth,...<br /> +She bids thee 'mend thy line and sin no more.'"<br /> +</div> + +<p>Lord Byron was always of opinion that literature, when it tends to exalt +the more tender sentiments of our nature, pure as these may be, is ever +injurious to the preservation of those manly and energetic qualities +which are so essential for the accomplishment of a noble mission here +below. This opinion is illustrated by the occasional extreme energy of +his heroes, and by his repugnance to introduce love into his dramas. If +this reproach offended Moore a little, Lord Byron's allusion to his duel +with Jeffrey at Chalk Farm in 1806, where it was said that the pistols +of each were not loaded, must have wounded him still more, and he wrote +a letter to Lord Byron which must, it would seem, have brought on a +duel.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron was then travelling in the Levant, and the letter remained +with his agent in London. It was only two years after, on his return +from his travels, that he received it. An exchange of letters with Moore +took place, and such was the "good sense, self-possession and frankness" +of Byron's conduct in the matter, that Moore was quite pacified, and all +chances of a duel disappeared with the reconciliation of both, at the +request of each.</p> + +<p>The reconciliation took place under the auspices of Rogers, and at a +dinner given by the latter for that purpose. After speaking of his +extraordinary beauty, and of the delicacy and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226] </a></span> prudence of his conduct, +Moore, in referring to this dinner, ends by saying, "Such did I find +Lord Byron on my first experience of him, and such, so open and +manly-minded did I find him to the last."</p> + +<p>Byron, too, was influenced by the charm of Moore's acquaintance, and so +dear to him became the latter's society through that kind of electric +current which appears to run through some people and forms between them +an unbounded sympathy, that it actually succeeded in dispelling the +sombre ideas which then possessed his soul.</p> + +<p>Their similarity of tastes, and at the same time those differences of +character which are so essential to the development of the intellect of +two sympathetic minds, were admirably adapted to form the charm which +existed in their relations with one another.</p> + +<p>This sympathy, however, would never have found a place in the mind of +Lord Byron had it not sprung from his heart. Amiability was essential in +his friends before he could love them; and though Moore had not that +quality in its highest degree, still he had it sufficiently for Lord +Byron to say in one of his notes, "I have received the most amiable +letter possible from Moore. I really think him the most kind-hearted man +I ever met. Besides which, his talents are equal to his sentiments."</p> + +<p>His sympathy for Moore was such that the mention of his name was enough +to awaken his spirits and give him joy. This is palpable in his letters +to Moore, which are masterpieces of talent.</p> + +<p>His cordial friendship for Moore was never once affected by the series +of triumphs which followed its formation, and which made the whole world +bow before his genius. "The new scenes which opened before him with his +successes," says Moore, "far from detaching us from one another, +multiplied, on the contrary, the opportunities of meeting each other, +and thereby strengthening our intimacy."</p> + +<p>This excessive liking for Moore was kept up by all the force which +constancy lends to affection. One of Byron's most remarkable qualities +was great constancy in his likes, tastes, and a particular attachment to +the recollections of his childhood. At the age of fifteen, Moore's +"Melodies" already<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227] </a></span> delighted him. "I have just been looking over Little +Moore's Melodies, which I knew by heart at fifteen." In 1803 he wrote +from Ravenna: "Hum! I really believe that all the bad things I ever +wrote or did are attributable to that rascally book."</p> + +<p>We have seen that at Southwell he used even to ask Miss Chaworth and +Miss Pigott to sing him songs of Moore. At Cambridge, what reconciled +him to leaving Harrow were the hours which he spent with his beloved +Edward Long, with whom he used to read Moore's poetry after having +listened to Long's music.</p> + +<p>He already then had a sympathy for Moore, and a wish to know him. The +latter's place was therefore already marked out in Byron's heart, even +before he was fortunate enough to know him.</p> + +<p>Moore's straitened means often obliged him to leave London. Then Byron +was seized with a fit of melancholy.</p> + +<p>"I might be sentimental to-day, but I won't," he said. "The truth is +that I have done all I can since I am in this world to harden my heart, +and have not yet succeeded, though there is a good chance of my doing +so.</p> + +<p>"I wish your line and mine were a little less parallel, they might +occasionally meet, which they do not now.</p> + +<p>"I am sometimes inclined to write that I am ill, so as to see you arrive +in London, where no one was ever so happy to see you as I am, and where +there is no one I would sooner seek consolation from, were I ill."</p> + +<p>Then, according to his habitual custom of ever depreciating himself +morally, he writes to Moore, in answer to the latter's compliments about +his goodness: "But they say the devil is amusing when pleased, and I +must have been more venomous than the old serpent, to have hissed or +stung in your company."</p> + +<p>His sympathy for Moore went so far as to induce him to believe that he +was capable of every thing that is good.</p> + +<p>"Moore," says he, in his memoranda of 1813, "has a reunion of +exceptional talents—poetry, music, voice, he has all—and an expression +of countenance such as no one will ever have.</p> + +<p>"What humor in his poet's bag! There is nothing that Moore can not do if +he wishes.</p> + +<p>"He has but one fault, which I mourn every day—he is not here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228] </a></span></p> + +<p>He even liked to attribute to Moore successes which the latter only owed +to himself. Byron had, as the reader knows, the most musical of voices. +Once heard, it could not be forgotten.<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> He had never learned music, +but his ear was so just, that when he hummed a tune his voice was so +touching as to move one to tears.</p> + +<p>"Not a day passes," he wrote to Moore, "that I don't think and speak of +you. You can not doubt my sincere admiration, waiving personal +friendship for the present. I have you by rote and by heart, of which +<i>ecce signum</i>."</p> + +<p>He then goes on to tell him his adventure when at Lady O——'s:—</p> + +<p>"I have a habit of uttering, to what I think tunes, your 'Oh, breathe +not,' and others; they are my matins and vespers. I did not intend them +to be overheard, but one morning in comes not la Donna, but il Marita, +with a very grave face, and said, 'Byron, I must request you not to sing +any more, at least of those songs.'—'Why?'—'They make my wife cry, and +so melancholy that I wish her to hear no more of them.'</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear Moore, the effect must have been from your words, and +certainly not my music."</p> + +<p>To give Moore the benefit of effecting a great success with an Oriental +poem, Byron gave up his own idea of writing one, and sent him some +Turkish books.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking of a story," says he, "grafted on the amours of a +Peri and a mortal, something like Cayotte's 'Diable Amoureux.' +Tenderness is not my <i>forte</i>; for that reason I have given up the idea, +but I think it a subject you might make much of."</p> + +<p>Moore actually wished to write a poem on an Oriental subject, but +dreaded such a rival as Byron, and expressed his fears in writing to +him. Byron replied:—</p> + +<p>"Your Peri, my dear Moore, is sacred and inviolable. I have no idea of +touching the hem of her petticoat. Your affectation of a dislike to +encounter me is so flattering that I begin to think myself a very fine +fellow. But it really puts me out of humor to hear you talk thus."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229] </a></span></p> + +<p>Not only did Byron encourage Moore in his task, but effaced himself +completely in order to make room for him.</p> + +<p>When he published the "Bride of Abydos," Moore remarked that there +existed some connection in that poem with an incident he had to +introduce in his own poem of "Lalla Rookh." He wrote thereupon to Byron +to say that he would stop his own work, because to aspire after him to +describe the energy of passion would be the work of a Cæsar.</p> + +<p>Byron replied:—</p> + +<p>"I see in you what I never saw in poet before, a strange diffidence of +your own powers, which I can not account for, and which must be +unaccountable when a Cossack like me can appall a cuirassier.</p> + +<p>"Go on—I shall really be very unhappy if I at all interfere with you. +The success of mine is yet problematical ... Come out, screw your +courage to the sticking-place—no man stands higher, whatever you may +think on a rainy day in your provincial retreat."</p> + +<p>To Moore he dedicated his "Corsair," and to read the preface is to see +how sincerely attached Byron was to his friend.</p> + +<p>When at Venice he heard of some domestic affliction which had befallen +Moore; he wrote to him with that admirable simplicity of style which can +not be imitated, because the true accents of the heart defy imitation.</p> + +<p>"Your domestic afflictions distress me sincerely; and, as far as you are +concerned, my feelings will always reach the furthest limits to which I +may still venture. Throughout life your losses shall be mine, your gains +mine also, and, however much I may lose in sensibility, there will +always remain a drop of it for you."</p> + +<p>When Moore obtained his greatest success, and arrived at the summit of +popularity, by the publication of "Lalla Rookh," Byron's pleasure was +equal to the encouragements he had given him. But of his noble soul, in +which no feeling of jealousy could enter, we shall speak elsewhere. +Here, in conclusion, I must add that his friendship for Moore remained +stanch through time and circumstances, and even notwithstanding Moore's +wrongs toward him, of which I shall speak in another chapter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230] </a></span></p> + +<p>In treating of Byron's friendships, I have endeavored to in set forth +the wrongs which some of his friends, and Moore particular, have +committed against him both before and after his death.</p> + +<p>If, as Moore observes, it be true that Byron never lost a friend, was +their friendship a like friendship with his own? Has it ever gone so far +as to make sacrifices for his sake, and has not Lord Byron ever given +more as a friend than he ever received in return? Had he found in his +friendship among men that reciprocity of feeling which he ever found +among women, would so many injuries and calumnies have been heaped upon +his head? Would not his friends, had they shown a little more warmth of +affection, have been able to silence those numerous rivals who rendered +his life a burden to him? Had they been conscientious in their opinions, +they would certainly not have drawn upon them the rather bitter lines in +"Childe Harold:"—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">"I do believe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though I have found them not, that there may be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Words which are things, hopes which will not deceive,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And virtues which are merciful, nor weave</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Snares for the failing; I would also deem</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That two, or one, are almost what they seem,</span><br /> +That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And later, in "Don Juan," Byron would not have said with a smile, but +also with a pain which sprang from the heart:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"O Job! you had two friends: one's quite enough,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Especially when we are ill at ease;</span><br /> +They are but bad pilots when the weather's rough,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doctors less famous for their cures than fees.</span><br /> +<br /> +Let no man grumble when his friends fall off,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As they will do like leaves at the first breeze;</span><br /> +When your affairs come round, one way or t'other,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go to the coffee-house and take another."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>It is, however, also true that he would not have had the opportunity of +showing us so perfectly the beauty of his mind, and his admirable +constancy, notwithstanding the conduct of those on whom he had bestowed +his friendship. This constancy is shown even by his own words, for +immediately after the lines quoted above, he adds:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"But this is not my maxim; had it been,<br /> +Some heart-aches had been spared me."<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231] </a></span></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Mossop, a contemporary of Garrick, famous for his +performance of Zanga.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> His marriage.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Lord Holland's youngest son, in speaking of Byron, styled +him "the gentleman with the beautiful voice."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>LORD BYRON CONSIDERED AS A FATHER, AS A BROTHER, AND AS A SON.</h3> + +<h3>HIS GOODNESS SHOWN BY THE STRENGTH OF HIS INSTINCTIVE AFFECTIONS.</h3> + + +<p class="center"><b>LORD BYRON AS A FATHER.</b></p> + +<p>If, as a great moralist has said, our natural affections have power only +upon sensitive and virtuous natures, but are despised by men of corrupt +and dissipated habits, then must we find a proof again of Lord Byron's +excellence in the influence which his affections exercised over him.</p> + +<p>His tenderness for his child, and for his sister, was like a ray of +sunshine which lit up his whole heart, and in the moments of greatest +depression prevented desolation from completely absorbing his nature.</p> + +<p>His thoughts were never far from the objects of his affection.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">CXV.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"My daughter! with thy name this song begun;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My daughter! with thy name thus much shall end;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see thee not, I hear thee not, but none</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can be so wrapt in thee; thou art the friend</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To whom the shadows of far years extend:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Albeit my brow thou never shouldst behold,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My voice shall with thy future visions blend.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And reach into thy heart, when mine is cold,</span><br /> +A token and a tone, even from thy father's mould.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">CXVI.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"To aid thy mind's development, to watch</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy dawn of little joys, to sit and see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Almost thy very growth, to view thee catch</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Knowledge of objects,—wonders yet to thee!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This, it should seem, was not reserved for me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet this was in my nature: as it is,</span><br /> +I know not what is there, yet something like to this.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232] </a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">CXVIII.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And from the mountains where I now respire,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee,</span><br /> +As, with a sigh, I deem thou might'st have been to me."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Who ever read "Childe Harold" and was not touched by the delightful +stanzas of the third canto,—a perfect <i>chef-d'œuvre</i> of tenderness +and kindness, inclosed, as it were, in another master-piece, like, were +it possible, a jewel found in a diamond?</p> + +<p>Those only, however, who lived with him in Greece and in Italy are able +to bear witness to his paternal tenderness. This sentiment really +developed itself on his leaving England, and only appears from that time +forward in his poems. Byron loved all children, but his heart beat +really when he met children of Ada's age.</p> + +<p>Hearing at Venice that Moore had lost a child, he wrote to him, "I enter +fully into your misery, for I feel myself entirely absorbed in my +children. I have such tenderness for my little Ada."</p> + +<p>Both at Ravenna and at Pisa he was miserable if he did not hear from +Ada. Whenever he received any portraits of her or a piece of her hair, +these were solemn days of rejoicing for him, but they usually increased +his melancholy. When in Greece he heard of Ada's illness, he was seized +with such anxiety that he could no longer give his attention to any +thing. "His journal (which, by-the-by, was lost or destroyed after his +death) was interrupted on account of the news of his child's illness," +says Count Gamba, in his narrative of Byron's last voyage to Greece.</p> + +<p>The thought of his child was ever present to him when he wrote, and she +was the centre of all his hopes and his fears.</p> + +<p>The persecution to which he was subjected for having written "Don Juan," +having made him fear one day at Pisa that its effect upon his daughter +might be to diminish her affection for him, he said:—</p> + +<p>"I am so jealous of my daughter's entire sympathy, that, were this work, +'Don Juan'—(written to while away hours of pain and sorrow),—to +diminish her affection for me, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233] </a></span> would never write a word more; and +would to God I had not written a word of it!"</p> + +<p>He likewise said that he was often wont to think of the time when his +daughter would know her father by his works. "Then," said he, "shall I +triumph, and the tears which my daughter will then shed, together with +the knowledge that she will share the feelings with which the various +allusions to herself and me have been written, will console me in my +darkest hours. Ada's mother may have enjoyed the smiles of her youth and +childhood, but the tears of her maturer age will be for me."</p> + +<p>He distinctly foresaw that his daughter would be brought up to look +indifferently upon her father; but he never could have believed that +such means would be adopted, as were used, to alienate from him the +heart of his own child. We will give one instance only, mentioned by +Colonel Wildman, the companion and friend of Byron, who had bought +Newstead, of which he took the most religious care. Having in London +made the acquaintance of Ada, then Lady Lovelace, the colonel invited +her to pay a visit to the late residence of her illustrious father, and +she went to see it sixteen months before Byron's death. As Lady Lovelace +was looking over the library one morning, the colonel took a book of +poems and read out a poem with all the force of the soul and heart. Lady +Lovelace, in rapture with this poem, asked the name of its writer. +"There he is," said the colonel, pointing to a portrait of Byron, +painted by Phillips, which hung over the wall, and he accompanied his +gesture by certain remarks which showed what he felt at the ignorance of +the daughter. Lady Lovelace remained stupefied, and, from that moment, a +kind of revolution took place in her feelings toward her father. "Do not +think, colonel," she said, "that it is affectation in me to declare that +I have been brought up in complete ignorance of all that concerned my +father."</p> + +<p>Never had Lady Lovelace seen even the writing of her father; and it was +Murray who showed it to her for the first time.</p> + +<p>From that moment an enthusiasm for her father filled her whole soul. She +shut herself up for hours in the rooms which he had inhabited, and which +were still filled with the things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234] </a></span> which he had used. Here she devoted +herself to her favorite studies. She chose to sleep in the apartments +which were most particularly hallowed by the reminiscences of her +father, and appeared never to have been happier than during this stay at +Newstead, absorbed as she had become for the first time in all the glory +of him whose tenderness for her had been so carefully concealed from +her. From that time all appeared insipid and tasteless to her; existence +became a pain. Every thing told her of her father's renown, and nothing +could replace it. All these feelings so possessed her that she fell ill, +and when she was on the point of death she wrote to Colonel Wildman to +beg that she might be buried next to her illustrious father. There, in +the modest village church of Hucknell, lie the father and the daughter, +who, separated from one another during their lifetime, became united in +death, and thus were realized, in a truly prophetic way, the words which +close the admirable third canto of "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." Words +of consolation for those who loved Byron, and whom religion and +philosophy inspire with hope; for they think that, despite his enemies, +this union of their mortal remains must be the symbol of their union +above, and that the prophetic sense of the words pronounced in the agony +of despair will be realized by an eternal happiness.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">CXVII.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Yet, though dull Hate as duty should be taught,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I know that thou wilt love me; though my name</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With desolation, and a broken claim:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though the grave closed between us,—'twere the same,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I know that thou wilt love me; though to drain</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>My</i> blood from out thy being were an aim</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And an attainment,—all would be in vain,—</span><br /> +Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life retain."<br /> +</div> + + +<p class="center"><b>LORD BYRON AS A BROTHER.</b></p> + +<p>Fraternal love was no less conspicuous in him than his paternal +affection. It may be easily conceived how great must have been the +influence over one who cared so much for friends in general, of that +affection which is the perfection of love, and, at the same time, the +most delicate, peaceful, and charming of sentiments. Such a love has +neither misunderstand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235] </a></span>ings to dread, nor misrepresentations to fear. It +is above the caprices, ennui, and changes which often rule the +friendships of our choice.</p> + +<p>From his return from his first travels in the East, to the time of his +publishing the first two cantos of "Childe Harold," Byron may be said +not to have known his sister. The daughter of another mother, and older +by several years than himself,—living as she did with relations of her +mother, brought up as she was by her grandmother, Lady Carmarthen, and +married as she had been at an early age to the Hon. Colonel Leigh, Lord +Byron had had very few opportunities of seeing her. It was only on his +return from the East that he began to have some correspondence with her, +on the occasion of his publication of "Childe Harold." Notwithstanding +all these circumstances, which might tend to lessen in him his love for +his sister, his affection for her on the contrary increased.</p> + +<p>The reader has observed that about this time, under the pressure of +repeated sorrows, a shade of misanthropy had spread itself over his +character, notwithstanding that such a failing was totally contrary to +his nature. The acquaintance with his sister helped greatly to dispel +this veil, and, thanks to it, he was able to get rid of the first +sorrowful impressions of youth.</p> + +<p>His dear Augusta became the confidant of his heart; and his pen on the +one hand, and his sister on the other, were the means of curing him of +all ills. Her influence over him is shown by the love expressed for her +in his letters and his notes at that time, and her prudent advice often +puts to flight the more unruly dictates of his imagination. Thus, on one +occasion, Mrs. Musters (Miss Chaworth) wrote to ask Byron to come and +see her. She was miserable that she had preferred her husband to the +handsome young man now the celebrated Byron. Byron is tempted to go and +see her; he loved her so dearly when a boy. But Augusta thought it +dangerous that he should go and see her, and Byron does not.</p> + +<p>"Augusta wishes that I should be reconciled with Lord Carlisle," he +says. "I have refused this to every body, but I can not to my sister. I +shall, therefore, have to do it, though I had as lief 'Drink up Esil,' +or 'eat a crocodile.'"</p> + +<p>"We will see. Ward, the Hollands, the Lambs, Rogers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236] </a></span> every one has, +more or less, tried to settle these matters during the past two years, +but unsuccessfully; if Augusta succeeds it will be odd, and I shall +laugh."</p> + +<p>To refuse his sister any thing was out of the question. He loved her so +much that the least likeness to her in any woman was enough to attract +his sympathy. If ill, he would not have his sister know it; if she was +unwell, he can not rest until he received better accounts of her health. +Nothing, however, shows better his love for her than the lines with +which she inspired him at the time of his deepest distress; that is, on +leaving England for Switzerland. I can not transcribe them altogether, +but I can not refuse myself the satisfaction of quoting some extracts +from them.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">I.</span><br /> +<br /> +"When all around grew drear and dark,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And reason half withheld her ray—</span><br /> +And hope but shed a dying spark,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which more misled my lonely way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +Thou wert the solitary star<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which rose and set not to the last.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">IV.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Oh! blest be thine unbroken light!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That watch'd me as a seraph's eye,</span><br /> +And stood between me and the night,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forever shining sweetly nigh.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">VI.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Still may the spirit dwell on mine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And teach it what to brave or brook;</span><br /> +There's more in one soft word of thine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than in the world's defied rebuke."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Again,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Though human, thou didst not deceive me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though woman, thou didst not forsake,</span><br /> +Though loved, though forborest to grieve me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though slandered, thou never couldst shake,</span><br /> +Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though parted, it was not to fly,</span><br /> +Though watchful, 'twas not to defame me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor, mute, that the world might belie.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +"From the wreck of the past, which hath perish'd,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus much I at least may recall,</span><br /> +It hath taught me that what I most cherish'd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deserved to be dearest of all."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237] </a></span></div> + +<p>This deep fraternal affection, assumed at times under the influence of +his powerful genius, and under exceptional circumstances an almost too +passionate expression, which opened a fresh field to his enemies. But it +was to him a consolation and a benefit, which did him good throughout +his short career; and even at the times when troubles came pouring down +upon him, the love of his sister, though not sufficient to give him +courage enough to bear up, still always appeared to him as a hope and an +encouragement to do well.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>LORD BYRON AS A SON.</b></p> + +<p>The two sentiments of which we have just spoken were so strong and so +proved in Lord Byron, that it would be almost useless to speak of them, +were it not for the pleasure which there is in recalling them.</p> + +<p>But there is another natural affection which, though less manifested, +was not less felt by Byron; I mean his filial love.</p> + +<p>Many biographers, and Moore at their head, have not, for reasons to +which I have alluded in another chapter, been fair to his mother. +Besides the motives which seem always to have actuated them in the +exaggeration of his faults, and of the smallest particulars of his life, +they wished, I believe, to give to their narrative a more amusing +character. Moore would seem to say that Byron's childhood was badly +directed; but how so? Does he mean that his mother did not justly +appreciate the peculiarities of her child's character, or promote the +fine dispositions of his nature? But such a discernment in parents is +matter of rare occurrence, and can it be said that many known characters +have been handled according to the scientific rules here laid down? +Those who speak of these fine theories would, we fear, be rather puzzled +by their application, were they called to do so.</p> + +<p>It is matter of note that Byron was surrounded as a child with the +tenderest care. At a very early age he was handed over, by his +over-indulgent mother and nurses, to most respectable, intelligent, and +devoted masters; and at no time of his youth was either his physical, +intellectual, or moral education ever neglected. I may add that Byron's +mother was respected, both as a wife and as a mother. She was an heiress +belonging to a most ancient Scotch family, and closely allied to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238] </a></span> the +royal house of Stuart, and was the second wife of the youngest son of +Admiral Byron,—an unusually handsome man, and father to the poet.</p> + +<p>Though this man had been rather spoiled by the world, and had not +rendered her life perfectly happy, she loved him passionately, and was +most devoted to him. When he died, four years after their marriage, her +grief was such that it completely changed her nature.</p> + +<p>A widow at twenty-three, she centred in her only child all the depth of +her affection, and though her fortune was considerably reduced, she +still had enough to render her child's life comfortable, so that his +education did not suffer by it. He was scarcely six years of age when he +succeeded to the barony of his great-uncle, and this circumstance in a +young Englishman's life always means increased prosperity. His childhood +was, therefore, most decidedly fortunate in many respects. This is all +the more certain that Byron, throughout his life, always spoke of his +happy childhood, and that his ideal of human happiness never seems to +have been realized except at that time.</p> + +<p>But, notwithstanding Moore's exaggerations, and the excessive kindness +of his mother, whose whole life was centred in the one thought of +amusing her child, it is very likely that Byron's passionate nature may +have rendered his relations at home less agreeable than they might have +been. However much this may have been the case, it is still more certain +that such little family dissensions never produced in his mind the +slightest germ of ingratitude toward or want of care for his mother, and +that the recollection of his passionate moments only served to make him +acquire by his own efforts that wonderful self-possession for which he +was afterward remarkable.</p> + +<p>His filial sentiments betrayed themselves at every period, and in every +circumstance of his life. The reader has seen how, at Harrow, by showing +the names of their parents written on the wall, he prevented his +comrades from setting fire to the school.</p> + +<p>On attaining his majority, his first care was to improve the financial +condition of his mother, notwithstanding the shattered state of his +fortune, and to prepare a suitable apartment for her at Newstead.</p> + +<p>When the cruel criticisms of the "Edinburgh Review<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239] </a></span>" condemned his first +steps in the career of literature, his chief care after the first +explosion of his own sorrow, was to allay, as far as he could, the +sensitiveness of his mother, who, not having the same motive or power to +summon up a spirit of resistance, was, of course, more helplessly alive +to this attack upon his fame, and felt it far more than, after the first +burst of indignation, he did himself.</p> + +<p>During his first travels to the East his affairs were in a very +embarrassed state. But, nevertheless, here are the terms in which he +wrote to his mother from Constantinople:—</p> + +<p>"If you have occasion for any pecuniary supply, pray use my funds as far +as they go, without reserve; and, lest this should not be enough, in my +next to Mr. H—— I will direct him to advance any sum you may want."</p> + +<p>There is a degree of melancholy in the letter which he wrote to his +mother on his return to England. He had received most deplorable +accounts of his affairs when at Malta, and he applied the terms apathy +and indifference to the sentiments with which he approached his native +land. He goes on to say, however, that the word apathy is not to be +applied to his mother, as he will show; that he wishes her to be the +mistress of Newstead, and to consider him only as the visitor. He brings +her presents of all kinds, etc. "That notwithstanding this alienation," +adds Moore, "which her own unfortunate temper produced, he should have +continued to consult her wishes, and minister to her comforts with such +unfailing thoughtfulness (as is evinced not only in the frequency of his +letters, but in the almost exclusive appropriation of Newstead to her +use), redounds in no ordinary degree to his honor."</p> + +<p>This want of affection never existed but in the minds of some of Byron's +biographers. Lord Byron knew that his mother doted upon him, and that +she watched his growing fame with feverish anxiety.</p> + +<p>His successes were passionately looked forward to by her. She had +collected in one volume all the articles which had appeared upon his +first poems and satires, and had written her own remarks in the margin, +which showed that she was possessed of great good sense and considerable +talent. Could, then, such a heart as Lord Byron's be ungrateful, and not +love such a mother? Mr. Galt, a biographer of Byron's, who is cer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240] </a></span>tainly +not to be suspected of partiality, renders him, however, full justice in +regard to his filial devotion during the life of his mother, and to the +deep distress which he felt at her death.</p> + +<p>"In the mean time, while busily engaged in his literary projects with +Mr. Dallas, and in law affairs with his agent, he was suddenly summoned +to Newstead by the state of his mother's health. Before he reached the +Abbey she had breathed her last. The event deeply affected him. +Notwithstanding her violent temper, her affection for him had been so +fond and ardent that he undoubtedly returned it with unaffected +sincerity; and, from many casual and incidental expressions which I have +heard him employ concerning her, I am persuaded that this filial love +was not at any time even of an ordinary kind."</p> + +<p>On the night after his arrival at the Abbey, the waiting-woman of Mrs. +Byron, in passing the door of the room where the corpse lay, heard the +sound of some one sighing heavily within, and, on entering, found his +lordship sitting in the dark beside the bed. She remonstrated, when he +burst into tears, and exclaimed, "I had but one friend in the world, and +she is gone!" This same filial devotion often inspired him with +beautiful lines, such as those in the third canto of "Childe Harold," +when standing before the tomb of Julia Alpinula, he exclaims:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">LXVI.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"And there—oh! sweet and sacred be the name!—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Julia—the daughter, the devoted—gave</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her youth to Heaven; her heart, beneath a claim</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nearest to Heaven's, broke o'er a father's grave.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Justice is sworn 'gainst tears, and hers would crave</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The life she lived in; but the Judge was just,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then she died on him she could not save.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their tomb was simple, and without a bust,</span><br /> +And held within their urn one mind, one heart, one dust.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">LXVII.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"But these are deeds which should not pass away,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And names that must not wither, though the earth</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forgets her empires with a just decay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The enslavers and the enslaved, their death and birth;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The high, the mountain-majesty of worth</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should be, and shall, survivor of its woe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And from its immortality look forth</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow,</span><br /> +Imperishably pure beyond all things below."<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241] </a></span></div> + +<p>As a note to the above, Byron writes:</p> + +<p>"Julia Alpinula, a young Aventian priestess, died soon after a vain +attempt to save her father, condemned to death as a traitor by Aulus +Cœcina. Her epitaph was discovered many years ago; it is thus:</p> + +<p class="center"> +JULIA ALPINULA:<br /> +HIC JACEO.<br /> +INFELICIS PATRIS, INFELIX PROLES.<br /> +DEÆ AVENTIÆ SACERDOS.<br /> +EXORARE PATRIS NECEM NON POTUI:<br /> +MALE MORI IN FATIS ILLE ERAT.<br /> +VIXI ANNOS XXIII.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"I know," adds Byron, "of no human composition so affecting as this, nor +a history of deeper interest. These are the names and actions which +ought not to perish, and to which we turn with a true and healthy +tenderness."</p> + +<p>His father having died in 1793, when Byron was only four years of age, +he could not know him; but to show how keen were his sentiments toward +his memory, I must transcribe a note of Murray's after the following +lines in "Hours of Idleness:"—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Stern Death forbade my orphan youth to share<br /> +The tender guidance of a father's care;<br /> +Can rank, or e'en a guardian's name supply<br /> +The love which glistens in a father's eye?"<br /> +</div> + +<p>"In all the biographies which have yet been published of Byron," remarks +Murray, "undue severity has been the light by which the character of +Byron's father has been judged. Like his son, he was unfortunately +brought up by a mother only. Admiral Byron, his father, being compelled +by his duties to live away from his family, the son was brought up in a +French military academy, which was not likely at that time to do his +morals much good. He passed from school into the Coldstream Guards, +where he was launched into every species of temptation imaginable, and +likely to present themselves to a young man of singular beauty, and heir +to a fine name, in the metropolis of England."</p> + +<p>The unfortunate intrigue, of which so much has been said, as if it had +compromised his reputation as a man of honor, took place when he was +just of age, and he died in France at the age of thirty-five. One can +hardly understand why the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242] </a></span> biographers of Byron have insisted upon +depreciating the personal qualities of his father, apart from the +positively injurious and wicked assertions made against him in memoirs +of Lord Byron's life, and in reviews of such memoirs.</p> + +<p>Some severe reflections of this kind having found their way into the +preface to a French translation of Byron's works, which appeared shortly +before the latter's departure for Greece, called for an expostulation by +the son himself on behalf of his father, in a letter addressed to Mr. +Coulmann, who had been charged to offer to the poet the homage of the +French literary men of the day. This letter is interesting in more than +one particular, as it re-establishes in their true light several facts +wrongly stated with regard to Byron's family, and because it is, +perhaps, the last letter which Byron wrote from Italy. It is quoted <i>in +extenso</i> in the chapter entitled "Byron's Life in Italy."<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> I can only +repeat here the words which apply more particularly to his father:—</p> + +<p>"The author of the essay (M. Pichot) has cruelly calumniated my father. +Far from being brutal, he was, according to the testimony of all those +who knew him, extremely amiable, and of a lively character, though +careless and dissipated. He had the reputation of being a good officer, +and had proved himself such in America. The facts themselves belie the +assertion. It is not by brutal means that a young officer seduces and +elopes with a marchioness, and then marries two heiresses in succession. +It is true that he was young, and very handsome, which is a great point.</p> + +<p>"His first wife, Lady Conyers, Marchioness of Carmarthen, did not die of +a broken heart, but of an illness which she contracted because she +insisted on following my father out hunting before she had completely +recovered from her confinement, immediately after the birth of my sister +Augusta. His second wife, my mother, who claims every respect, had, I +assure you, far too proud a nature ever to stand ill-treatment from any +body, and would have proved it had it been the case. I must add, that my +father lived a long time in Paris, where he saw a great deal of the +Maréchal de Biron, the commander of the French Guards, who, from the +similarity of our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243] </a></span> names, and of our Norman extraction, believed himself +to be our cousin. My father died at thirty-seven years of age, and +whatever faults he may have had, cruelty was not one of them. If the +essay were to be circulated in England, I am sure that the part relating +to my father would pain my sister Augusta even more than myself, and she +does not deserve it; for there is not a more angelic being on earth. +Both Augusta and I have always cherished the memory of our father as +much as we cherished one another,—a proof, at least, that we had no +recollection of any harsh treatment on his part. If he dissipated his +fortune, that concerns us, since we are his heirs; but until we reproach +him with the fact, I know of no one who has a right to do so.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>."</p> + +<p>From all that has been said it will be seen that Byron's sensitive heart +was eminently adapted to family affections. Affection alone made him +happy, and his nature craved for it. He was often rather influenced by +passion than a seeker of its pleasures, and whenever he found relief in +the satisfaction of his passions, it was only because there was real +affection at the bottom,—an affection which tended to give him those +pleasures of intimacy in which he delighted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> This chapter is to be published separately, at no very +distant period, by the author.—<i>Note of the translator.</i></p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>QUALITIES OF LORD BYRON'S HEART.</h3> + + +<p>Gratitude,—that honesty of the soul which is even greater than social +honesty, since it is regulated by no express law, and that most uncommon +virtue, since it proscribes selfishness,—was pre-eminently conspicuous +in Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>To forget a kindness done, a service rendered, or a good-natured +proceeding, was for him an impossibility. The memories of his heart were +even more astonishing than those of his mind.</p> + +<p>His affection for his nurses, for his masters, for all those who had +taken care of him when a boy, is well known; and how great was his +gratitude for all that Doctor Drury had done for him! His early poems +are full of it. His grateful affection for Drury he felt until his last +hour.</p> + +<p>This quality was so strong in him, that it not only permitted him to +forget all past offenses, but even rendered him blind to any fresh +wrongs. It sufficed to have been kind to him once, to claim his +indulgence. The reader remembers that Jeffrey had been the most cruel of +the persecutors of his early poems, but that later he had shown more +impartiality. This act of justice appeared to Byron a generous act, and +one sufficient for him in return to forget all the harm done to him in +the past. We accordingly find in his memoranda of 1814:—</p> + +<p>"It does honor to the editor (Jeffrey), because he once abused me: many +a man will retract praise; none but a high-spirited mind will revoke its +censure, or <i>can</i> praise the man it has once attacked."</p> + +<p>Yet Jeffrey, who was eminently a critic, gave fresh causes of +displeasure to Byron at a later period, and then it was that he forgot +the present on recalling the past.</p> + +<p>In speaking of this Scotch critic, he considered himself quite disarmed. +When at Venice, he heard that he had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245] </a></span> attacked about Coleridge in +the "Edinburgh Review," he wrote as follows to Murray:—</p> + +<p>"The article in the 'Edinburgh Review' on Coleridge, I have not seen; +but whether I am attacked in it or not, or in any other of the same +journal, I shall never think ill of Mr. Jeffrey on that account, nor +forget that his conduct toward me has been certainly most handsome +during the last four or more years."<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></p> + +<p>And instead of complaining of this attack, he laughed at it with +Moore:—</p> + +<p>"The 'Edinburgh Review' had attacked me.... Et tu, Jeffrey! 'there is +nothing but roguery in villainous man.' But I absolve him of all +attacks, present and future; for I think he had already pushed his +clemency in my behoof to the utmost, and I shall always think well of +him. I only wonder he did not begin before, as my domestic destruction +was a fine opening for all who wished to avail themselves of the +opportunity."<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p> + +<p>His great sympathy for Walter Scott became quite enthusiastic, owing +also to a feeling of gratitude for a service rendered to him by Scott. +Shortly after his arrival in Italy, and the publication of the third +canto of "Childe Harold," public opinion in England went completely +against him, and an article appeared in the "Quarterly Review," by an +anonymous pen, in his defense. Byron was so touched by this, that he +endeavored to find out the name of its writer.</p> + +<p>"I can not," he said to Murray, "express myself better than in the words +of my sister Augusta, who (speaking of it) says, 'that it is written in +a spirit of the most feeling and kind nature.' It is, however, something +more: it seems to me (as far as the subject of it may be permitted to +judge) to be very well written as a composition, and I think will do the +journal no discredit; because, even those who condemn its partiality, +must praise its generosity. The temptations to take another and a less +favorable view of the question have been so great and numerous, that +what with public opinion, politics, etc., he must be a gallant as well +as a good man, who has ventured in that place, and at this time, to +write such an article even anonymously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246] </a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps, some day or other, you will know or tell me the writer's name. +Be assured, had the article been a harsh one, I should not have asked +it."</p> + +<p>He afterward learnt that the article had been written by Walter Scott, +and his sympathy was so increased by his gratitude for the service +rendered, that he never after seemed happier than when he could extol +Scott's talents and kindness.</p> + +<p>Gratitude, which often weighs upon one as a duty, so captivated his +soul, that the remembrance of the kindness done to him was wont to turn +into an affectionate devotion, which time could not change. Long after +the appearance of the article, he wrote as follows to Scott from Pisa:—</p> + +<p>"I owe to you far more than the usual obligations for the courtesies of +literature and common friendship, for you went out of your way in 1817 +to do me a service, when it required, not merely kindness, but courage +to do so; to have been mentioned by you, in such a manner, would have +been a proud memorial at any time, but at such a time, 'when all the +world and his wife,' as the proverb goes, were trying to trample upon +me, was something still more complimentary to my self-esteem. Had it +been a common criticism, however eloquent or panegyrical, I should have +felt pleased, undoubtedly, and grateful, but not to the extent which the +extraordinary good-heartedness of the whole proceeding must induce in +any mind capable of such sensations. The very tardiness of this +acknowledgment will, at least, show that I have not forgotten the +obligation; and I can assure you, that my sense of it has been out at +compound interest during the delay."</p> + +<p>Gratitude, with him, was oftentimes a magnifying-glass which he used +when he had to appreciate certain merits. No doubt Gifford was a +judicious, clear-sighted, and impartial critic, but Byron extolled him +as an oracle of good taste, and submitted like a child to his decisions.</p> + +<p>Gratitude levelled every social condition in his eyes, as we may see by +his correspondence with Murray, where the proud aristocrat considers his +publisher on a par with himself. Moore marvelled at this; but Moore +forgets that Murray was no ordinary publisher, and that, generous by +nature, he made to Byron on one occasion, in 1815, when the noble poet +was in great difficulties, the handsomest offers. Lord Byron refused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247] </a></span> +them; but the act was so noble, that its impression was never effaced +from Byron's mind, and modified the nature of their relations.</p> + +<p>When he had recovered his fortune, he wrote to Murray from Ravenna:—"I +only know of three men who would have raised a finger on my behalf; and +one of those is yourself. It was in 1815, when I was not even sure of a +five-pound note. I refused your offer, but have preserved the +recollection of it, though you may have lost it."</p> + +<p>To calculate the degree of gratitude due to a service rendered, would +have seemed ingratitude in his eyes. He could create beings who were +capable of doling it out in that way, but to apply it to himself was an +impossibility.</p> + +<p>His predilection for the inhabitants of Epirus, of Albania, and for the +Suliotes, is known. This predilection originated in the gratitude which +he felt for the care taken of him by two Albanian servants who doted on +him, during an illness which he had at Patras at the time when he +visited that place for the first time. It was also on the Albanian coast +that he was wrecked on one occasion, and where he received that +hospitality which he has immortalized in Don Juan.</p> + +<p>Byron's predilection for this people even overcame the effects which +their ingratitude might have produced, for it is matter of history, how +badly the barbarous Suliotes behaved to him at Missolonghi a short time +before his death; they who had been so benefited by his kindness to +them.</p> + +<p>The memory of services done to him was not susceptible of change, and +neither time nor distance could in the least affect it. The moment he +had contracted a debt of gratitude, he believed himself obliged to pay +interest upon it all his life, even had he discharged his debt. One +single anecdote will serve to illustrate the truth of these remarks. On +the eve of his last departure from London in 1816, when the cruelty of +his enemies, powerfully seconded by the spite of Lady Byron, had +succeeded in so perverting facts as to give their calumnies the color of +truth, and to throw upon his conduct as a husband so false a light as to +hold him up to universal execration, it required great courage to +venture on his defense. Lady Jersey did it. She—who was then quite the +mistress of fashion by her beauty, her youth, her rank, her fortune,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248] </a></span> +and her irreproachable conduct—organized a fête in honor of Byron, and +invited all that was most distinguished in London to come and wish Byron +farewell.</p> + +<p>Among those who responded to the noble courage of Lady Jersey was one +equally deserving of praise, Miss Mercer, now Lady K——. This conduct +of Miss Mercer was all the more creditable that there had been a +question of her marriage with Lord Byron, and that Miss Milbank had been +preferred to her.</p> + +<p>This party gave Byron a great insight into the human heart, and showed +him all its beauty and all its baseness. The reflections which it caused +him to make, and the frank account he gave of it in his memoirs—(the +loss of which can never be too much regretted)—would not have pleased +his survivors. This was unquestionably a powerful reason why the memoirs +were destroyed. But Byron cared not so much for the painful portion of +this recollection, as he loved to remember the noble conduct of these +two ladies.</p> + +<p>"How often he spoke to me of Lady Jersey, of her beauty and her +goodness," says Madame G——. "As to Miss M——," he said, "she was a +woman of elevated ideas, who had shown him more friendship than he +deserved."</p> + +<p>One of the noblest tributes of gratitude and admiration which can be +rendered to a woman was paid by Lord Byron to Miss Mercer. As he was +embarking at Dover, Byron turned round to Mr. Scroope Davies, who was +with him, and giving him a little parcel which he had forgotten to give +her when in London, he added: "Tell her that had I been fortunate enough +to marry a woman like her, I should not now be obliged to exile myself +from my country."</p> + +<p>"If," pursues Arthur Dudley (evidently a name adopted by a very +distinguished woman biographer), "the rare instances of devotion which +he met in life reconciled him to humanity, with what touching glory used +he not to repay it. The last accents of the illustrious fugitive will +not be forgotten, and history will preserve through centuries the name +of her to whom Byron at such a time could send so flattering a message."</p> + +<p>But, as if all this were not enough, he actually consecrated in verse, a +short time before his death, the memory of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249] </a></span> gratitude to the noble +women who had done so much honor to their sex:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"I've also seen some female <i>friends</i> ('tis odd,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But true—as, if expedient, I could prove),</span><br /> +That faithful were through thick and thin abroad,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At home, far more than ever yet was Love—</span><br /> +Who did not quit me when Oppression trod<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon me; whom no scandal could remove;</span><br /> +Who fought, and fight, in absence, too, my battles,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Despite the snake Society's loud rattles."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>It was on that occasion that Hobhouse said to Lady Jersey, "Who would +not consent to be attacked in this way, to boast such a defense?" To +which Lady Jersey might have replied, "But who would not be sufficiently +rewarded by such gratitude, preserved in such a heart and immortalized +in such verses?"</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>IMPULSES OF LORD BYRON.</b></p> + +<p>All those who have studied human nature agree that impulses show the +natural qualities of the soul. "Beware of your first impulses, they are +always true," said a diplomatist, the same who insisted that speech was +given us to conceal our thoughts. If such be the case, Lord Byron's +goodness of heart is palpable, for all who knew him agree in bearing +testimony to the extraordinary goodness of all his impulses. "His +lordship," says Parry, "was keenly sensitive at the recital of any case +of distress, in the first instance; and advantage being taken of this +feeling immediately, he would always relieve it when in his power. If +this passion, however, was allowed to cool, he was no longer to be +excited. This was a fault of Lord Byron's, as he frequently offered, +upon the impulse of a moment, assistance which he would not afterward +give, and therefore occasionally compromise his friends."</p> + +<p>To multiply quotations would only be to repeat the same proof. I shall +therefore merely add that it was often the necessity of modifying the +nobility of his first impulses which made him appear inconstant and +changeable.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>EFFECTS OF HAPPINESS AND MISFORTUNE UPON BYRON.</b></p> + +<p>"The effect of a great success," writes some one, "is ever bad in bad +natures, but does good only to such as are really good in themselves."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250] </a></span></p> + +<p>As the rays of the sun soften the honey and harden the mud, so the rays +of happiness soften a good and tender heart, while they harden a base +and egotistical nature. This proof has not been wanting in Byron. His +wonderful successes, which laid at his feet the homage of nations, and +which might easily have made him vain and proud, only rendered him +better, more amiable, and brighter.</p> + +<p>"I am happy," said Dallas, on the occasion of the great success which +greeted the publication of the first canto of "Childe Harold," "to think +that his triumph, and the attention which he has attracted, have already +produced upon him the soothing effect I had hoped. He was very lively to +day."</p> + +<p>Moore says the same; and Galt is obliged to grant that, as Byron became +the object of public curiosity, his desire to oblige others increased. +After giving a personal proof of Byron's goodness to him, he ends by +saying:—</p> + +<p>"His conversation was then so lively, that gayety seemed to have passed +into habit with him." It was also at that time that he wrote in his +memoranda:—"I love Ward, I love A——, I love B——," and then, as if +afraid of those numerous sympathies, he adds: "oh! shall I begin to love +the whole world?" This universal love was only the expression of the +want of his soul which had mollified under the rays of that mild sun +which is called happiness.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>EFFECTS OF MISFORTUNE AND INJUSTICE UPON BYRON.</b></p> + +<p>If his natural goodness had so large a field to develop itself in +happiness, it reached a degree of sublimity in misfortune.</p> + +<p>That Byron's short life was full of real sorrows, I have shown in +another chapter, when I had to prove their reality against those +imputations of their being imaginary made by some of his biographers. He +required a strength of mind equal to his genius and to his sensibility, +to be able to resist the numerous ills with which he was assailed, +throughout his life:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Have I not had to wrestle with my lot?<br /> +Have I not suffered things to be forgiven?<br /> +Have I not had my brain sear'd, my heart riven,<br /> +Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, Life's life lied away?"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251] </a></span></div> + +<p>Such beautiful lines speak loudly enough of the intensity of his +sufferings. Great as they were, they did not, however, produce in him +any feeling of hatred. To forgive was his only revenge; and not only did +he forgive, but, the paroxysm of passion over, there was only room in +his soul for those nobler feelings of patience, of toleration, of +resignation, and of abnegation, of which no one in London can have +formed a notion. The storms to which his soul was at times a prey only +purified it, and discovered a host of qualities which are kept back +often by the more powerful passions of youth. If he never attained that +calmness of spirit which is the gift of those who can not feel, or +perhaps of the saints, he at any rate, at the age of thirty-two, began +to feel a contempt of all worldly and frivolous matters, and came to the +resolution of forgiving most generously all offenses against him.</p> + +<p>Shelley, who went to see him at Ravenna, wrote to his wife "that if he +had mischievous passions he seemed to have subdued them; and that he was +becoming, what he should be,—a <i>virtuous man</i>."</p> + +<p>Mme. de Bury, in her excellent essay upon Byron, expresses herself thus: +"Had his natural goodness not been great, the events which compelled him +to leave his country, and which followed upon his departure, must have +exercised over his mind the effect of drying it up; and, in lessening +its power, would have forced him to give full vent to his passions." +Instead of producing such a result, they on the contrary purified it, +and developed in him the germs of a host of virtues. I shall not tarry +any longer, however, on this subject, as in another chapter I intend to +consider Byron's kindness of disposition from a far higher point of +view. I shall only add his own words, which prove his goodness of +character. "I can not," said he, "bear malice to any one, nor can I go +to sleep with an ill thought against any body."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>ABSENCE OF ALL JEALOUS FEELINGS IN LORD BYRON.</b></p> + +<p>Among the infirmities of human nature, one of the most general, serious, +and incurable, is certainly that of jealousy. Being the essence of a +disordered self-love, it presents several aspects, according to the +different social positions of those whom it afflicts, and the degree of +goodness of the people. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252] </a></span> might, in my mind, almost be called the +thermometer of the heart. But of all the jealousies, that which has done +most harm on earth has been the jealousy of artists and of literary men.</p> + +<p>This kind of fever has at times risen to a degree inconceivable. It has +raged so high as to call poison to its aid, to invoke the help of +daggers and create assassins.</p> + +<p>But even putting aside these excesses, proper to Southern countries, it +is certain that everywhere and at all times jealousy has caused +numberless cases of ingratitude, and has set brothers against brothers, +friends against friends, and pupils against masters.</p> + +<p>Great minds in France have not been altogether free from it. Corneille, +Racine, Voltaire, became a prey to its disastrous influences. In England +Dryden, Addison, Swift, Shaftesbury, were its victims. So it has been +everywhere, and in Italy even Petrarch, the meek and excellent Petrarch, +was not exempted from it.</p> + +<p>This moral infirmity is of so subtle a nature, that not only does it +injure those who are devoted to those works of the mind, which can not +be said to establish a solid claim to glory inasmuch as public opinion +is judge, but also those whose influence being confined to a more +limited sphere, should be less anxious about obtaining it. It finds so +easy an access into the souls of men, that it is said that even Plato +was jealous of Socrates, Aristotle of Plato, Leibnitz of Locke, and so +forth.</p> + +<p>When we behold so many great minds at all times unable to avoid this +jealousy, and that we see nowadays jealousy animating the pen of some of +the best writers, and completely changing their moral sense, must we not +admire the great goodness of him whom, though living in such a heated +atmosphere of jealous rivalry, contrived wholly to escape its effects?</p> + +<p>This right I claim for Lord Byron, that he was the least jealous of any +man, as the proofs which I shall bring forward will abundantly attest.</p> + +<p>If Byron was jealous of the living, of whom could he have been so? Of +course of such who may have become his rivals in the sphere of +literature which he had adopted. When Byron appeared in the literary +world, those who were most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253] </a></span> in repute were Sir Walter Scott, Rogers, +Moore, Campbell, and the lakers Southey, Wordsworth, Coleridge, and, +later, Shelley.</p> + +<p>On one occasion, in 1813, Byron amused himself by tracing what he called +a "triangular gradus ad Parnassum," in which the names of the principal +poets then in renown are thus classified:—</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap"> +Sir W. Scott,<br /> +Rogers,<br /> +Moore, Campbell,<br /> +Southey, Wordsworth, Coleridge,<br /> +The Many<br /> +</span> +</p> + +<p>To know best his feelings with respect to his rivals, we must listen to +himself; and to preserve the order given in the triangle, let us begin +by Walter Scott. We read in Byron's memorandum of the 17th of September, +1813:—</p> + +<p>"George Ellis and Murray have been talking something about Scott and me, +George <i>pro</i> Scoto—and very right too. If they want to depose him, I +only wish they would not set me up as a competitor. Even if I had my +choice, I would rather be the Earl of Warwick than all the kings he ever +made! Jeffrey and Gifford I take to be the monarch-makers in poetry and +prose. I like Scott—and admire his works to what Mr. Braham calls +Entusymusy. All such stuff can only vex him, and do me no good."</p> + +<p>And elsewhere: "I have not answered W. Scott's last letter, but I will. +I regret to hear from others that he has lately been unfortunate in +pecuniary involvements. He is undoubtedly the Monarch of Parnassus, and +the most English of bards."</p> + +<p>When these expressions were written, Byron did not know Scott +personally; but notwithstanding his satire, of which he had often made a +generous retractation, he had always felt a great sympathy for Scott, +who, on the other hand, appeared to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254] </a></span> have forgotten the wound inflicted +by Byron's youthful pen, only to remember the latter's heartfelt +praises.</p> + +<p>A few years after the publication of "English Bards" and just after that +of "Childe Harold," Byron and Sir W. Scott manifested a mutual desire to +make each other's acquaintance through the medium of Murray, who was +then travelling in Scotland. An exchange of letters full of mutual +generosity had taken place, when George IV., then regent, expressed the +wish to make Byron's acquaintance.</p> + +<p>After speaking to him of "Childe Harold," in terms which Byron was +always proud to recall, the prince went on to speak of Walter Scott in +the most enthusiastic terms. Byron seemed almost as pleased as if the +praise had been addressed to himself, and hastened to make his +illustrious rival acquainted with the flattering words used by royalty +with regard to him.</p> + +<p>It was only in the summer of 1815 that they became personally +acquainted. Scott was then passing through London on his way to France. +Their sympathy was mutual. Byron, who had been married seven months, +already foresaw that a storm was brewing in his domestic affairs, which +explains the mysterious melancholy, observed by Scott, upon the +countenance of his young friend. Scott's liveliness, however, always +brought about a return of Byron's spirits, and their meetings were +always very gay, "the gayest even," says Scott, "that I ever spent."</p> + +<p>Byron's handsomeness produced a great impression upon Scott. "It is a +beauty," said he, "which causes one to reflect and to dream;" as if he +wished one to understand that he thought Byron's beauty superhuman.</p> + +<p>"Report had prepared me to meet a man of peculiar habits and a quick +temper, and I had some doubt whether we were likely to suit each other +in society. I was most agreeably disappointed in this respect. I found +Lord Byron in the highest degree courteous, and even kind.</p> + +<p>"Like the old heroes in Homer, we exchanged gifts: I gave Byron a +beautiful dagger mounted with gold, which had been the property of the +redoubted Elfi Bey. But I was to play the part of Diomed in the Iliad, +for Byron sent me, some time after, a large sepulchral vase of silver. +It was full of dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255] </a></span> men's bones, and had inscriptions on the sides of +the base. One ran thus:—"The bones contained in this urn were found in +certain ancient sepulchres within the land walls of Athens in the month +of February, 1811. The other face bears the lines of Juvenal—</p> + +<p class="center"> +'Expende quot libras in duce summo invenies.<br /> +Mors sola fatetur quantula hominum corpuscula.'<br /> +</p> + +<p>"A letter," adds W. Scott, "accompanied this vase, which was more +valuable to me than the gift itself, from the kindness with which the +donor expressed himself toward me. I left it, naturally, in the urn with +the bones, but it is now missing. As the theft was not of a nature to be +practiced by a mere domestic, I am compelled to suspect the +inhospitality of some individual of higher station,—most gratuitously +exercised certainly, since, after what I have here said, no one will +probably choose to boast of possessing this literary curiosity."</p> + +<p>Their mutual sympathy increased upon improved acquaintance with one +another. When at Venice Byron was informed that Scott was ill, he said +that he would not for all the world have him ill. "I suppose it is from +sympathy that I have suffered from fever at the same time." At Ravenna a +little later, on the 12th of January, 1821, he wrote down in his +memoranda:—</p> + +<p>"Scott is certainly the most wonderful writer of the day. His novels are +a new literature in themselves, and his poetry as good as any, if not +better (only on an erroneous system), and only ceased to be so popular, +because the vulgar learned were tired of hearing Aristides called the +Just, and Scott the Best, and ostracized them.</p> + +<p>"I like him, too, for his manliness of character, for the extreme +pleasantness of his conversation, and his good-nature toward myself +personally. May he prosper! for he deserves it.</p> + +<p>"I know no reading to which I fall with such alacrity as a work of W. +Scott's. I shall give the seal with his bust on it to Mlle. la Comtesse +Guiccioli this evening, who will be curious to have the effigies of a +man so celebrated."</p> + +<p>He did take the seal to the Countess Guiccioli, and she said that +Byron's expressions about Scott were always most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256] </a></span> affectionate. "How I +wish you knew him!" he often repeated.</p> + +<p>He used to say that it was not the poetry of "Child Harold," but Scott's +own superior prose that had done his poetry harm, and that if ever the +public could by chance get tired of his novels, Scott might write in +verse with equal success. He insisted that Scott had a dramatic talent, +"talent," he said, "which people are loth to grant me." He said that the +success of Scott's novels was not in the least due to the anonymous +character he had adopted, and that he could not understand why he would +not sign his name to works of such merit. He likewise asserted that of +all the authors of his period, Scott was the least jealous. "He is too +sure of his fame to fear any rivals, nor does he think of good works as +Tuscans do of fever; that there is only a certain amount of it in the +world, and that in communicating it to others, one gets rid of it."</p> + +<p>"I never travel without taking Scott's novels with me," said Byron to +Medwin, at Pisa; "it is a real library, a literary treasure; I can read +them yearly with renewed pleasure."</p> + +<p>A few days before his departure for Greece, he learned that M. Stendhall +had published an article upon Racine and Shakspeare, wherein there were +some unfavorable remarks about Walter Scott.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding his occupations preparatory to departure, he found time +to write to Stendhall, and tell him how much he felt the injustice of +these remarks, and to request that they should be rectified.</p> + +<p>This letter of Byron's to M. Beyle will no doubt be read with universal +admiration, as it points out most prominently all the goodness of his +character:—</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—Now that I know to whom I am indebted for a very flattering +mention in the 'Rome, Naples, and Florence, in 1817,' by Monsieur +Stendhall, it is fit that I should return my thanks (however undesired +or undesirable) to Monsieur Beyle, with whom I had the honor of being +acquainted at Milan in 1816.<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> You only did me too much honor in what +you were pleased to say in that work, but it has hardly given<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257] </a></span> +me less pleasure than the praise itself, to become at length aware +(which I have done by mere accident) that I am indebted for it to one of +whose good opinion I was really ambitious. So many changes have taken +place since that period in the Milan circle, that I hardly dare recur to +it—some dead, some banished, and some in the Austrian dungeons. Poor +Pelico! I trust that in his iron solitude his muse is consoling him in +some measure, one day to delight us again, when both she and her poet +are restored to freedom.</p> + +<p>"There is one part of your observations in the pamphlet, which I shall +venture to remark upon: it regards Walter Scott. You say that 'his +character is little worthy of enthusiasm,' at the same time that you +mention his productions in the manner they deserve. I have known Walter +Scott long and well, and in occasional situations which call forth the +real character, and I can assure you that his character <i>is</i> worthy of +admiration; that of all men, he is the most open, the most honorable, +the most amiable," etc.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>."</p> + +<p>Even at Missolonghi, where certainly literary thoughts were little in +harmony with his occupations, Byron found occasion to speak of his +sentiments as regards Scott, since even the simple and anti-poetic Parry +tells us, in his interesting narrative of "The Last Days of Lord Byron," +of the admiration and affection with which Byron always spoke of Walter +Scott. "He never wearied of his praise of 'Waverley,' and continually +quoted passages from it."</p> + +<p>May we be allowed to observe, in conclusion, that such a generous desire +on the part of Byron constantly to put forward the merits of Scott +deserved from the latter a warmer acknowledgment. The homage paid to his +memory by Scott came late, and is cold. Be it from a Tory or Protestant +spirit, Scott in his eulogy of Lord Byron did not disclaim openly the +calumnies uttered against the great poet's fame, but almost sided with +his hypocritical apologists, by assuming a kind of tone of indulgence in +speaking of him.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>ROGERS.</b></p> + +<p>Rogers comes next in the triangular order.</p> + +<p>Byron's esteem for Rogers was such, that not only did he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258] </a></span> spare him in +his famous satire, but even addressed him a real compliment in the +lines:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"And thou, melodious Rogers! rise at last,<br /> +Recall the pleasing memory of the past;<br /> +Arise! let blest remembrance still inspire,<br /> +And strike to wonted tones thy hallow'd lyre;<br /> +Restore Apollo to his vacant throne,<br /> +Assert thy country's honor and thine own."<br /> +</div> + +<p>He equally declared that, after the "Essay on Man" of Pope, the +"Pleasures of Memory" constituted the finest English didactic poem. This +opinion he maintained always.</p> + +<p>"I have read again the 'Pleasures of Memory,'" he wrote in September, +1813. "The elegance of this poem is quite marvellous. Not a vulgar line +throughout the whole book."</p> + +<p>About the same time he read, in the "Edinburgh Review," a eulogy of +Rogers. "He is placed very high," he exclaimed, "but not higher than he +has a right to be. There is a summary review of every body. Moore and I +included: we were both—he justly—praised; but both very justly ranked +under Rogers.</p> + +<p>At another time he wrote in his memoranda:</p> + +<p>"When he does talk (Rogers), on all subjects of taste, his delicacy of +expression is as pure as his poetry. If you enter his house, his +drawing-room, his library, you involuntarily say, 'This is not the +dwelling of a common mind.' There is not a gem, a coin, a book, thrown +aside on his chimney-piece, his sofa, his table, that does not bespeak +an almost fastidious elegance in the possessor. But this very delicacy +must be the misery of his existence. Oh! the jarrings this disposition +must have encountered through life!"</p> + +<p>On one occasion he borrows one of Rogers's ideas, to write upon it the +"Bride of Abydos;" and in confessing that the "Pleasures of Memory" have +suggested his theme, he adds in a note, that "it is useless to say that +the idea is taken from a poem so well known, and to which one has such +pleasurable recourse."</p> + +<p>To Rogers he dedicates the "Giaour," a slight but sincere token of +admiration.</p> + +<p>When Rogers sent him "Jacqueline," Byron replied that he could not +receive a more acceptable gift. "It is grace,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259] </a></span> delicacy, poetry itself." +What astonishes him is that Rogers should not be tempted to write +oftener such charming poetry. He sympathized with that kind of soft +affection, though he would say that he lacked the talent to express it.</p> + +<p>From Venice he wrote to Moore, "I hope Rogers is flourishing. He is the +Titan of poetry, already immortal. You and I must wait to become so."</p> + +<p>At Pisa he took the part of Rogers against his detractors in the warmest +manner. Not only did the "Pleasures of Memory" always enchant him, not +only did he insist that the work was immortal, but added that Rogers was +kind and good to him. And as people persisted in blaming Rogers for +being jealous and susceptible, which Byron knew from experience to be +so, he replied, that "these things are, as Lord Kenyon said of Erskine, +little spots in the sun. Rogers has qualities which outweigh the little +weaknesses of his character."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>MOORE.</b></p> + +<p>Moore is third in the order of the triangle. We have seen Byron's +sentiments and conduct with regard to this friend. It remains for us to +note the feelings of the author for another very popular writer, who was +in many respects a worthy rival.</p> + +<p>Byron had often recommended Moore to write other poetry than melodies, +and to apply his talent to a work of more serious importance. When he +learned that he was writing an Oriental poem he was charmed.</p> + +<p>"It may be, and would appear to a third person," he wrote to him, "an +incredible thing; but I know <i>you</i> will believe me, when I say that I am +as anxious for your success as one human being can be for another's—as +much as if I had never scribbled a line. Surely the field of fame is +wide enough for all; and if it were not, I would not willingly rob my +neighbor of a rood of it."</p> + +<p>And he goes on to praise Moore and to depreciate himself, as was his +custom.</p> + +<p>After two years' intimacy he dedicated the "Corsair" to Moore, and, in +speaking of it to him, he adds:—</p> + +<p>"If I can but testify to you and the world how truly I admire and esteem +you, I shall be quite satisfied."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260] </a></span></p> + +<p>And, in dedicating his work to him, he expresses himself thus:—</p> + +<p>"My praise could add nothing to your well-earned and firmly-established +fame, and with my most hearty admiration of your talents, and delight in +your conversation, you are already acquainted."</p> + +<p>I have already said that he almost wished to be eclipsed, that Moore +might shine the more prominently.</p> + +<p>"The best way to make the public 'forget' me is to remind them of +yourself. You can not suppose that I would ask you or advise you to +publish, if I thought you would <i>fail</i>. I really have no literary envy; +and I do not believe a friend's success ever sat nearer another's heart, +than yours does to the wishes of mine. It is for <i>elderly gentlemen</i> to +'bear no brother near,' and can not become our disease for more years +than we may perhaps number. I wish you to be out before Eastern subjects +are again before the public."</p> + +<p>He meanwhile got Murray to use his influence to point out to Moore the +best time for appearing.</p> + +<p>"I need not say, that I have his success much at heart; not only because +he is my friend, but something much better—a man of great talent, of +which he is less sensible than, I believe, any even of his enemies. If +you can so far oblige me as to step down, do so," etc.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron had never ceased to press Moore to publish his poem. When it +appeared, he wrote to him from Venice:—</p> + +<p>"I am glad that we are to have it at last. Really and truly, I want you +to make a great hit, if only out of self-love, because we happen to be +old cronies; and I have no doubt you will—I am sure you <i>can</i>. But you +are, I'll be sworn, in a devil of a pucker, and I am not at your elbow, +and Rogers <i>is</i>. I envy him; which is not fair, because he does <i>not +envy any body</i>.<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> Mind you send to me—that is, make Murray send—the +moment you are forth."</p> + +<p>"I feel as anxious for Moore as I could do for myself, for the soul of +me; and I would not have him succeed otherwise than splendidly, which I +trust he will do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261] </a></span></p> + +<p>And then, writing again to Murray, from Venice (June, 1817):—</p> + +<p>"It gives me great pleasure to hear of Moore's success, and the more so +that I never doubted that it would be complete. Whatever good you can +tell me of him and his poem will be most acceptable; I feel very anxious +indeed to receive it. I hope that he is as happy in his fame and reward +as I wish him to be; for I know no one who deserves both more, if any so +much."</p> + +<p>A month later he added:—</p> + +<p>"I have got the sketch and extracts from 'Lalla Rookh'—which I humbly +suspect will knock up ..." (he intended himself), "and show young +gentlemen that something more than having been across a camel's hump is +necessary to write a good Oriental tale. The plan, as well as the +extracts I have seen, please me very much indeed, and I feel impatient +for the whole."</p> + +<p>And, lastly, after he had received it:—</p> + +<p>"I have read 'Lalla Rookh.' ... I am very glad to hear of his +popularity, for Moore is a very noble fellow, in all respects, and will +enjoy it without any of the bad feelings which success, good or evil, +sometimes engenders in the men of rhyme."</p> + +<p>He wrote to Moore from Ravenna, in a sort of jest,—"I am not quite sure +that I shall allow the Miss Byrons to read 'Lalla Rookh,'—in the first +place, on account of this sad <i>passion</i>, and in the second, that they +mayn't discover that there was a better poet than Papa."<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p> + +<p>To end these quotations, let us add that, shortly before his death, he +said to Medwin:—"Moore is one of the small number of writers, who will +survive the century which has appreciated his worth. The Irish Melodies +will go to posterity with their music, and the poems and the music will +last as long as Ireland, or music or poetry."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>CAMPBELL.</b></p> + +<p>Campbell, the author of "Pleasures of Hope," and who stands fourth in +the triangle, was spared, with Rogers, in the famous satire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262] </a></span>—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Come forth, oh! Campbell, give thy talents scope:<br /> +Who dare aspire, if thou must cease to hope?"<br /> +</div> + +<p>This homage was strengthened by a note, in which Byron called the +"Pleasures of Hope" one of the finest didactic poems in the English +language.</p> + +<p>Byron's relations with Campbell were never as intimate as with other +poets. Not only because circumstances prevented it, but also in +consequence of a fault in Campbell's character, which lessened the +sympathy raised by the admiration of his talent and of his worth. This +fault consisted in an <i>excessive</i> opinion of himself, which prevented +his being just toward his rivals, and bearing patiently with their +successes, or the criticisms of his own work.</p> + +<p>Coleridge at this time was giving lectures upon poetry, in which he +taught a new system of poetry.</p> + +<p>"He attacks," says Lord Byron, "the 'Pleasures of Hope,' and all other +pleasure whatever.... Campbell will be desperately annoyed. I never saw +a man (and of him I have seen very little) so sensitive. What a happy +temperament! I am sorry for it; what can <i>he</i> fear from criticism?"</p> + +<p>Lord Byron had just published the "Bride of Abydos," when he wrote in +his journal, "Campbell last night seemed a little nettled at something +or other—I know not what. We were standing in the ante-saloon, when +Lord H—— brought out of the other room a vessel of some composition +similar to that which is used in Catholic churches for burning incense, +and seeing us, he exclaimed, 'Here is some incense for you.' Campbell +answered, 'Carry it to Lord Byron; he is used to it.'</p> + +<p>"Now this comes of 'bearing no brother near the throne.' I who have no +throne am at perfect peace with all the poetical fraternity."</p> + +<p>But if this weakness of Campbell lessened Byron's sympathy for him, or +rather interfered with his intimacy, it never altered his just +appreciation of his merits, or made him less generous to him.</p> + +<p>"By-the-by," writes Byron to Moore, "Campbell has a printed poem which +is not yet published, the scene of which is laid in Germany. It is +perfectly magnificent, and equal to himself. I wonder why he does not +publish it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263] </a></span></p> + +<p>Later on, in Italy, when in his reply to Blackwood, Byron criticises +modern poetry, and gives, without sparing any body, not even himself, +his unbiased opinion about the poets of the day, he says: "We are all on +a false track, except Rogers, Campbell, and Crabbe."</p> + +<p>And in his memoranda in 1821, at Ravenna, we find the following +passage:——</p> + +<p>"Read Campbell's 'Poets' ... justly celebrated. His defense of Pope is +glorious. To be sure, it is his own cause too—but no matter, it is very +good, and does him great credit.... If any thing could add to my esteem +of this gentleman poet, it would be his classical defense of Pope +against the cant of the present day."</p> + +<p>On the fifth line of the triangle come the names of Southey, Wordsworth, +and Coleridge, commonly called the "Lakers," because they had resided +near the Lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland. He was certainly bitter +against these in his satire; but owing simply to their efforts to upset +the school of Pope, of which he had made a deep study, and to their +endeavors to start an æsthetical school, which he strenuously opposed. +As, however, in blaming, he allowed his passion at times to master his +opinions and judgments of their merits, he generously made amends and +owned his error some years later. He kept to his own notions of poetry +and art, but nobly recognized the talent of the Lakers, knowing, +however, very well that he would never obtain from them a reciprocity of +good feeling.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>SOUTHEY.</b></p> + +<p>"Yesterday, at Holland House, I was introduced to Southey,—the +best-looking bard I have seen for some time. To have that poet's head +and shoulders, I would almost have written his 'Sapphics.' He is +certainly a prepossessing person to look on, and a man of talent, and +all that—and—there is his eulogy."</p> + +<p>"Southey I have not seen much of. His appearance is epic; and he is the +only existing entire man of letters. His manners are mild, but not those +of a man of the world, and his talents of the first order. His prose is +perfect. Of his poetry there are various opinions: there is, perhaps, +too much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264] </a></span> of it for the present generation—posterity will probably +select. He has passages equal to any thing. At present he has a party, +but no public—except for his prose writings. The 'Life of Nelson' is +beautiful."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>WORDSWORTH.</b></p> + +<p>Underneath some lines of his satire upon Wordsworth, Byron in 1816 wrote +in Switzerland the word "unjust!"</p> + +<p>He often praised Wordsworth, even at times when the latter had, for +reasons which I will mention hereafter, lost all claims to Byron's +indulgence. Even in his poem of the "Island," written shortly before his +departure for Greece, where he was to die, Byron found means of +inserting a passage from Wordsworth's poem, which he considered +exquisite.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>COLERIDGE.</b></p> + +<p>Among the three Lakers, Coleridge was the one to whom he showed the most +generous feeling. He was poor, and lived by his pen. Lord Byron, putting +this consideration above all others, wished to assist at his readings, +and praised them warmly. Coleridge having asked him on one occasion to +interest himself with the director of Drury-lane Theatre (on the +committee of which Byron then stood) the latter did his best to gratify +the wishes of Coleridge, and wrote him the most flattering letter, +blaming the satire which had been the effect of a youthful ebullition of +feeling:—</p> + +<p>"P.S.—You mention my 'satire,' lampoon, or whatever you or others +please to call it. I can only say that it was written when I was very +young and very angry, and has been a thorn in my side ever since; more +particularly as almost all the persons animadverted upon became +subsequently my acquaintances, and some of them my friends, which is +'heaping fire upon an enemy's head,' and forgiving me too readily to +permit me to forgive myself. The part applied to you is pert, and +petulant, and shallow enough; but, although I have long done every thing +in my power to suppress the circulation of the whole thing, I shall +always regret the wantonness or generality of many of its attacks. If +Coleridge writes his promised tragedy, Drury Lane will be set up." +Though harassed with pecuniary difficulties of all kinds, Byron +contrived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265] </a></span> to help Coleridge, who he had heard was in the greatest +distress.</p> + +<p>He wrote to Moore:—"By the way, if poor Coleridge—who is a man of +wonderful talent, and in distress, and about to publish two volumes of +poesy and biography, and who has been worse used by the critics than +ever we were—will you, if he comes out, promise me to review him +favorably in the E.R.? Praise him I think you must; but will you also +praise him well,—of all things the most difficult? It will be the +making of him.</p> + +<p>"This must be a secret between you and me, as Jeffrey might not like +such a project: nor, indeed, might he himself like it. But I do think he +only wants a pioneer and a spark or two to explode most gloriously."</p> + +<p>He sent Murray a MS. tragedy of Coleridge, begging him to read it and to +publish it:——</p> + +<p>"When you have been enabled to form an opinion on Mr. Coleridge's MS., +you will oblige me by returning it, as, in fact, I have no authority to +let it out of my hands. I think most highly of it, and feel anxious that +you should be the publisher; but if you are not, I do not despair of +finding those who will."</p> + +<p>As the reader knows, Byron, while in England, always gave away the +produce of his poems. To Coleridge he destined part of the sum offered +to him by Murray for "Parisina" and the "Siege of Corinth." Some +difficulty, however, having arisen, because Murray refused to pay the +100 guineas to any other than Byron himself, he borrowed it himself to +give it to Coleridge.</p> + +<p>At the same time Byron paid so noble a tribute to Coleridge's talent, +and to his poem of "Christabel," by inserting a note on the subject in +his preface to the "Siege of Corinth," that Coleridge's editor took this +note as the epigraph.</p> + +<p>"Christabel!—I won't have any one," he said, "sneer at 'Christabel;' it +is a fine wild poem."</p> + +<p>In 1816 he wrote from Venice to Moore:—</p> + +<p>"I hear that the E.R. has cut up Coleridge's 'Christabel,' and declared +against me for praising it. I praised it, firstly, because I thought +well of it; secondly, because Coleridge was in great distress, and after +doing what little I could for him in essentials, I thought that the +public avowal of my good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266] </a></span> opinion might help him further, at least with +the booksellers. I am very sorry that J—— has attacked him, because, +poor fellow, it will hurt him in mind and pocket. As for me, he's +welcome—I shall never think less of Jeffrey for any thing he may say +against me or mine in future."</p> + +<p>At Genoa he declared, in a memorandum, that Crabbe and Coleridge were +pre-eminent in point of power and talent.</p> + +<p>At Pisa he blamed those who refused to see in "Christabel" a work of +rare merit, notwithstanding the knowledge which he had of Coleridge's +ingratitude to him; and refused to believe that W. Scott did not admire +the poem, "for we all owe Coleridge a great deal," said he, "and even +Scott himself."</p> + +<p>And Medwin adds: "Lord Byron thinks Coleridge's poem very fine. He +paraphrased and imitated one passage. He considers the idea excellent, +and enters into it."</p> + +<p>And speaking of Coleridge's psychological poem, he said: "What perfect +harmony! 'Kubla Khan' delights me."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>SHELLEY.</b></p> + +<p>If Shelley did not find a place in the triangle, it is only because he +was not yet known, except by the eccentricities of his conduct as a boy. +But so soon as Byron was able to appreciate his genius, he lavished +praises upon the poet and the man, while he blamed his metaphysics.</p> + +<p>In all his letters we find proofs of his affectionate regard for +Shelley; and during his last days in Greece, he said to +Finlay,—"Shelley was really a most extraordinary genius; but those who +know him only from his works, know but half his merits: it was from his +thoughts and his conversation poor Shelley ought to be judged. He was +romance itself in his manners and his style of thinking."</p> + +<p>"You were all mistaken," he wrote from Pisa to Murray, "about Shelley, +who was, without exception, the best and least selfish man I ever knew."</p> + +<p>And when he learned his death, he wrote to Moore:—"There is thus +another man gone, about whom the world was ill-naturedly, and +ignorantly, and brutally mistaken. It will, perhaps, do him justice now, +when he can be no better for it."</p> + +<p>Such were Byron's expressions in behalf of poets of whose school he +disapproved, before the calumnies spread about, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267] </a></span> the perfidious +provocations of some, joined to the ingratitude and jealousy of others, +obliged him to turn his generosity into bitter retaliation. We will +speak elsewhere of this epoch in their mutual relations, and we hope to +show, if jealousy caused the change, that it sprang from them and not +from him.</p> + +<p>To praise was almost a besetting sin in Lord Byron. So amiable a fault +was not only committed in favor of his rivals, but also by way of +encouragement to young authors. What did he not do to promote the +success of M.N. N——, the author of Bertram's dramas, whom Walter Scott +had recommended to him?</p> + +<p>After reading a tragedy which a young man had submitted to him, Byron +wrote in his memoranda:——</p> + +<p>"This young man has talent; he has, no doubt, stolen his ideas from +another, but I shall not betray him. His critics will be but too prone +to proclaim it. I hate to discourage a beginner."</p> + +<p>Indulgent to mediocrity, compassionate with the weakness and defects of +all, incapable of causing the slightest pain to those who were destitute +of talent, even when art required that he should condemn them, his +goodness was such, that he almost felt remorse whenever he had been led +to criticise a work too severely. He deplored his having dealt too +harshly with poor Blackett, as soon as the latter's position became +known to him; and also with Keats, whose talent, though great, was raw +in many respects, and who had become a follower of the Lakist school, +which Byron abhorred.</p> + +<p>To praise the humble, however, in order to humble the great, was an +action incompatible with his noble character. Great minds constituted +his great attractions, and on these he bestowed such praise as could not +be deemed too partial or unjust.</p> + +<p>Happy in the unqualified praise of Pope, of the classical poets, of the +great German and Italian poets, he sometimes made exceptions, and +Shakspeare was one. This is not to be wondered at. Lord Byron's mind was +as well regulated as it was powerful. His admiration of Pope proves it.</p> + +<p>"As to Pope," he writes to Moore from Ravenna, in 1821, "I have always +regarded him as the greatest name in our Poetry. Depend upon it, the +rest are barbarians. He is a Greek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268] </a></span> temple, with a Gothic cathedral on +one hand, and a Turkish mosque and all sorts of fantastic pagodas and +conventicles about him. You may call Shakspeare and Milton pyramids, if +you please; but I prefer the Temple of Theseus, or the Parthenon, to a +mountain of burnt brick-work."<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></p> + +<p>Order and proportion were necessities of his nature, so much so that he +condemned his writings whenever they departed from his ideal of the +beautiful, the essential constituents of which were order and power.</p> + +<p>His admiration, therefore, was entirely centred in classical works. But +has not Shakspeare a little disregarded the eternal laws of the +beautiful observed by Homer, Pindar, and a host of other poets, ancient +and modern?</p> + +<p>If Byron, then, did not see in Shakspeare all that perfection which an +æsthetical school just sprung from the North attributed to him, was he +to be blamed? Has he, on this account, disregarded the great merits of +that glorious mind? Even had Byron seen in Shakspeare the founder of a +dramatic school, rather than a genius more powerful than orderly, who +acted against his will upon certain principles, and who scrutinized the +human heart to an almost supernatural depth, was he interdicted from +finding fault with that school?</p> + +<p>Does Shakspeare so economize both time and mind, as to make the action +of his dramas continuous, without fatiguing the mind or weakening the +dramatic effect? Are not the unities and the proportions disregarded in +his plays? What necessity is there at times to put one piece into +another? Are not his discussions and monologues too long? Does not his +own exuberant genius become a fatigue to himself and to his readers? Are +not, perhaps, his characters too real? and do they not often degenerate, +without motive, from the sublime into the ridiculous? Would Hamlet have +appeared less interesting or less mad had he not spoken indelicate and +cruel words to Ophelia? Would Laertes have seemed less grieved on +hearing of the death of his sister had he not made so unnecessary a play +on the words?</p> + +<p>Was not Byron, therefore, right when he said, with Pope, that Shakspeare +was "the worst of models?" And could he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269] </a></span> possibly be called jealous, +because he added that, "notwithstanding his defects, Shakspeare was +still the most extraordinary of men of genius?"</p> + +<p>This opinion of Byron was decidedly serious, though his opinions did not +always partake of that character. His humor was rather French: he liked +to laugh, to joke, to mystify, and astonish people who wished to +understand him. He used, then, to employ a particular measure in his +praise and his condemnation.</p> + +<p>"On one occasion at Missolonghi, and shortly before his death," says +Colonel Stanhope, "the drama was mentioned in conversation, and Byron at +once attacked Shakspeare by defending the unities. A gentleman present, +on hearing his anti-Shakspearean opinions rushed out of the room, and +afterward entered his protest most earnestly against such doctrines. +Lord Byron was quite delighted with this, and redoubled the severity of +his criticism.</p> + +<p>"He said once, when we were alone,—'I like to astonish Englishmen; they +come abroad full of Shakspeare, and contempt for the dramatic literature +of other nations. They think it blasphemy to find a fault in his +writings, which are full of them. People talk of my writings, and yet +read the sonnets to Master Hughes.'</p> + +<p>"And yet," continues Finlay, "he continually had the most melodious +lines of Shakspeare in his mouth, as examples of blank verse."</p> + +<p>The jealousy of Shakspeare attributed to Byron is, however, nothing when +compared to the ridiculous assertion, that he was jealous of Keats, +simply because he had repeated in joke what the papers and Shelley +himself, a friend of Keats, had said, namely, "that the young poet had +been killed by a criticism of the 'Quarterly.'"</p> + +<p>But since a French critic, M. Philarète Chasles, has made the same +accusation, we must pause and consider it.</p> + +<p>At the time when Byron was more than ever penetrated with the perfection +of Pope, and opposed to the romantic school,—at the time when he +himself wrote his dramas according to all classical rules,—he received +at Ravenna the poems of a young disciple of the Lakists, who united in +himself all their exaggerated faults. This young man had the +audacity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270] </a></span>—(which was almost unpardonable in the eyes of Byron)—to +despise Pope, and to constitute himself at nineteen a lawgiver of +poetical rules in England.</p> + +<p>Such ridiculous pride, added to the contempt shown to his idol, incensed +Byron and prevented his showing Keats the same indulgence he had shown +Maturin and Blackett. He spoke severely of Keats in his famous reply to +"Blackwood's Magazine," and to his Cambridge friends—followers of the +good old traditions. He quoted some lines of Keats, and remarked that +"they were taken from the book of a young man who was learning how to +write in verse, but who began by teaching others the art of poetry." +Then, after a long quotation, he adds—"What precedes will show the +ideas and principles professed by the regenerators of the English lyre +in regard to the man who most of any contributed to its harmony, and the +progress visible in their innovation."</p> + +<p>Let us not forget to add that he styled Keats "the tadpole of the +Lakists."</p> + +<p>But the following year, when he heard that Keats had died at Rome, the +victim of his inordinate self-love, and unable to be consoled for the +criticism directed against his poetry, he wrote the following heartfelt, +and, as it were, repentant words to Shelley:—</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry to hear what you say of Keats—is it <i>actually</i> true? I +did not think criticism had been so killing. Though I differ from you +essentially in your estimate of his performances, I so much abhor all +unnecessary pain, that I would rather he had been seated on the highest +peak of Parnassus than have perished in such a manner. Poor fellow! +though, with such inordinate self-love, he would probably have not been +very happy.... Had I known that Keats was dead, or that he was 'alive,' +and so 'sensitive,' I should have omitted some remarks upon his poetry, +to which I was provoked by his attack upon Pope, and my disapprobation +of his own style of writing."</p> + +<p>To Murray he wrote the same day:—</p> + +<p>"Is it true what Shelley writes me, that poor John Keats died at Rome of +the 'Quarterly Review?' I am very sorry for it; though I think he took +the wrong line as a poet, and was spoilt by Cockneyfying and suburbing, +and versifying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271] </a></span> Tooke's 'Pantheon' and Lemprière's 'Dictionary.' I know +by experience, that a savage review is hemlock to a sucking author; and +the one on me (which produced the 'English Bards,' etc.) knocked me +down; but I got up again. Instead of bursting a bloodvessel, I drank +three bottles of claret, and began an answer, finding that there was +nothing in the article for which I could lawfully knock Jeffrey on the +head, in an honorable way. However, I would not be the person who wrote +the homicidal article for all the honor and glory in the world, though I +by no means approve of that school of scribbling which it treats upon."</p> + +<p>Some time after he wrote again to Murray, saying,—"You know very well +that I did not approve of Keats's poetry, nor of his poetical +principles, nor of his abuse of Pope. But he is dead. I beg that you +will therefore omit all I have said of him either in my manuscripts or +in my publications. His 'Hyperion' is a fine monument, and will cause +his name to last. I do not envy the man who wrote the article against +Keats."</p> + +<p>Several months later he made complete amends. He added to his severe +article in answer to Blackwood, a note in the following terms:</p> + +<p>"I have read the article before and since; and although it is bitter, I +do not think that a man should permit himself to be killed by it. But a +young man little dreams what he must inevitably encounter in the course +of a life ambitious of public notice. My indignation at Mr. Keats's +depreciation of Pope has hardly permitted me do justice to his own +genius, which, <i>malgré</i> all the fantastic fopperies of his style, was +undoubtedly of great promise. His fragment of 'Hyperion' seems actually +inspired by the Titans, and is as sublime as Æschylus. He is a loss to +our literature; and the more so, as he himself, before his death, is +said to have been persuaded that he had not taken the right line, and +was reforming his style upon the more classical models of the language."</p> + +<p>Were we wrong in saying that the accusations against Byron, with respect +to Keats, did not deserve a notice? If we have noticed them, it has been +merely to show, that the French critic should have judged matters in +this instance with greater conscientiousness and reflection.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272] </a></span></p> + +<p>Influenced as Byron always was by his own ideas of beauty, he required +in the authors themselves certain moral qualities which would demand for +their works the bestowal of his praise. It was not only their talent, +but their loyalty, their independence of character, their political +consistency, and their perfect honesty, which endeared Walter Scott, +Moore, and others, to him.</p> + +<p>Byron, on the other hand, had never found these qualities in the +Lakists, and especially in the head of their school, whose whole life, +on the contrary, bore the marks of quite opposite characteristics. Since +Southey's dream of a life of intimacy with other poets of his school, +such as Wordsworth and Coleridge, in some blissful remote spot from +which they would publish their works in common, and where they would +live with their wives and children in community of interests, some +change had taken place; for Southey had so far deviated from his purpose +as to become Laureate, to write for himself, and to profess ultra-Tory +principles, the ultimate objects of which could not but be palpable.</p> + +<p>All this called for Byron's contempt. To this contempt, however, he gave +no expression, for fear of wounding without reason, until that reason +did arise by the Laureate's unforgiving spirit. "The Laureate," says +Byron, "is not one of those who can forgive." Incapable of forgetting +that Byron's genius had obscured his own reputation, Southey hated Byron +with an intensity, such as to make him look out for opportunities of +doing him an injury. This opportunity Southey found in Byron's departure +for the Continent, subsequently to the unfortunate result of his +marriage; and not only did he join in all the calumnies which were set +forth against him in England, but actually followed him to Switzerland, +there to invent new ones, in the hope of crushing his reputation and +ruining the fame of the poet by the depreciation of the man.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron for some time was ignorant of the Laureate's baseness, for +oftentimes friends deem it prudent to hide the truth which it would +perhaps be better to make known. But when he came to know of them, his +whole soul revolted, as naturally must be the case with a man of honor, +and in "Don Juan" he came down upon Southey with a double-edged sword,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273] </a></span> +throwing ridicule upon the author's writings, and odium upon his conduct +as a calumniator.</p> + +<p>This revenge was well deserved. It was not only natural but just, and +even necessary, for it was requisite to show up the man, to judge of the +value to be attached to his calumnies; and later, when he called him +out, he did what honor required of him.</p> + +<p>We have seen elsewhere how far the Laureate's conduct justified Byron's +retaliation. It is enough, therefore, that I should have shown here that +Byron's anger was rather the result of Southey's envy than his own, and +that his sarcasms were due entirely to the disgust which he felt for +such dishonorable proceedings.</p> + +<p>From that time his language, when speaking of Wordsworth and Coleridge, +always reflected the same disgust. Both had made themselves the echoes +of Southey, and both had been inconstant from interested motives, and +had solicited favors from the party in power, which they had abused in +their writings. "They have each a price," said Byron at Pisa.</p> + +<p>On one occasion, as Shelley and Medwin were laughing at some of +Wordsworth's last poems, which disgusted them, not only from the +subservient spirit to Toryism which pervaded them, but also excited +their laughter from their absurdity, Byron, in whose house they were, +said to them, "It is satisfactory to see that a man who becomes +mercenary, and traffics upon the independence of his character, loses at +the same time his talent as a poet."</p> + +<p>Byron had such a notion of political consistency, that he ceased having +any regard for those who failed in this respect.</p> + +<p>"I was at dinner," says Stendhall, "at the Marquis of Breno's at Milan, +in 1816, with Byron and the celebrated poet Monti, the author of +'Basvilliana.' The conversation fell upon poetry, and the question was +asked which were the twelve most beautiful lines written in a century, +either in English, in Italian, or in French. The Italians present agreed +in declaring that Monti's first twelve lines in the 'Mascheroniana' were +the finest Italian lines written for a century. Monti recited them. I +observed Byron. He was in raptures. That kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274] </a></span> of haughty look which a +man often puts on when he has to get rid of an inopportune question, and +which rather took away from the beauty of his magnificent countenance, +suddenly disappeared to make way for an expression of happiness. The +whole of the first canto to the 'Mascheroniana,' which Conti was made to +recite, enchanted all hearers, and caused the liveliest pleasure to the +author of 'Childe Harold.' Never shall I forget the sublime expression +of his countenance: it was the peaceful look of power united with +genius."</p> + +<p>He learned, later, that Monti was a man inconsistent in his politics, +and that on the sole impulse of his passions he had passed from one +party to another, and had called from the pen of another poet the remark +that he justified Dante's saying,—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Il verso si non l' animo costante."<br /> +</p> + +<p>Byron's sympathy for Monti ceased from that time, and he even called him +the "Giuda del Parnaso," whereas his esteem and sympathy for Silvio +Pellico, for Manzoni, and for many other Italians, remained perfectly +unshaken.</p> + +<p>His sense of justice extended to all nationalities. He was a +cosmopolite, and, provided the elements essential to claim his +admiration existed both in the man's work, and in his character, no +personal consideration ever came in the way of his bestowing +praise,—the most pleasing duty that could befall him. The great minds +of antiquity, those of the middle ages—especially the Italians,—all +the modern great men, of whatever nation, were all for him of one +country, the country of great intellects, and the degree of his sympathy +for each was calculated upon the degree of their merit.</p> + +<p>We know how ably he defended Dante, the greatest of Italian poets; how +ably he translated "Francesca da Rimini," and how he exposed the error +of those who did not find that Dante was not sufficiently pathetic.</p> + +<p>We know his admiration for Goethe, who was not only his contemporary, +but also his rival. Could Goethe see with pleasure another star rise in +the horizon, when his own was at its zenith? Some say that he could. +Without sharing altogether in this opinion, it is impossible, however, +not to find that the first impressions which he gave to the world with +respect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275] </a></span> to Byron do not justify the accusations of those who said he +was jealous of him.</p> + +<p>While at Ravenna, Byron received several numbers of a German paper +edited and written by Goethe. It contained several articles upon English +literature, and, among others, upon "Manfred." Curious to know what the +patriarch of German literature thought of him, and being unable to read +German, Byron sent these articles to Hoppner, at Venice, begging him to +translate them.</p> + +<p>" ... If I may judge by two notes of admiration (generally put after +something ridiculous by us), and the word '<i>hypocondrisch</i>,' they are +any thing but favorable. I shall regret this; for I should have been +proud of Goethe's good word; but I sha'n't alter my opinion of him, even +though he should be (savage).... Never mind—soften nothing—I am +<i>literary proof</i>—as one says of a material object, when he puts it to +the proof of fire and water," etc.</p> + +<p>The article was any thing but favorable. After recognizing that the +author of "Manfred" is gifted with wonderful genius, Goethe pretends +that it is an imitation of his "Faust," and thereupon writes a tissue of +fanciful notions which he palms off upon the world.</p> + +<p>On learning all this, Byron was by no means put out, but laughed +heartily at the notion of the author of "Werther" accusing him of +inciting others to a disgust of life. He wondered at such a man as +Goethe giving credence to such silly fables, and giving out as authentic +what were merely suppositions. Instead of being angry at this evident +hostility, he declared that the article was intended as favorable to +him, and, as an acknowledgment, wished to dedicate to him the tragedy of +"Marino Faliero," upon which he was engaged. In the dedication, which +was only projected, the reality of his admiration for Goethe soars above +some jesting expressions.</p> + +<p>To Goethe also he wished to dedicate "Sardanapalus." "I mean," said he, +at Pisa, "to dedicate 'Werner' to Goethe. I look upon him as the +greatest genius that the age has produced. I desired Murray to inscribe +his name to a former work; but he said my letter containing the order +came too late. It would have been more worthy of him than this. I have a +great curiosity about every thing relating to Goethe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276] </a></span> and please myself +with thinking there is some analogy between our characters and writings. +So much interest do I take in him, that I offered to give £100 to any +person who would translate his memoirs for my own reading. Shelley has +sometimes explained part of them to me. He seems to be very +superstitious, and is a believer in astrology, or rather was, for he was +very young when he wrote the first part of his 'Life.' I would give the +world to read 'Faust' in the original. I have been urging Shelley to +translate it." In comparing 'Cain' to 'Faust,' he said, "'Faust' itself +is not so fine a subject as 'Cain,' which is a grand mystery. The mark +that was put upon Cain is a sublime and shadowy act; Goethe would have +made more of it than I have done."</p> + +<p>Not being able to dedicate "Sardanapalus" to him, he dedicated "Werner" +"to the illustrious Goethe, by one of his humblest admirers."</p> + +<p>All these tokens of sympathy pleased Goethe. Their mutual admiration of +one another brought on an exchange of courtesies, which ended by +creating on both sides quite a warm feeling. In a letter which Goethe +wrote to M. M——, after Byron's death, he speaks of his relation with +the noble poet; after saying how "Sardanapalus" appeared without a +dedication, of which, however, he was happy to possess a lithographed +fac-simile, he adds:—</p> + +<p>"It appeared, however, that the noble lord had not renounced his project +of showing his contemporary and companion in letters a striking +testimony of his friendly intentions, of which the tragedy of 'Werner' +contains an extremely precious evidence."</p> + +<p>It might naturally be expected that the aged German poet, after +receiving from so celebrated a person such an unhoped-for kindness +(proof of a disposition so thoroughly amiable, and the more to be prized +from its rarity in the world), should also prepare, on his part, to +express most clearly and forcibly a sense of the gratitude and esteem +with which he was affected:—</p> + +<p>"But this undertaking was so great, and every day seemed to make it so +much more difficult; for what could be said of an earthly being whose +merit could not be exhausted by thought, or comprehended by words?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277] </a></span></p> + +<p>"But when, in the spring of 1823, a young man of amiable and engaging +manners, a M. St.——, brought direct from Genoa to Weimar, a few words +under the hand of this estimable friend, by way of recommendation, and +when, shortly after, there was spread a report that the noble lord was +about to consecrate his great powers and varied talents to high and +perilous enterprise, I had no longer a plea for delay, and addressed to +him the stanzas which ends by the lines,—'And he self-known, e'en as to +me he's known!'</p> + +<p>"These verses," continued Goethe, "arrived at Genoa, but found him not. +This excellent friend had already sailed; but being driven back by +contrary winds, he landed at Leghorn, where this effusion of my heart +reached him. On the era of his departure, July 23, 1823, he found time +to send me a reply, full of the most beautiful ideas and the divinest +sentiments, which will be treasured as an invaluable testimony of worth +and friendship, among the choicest documents which I possess.</p> + +<p>"What emotions of joy and hope did not that paper at once excite! but +now it has become, by the premature death of its noble writer, an +inestimable relic, and a source of unspeakable regret; for it +aggravates, to a peculiar degree in me, the mourning and melancholy that +pervade the whole moral and poetical world,—in me, who looked forward +(after the success of his great efforts) to the prospect of being +blessed with the sight of this master-spirit of the age—this friend so +fortunately acquired: and of having to welcome, on his return, the most +humane of conquerors."</p> + +<p>These are, no doubt, most noble words, but they were called forth by the +still nobler conduct of Byron toward him. It can not be said that Goethe +ever appreciated all that there was of worth in his young rival, and a +few words at the end of his letter make one believe that he still +credited some of the absurd stories which he had been told about Byron's +youth, and whom he still believed to be identified in the person of +"Manfred." He entertained a great affection for Byron, no doubt, but he +believed, however, that indulgence and forgiveness were not only +necessary on his part, but actually generous in him.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron's sympathetic admiration had this peculiarity,—that it did +not attach to one class of individuals devoted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278] </a></span> like himself to poetry, +but extended to every class of society. The statesman, the orator, the +philosopher, the prince, the subject, the learned, women, general, or +literary men, all were equally sure of having justice done to them. At +every page of his memoranda, we find instances of this. Thus of +Mackintosh he says: "He is a rare instance of the union of every +transcendent talent and great good-nature."</p> + +<p>Of Curran he speaks in the most enthusiastic terms:—</p> + +<p>"I have met Curran at Holland House—he beats every body;—his +imagination is beyond conception, and his humor (it is difficult to +define what is wit) perfect. Then he has fifty faces, and twice as many +voices, when he mimics; I never met his equal. Now, were I a woman, and +e'en a virgin, that is the man I should make my Seamander. He is quite +fascinating. Remember, I have met him only once, and I almost fear to +meet him again, lest the impression should be lowered.</p> + +<p>"Curran! Curran's the man who struck me most. Such imagination! There +never was any thing like it, that ever I saw or heard of. His +<i>published</i> life—his published speeches—give you no idea of the man, +none at all."</p> + +<p>In his memoranda there were equally enthusiastic praises of Curran. "The +riches," said he, "of his Irish imagination were exhaustless. I have +heard that man speak more poetry than I have ever written—though I saw +him seldom, and but occasionally."</p> + +<p>In speaking of Colman, he said, "He was most agreeable and sociable. He +can laugh so well, which Sheridan can not. If I could not have them both +together, I should like to begin the evening with Sheridan, and finish +it with Colman."</p> + +<p>He praised loudly the eloquence of Grattan:—</p> + +<p>"I differ with him in politics, but I agree with all those who admire +his eloquence."</p> + +<p>As to Sheridan, he never ceased his eulogies:—</p> + +<p>"At Lord Holland's the other night, we were all delivering our +respective and various opinions on him and other <i>hommes marquants</i>, and +mine was this:—'Whatever Sheridan has done, or chosen to do, has been, +<i>par excellence</i>, always the <i>best</i> of its kind. He has written the +<i>best</i> comedy ("School for Scandal"), the <i>best</i> drama (in my mind, far +before that St. Giles's lampoon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279] </a></span> the "Beggars' Opera"), the <i>best</i> +farce (the "Critic,"—it is only too good for a farce), and the <i>best</i> +address ("Monologue on Garrick"), and, to crown all, delivered the very +best oration (the famous "Begum Speech") ever conceived or heard in this +country.'"</p> + +<p>His enthusiasm for Sheridan partook even of a kind of tender compassion +for his great weaknesses and misfortunes. He wrote in his memoranda, on +one occasion, when Sheridan had cried with joy on hearing that Byron had +warmly praised him:—</p> + +<p>"Poor Brinsley, if they were tears of pleasure, I would rather have said +those few, but most sincere words, than have written the "Iliad," or +made his own celebrated "Philippic." Nay, his own comedy never gratified +me more, than to hear that he had derived a moment's gratification from +any praise of mine, humble as it must appear to 'my elders, and my +betters.'"</p> + +<p>And also:—</p> + +<p>"Poor, dear Sherry! I shall never forget the day when he, Rogers, Moore, +and myself, spent the time from six at night till one o'clock in the +morning, without a single yawn; we listening to him, and he talking all +the time."</p> + +<p>When he speaks of great men recently dead,—of Burke, Pitt, Burns, +Goldsmith, and others of his distinguished contemporaries,—he is +never-ending in his praise of them. His affectionate admiration for so +many went so far, almost, as to frighten him into the belief that it was +a weakness: after having said—"I like A——, I like B——. By +Mohammed!" he exclaims in his memoranda, "I begin to think I like every +body; a disposition not to be encouraged; a sort of social gluttony, +that swallows every thing set before it."</p> + +<p>Not only was it a pleasure to him to praise those who deserved it, but +he would not allow the dead to be blamed, nor the illustrious among the +living; we all know how much he admired the talents of Madame de Staël: +"Il avait pour elle des admirations <i>obstinées</i>." "Campbell abused +Corinne," he says in his journal, 1813: "I reverence and admire him; but +I won't give up my opinion. Why should I? I read her again and again, +and there can be no affectation in this. I can not be mistaken (except +in taste) in a book I read and lay down and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280] </a></span> take up again; and no book +can be totally bad, which finds some, even <i>one</i> reader, who can say as +much sincerely."</p> + +<p>And elsewhere:</p> + +<p>"H—— laughed, as he does at every thing German, in which, however, I +think he goes a little too far. B——, I hear, contemns it too. But +there are fine passages; and, after all, what is a work—any or every +work—but a desert with fountains, and, perhaps, a grove or two every +day's journey? To be sure, in mademoiselle, what we often mistake and +'pant for' as the 'cooling stream,' turns out to be the 'mirage' +(<i>criticé</i>, verbiage); but we do, at last, get to something like the +temple of Jupiter Ammon, and then the waste we have passed is only +remembered to gladden the contrast."</p> + +<p>He who was so sparing of answers to his own detractors, could not allow +a criticism against a friend to be left unanswered. We have seen how he +defended Scott, Shelley, Coleridge, and numerous other remarkable +persons, whenever they were unjustly attacked, although they were alive +to defend themselves. The respect and justice which he claimed for the +dead was equally proportioned. "Do not forget," he wrote to Moore on +hearing that he was about to write the "Life of Sheridan;" "do not +forget <i>to spare the living without insulting the dead</i>."</p> + +<p>On reading, at Ravenna, that Schlegel said, that Dante was not popular +in Italy, and accused him of want of pathos: "'Tis false," said he, with +indignation; "there have been more editors and commentators (and +imitators ultimately) of Dante, than of all their poets put together. +<i>Not</i> a favorite! Why they talk Dante, write Dante, and think and dream +Dante at this moment (1821) to an excess which would be ridiculous, but +that he deserves it.</p> + +<p>"In the same style this German talks of gondolas on the Arno—a precious +fellow to dare to speak of Italy!</p> + +<p>"He says, also, that Dante's chief defect is a want, in a word, of +gentle feelings. Of gentle feelings! and this in the face of 'Francesca +of Rimini'—and the father's feelings in 'Ugolino'—and 'Beatrice'—and +'La Pia!' Why, there is a gentleness in Dante beyond all gentleness, +when he is tender. It is true, that in treating of the Christian Hades, +or Hell, there is not much scope or room for gentleness; but who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281] </a></span> <i>but</i> +Dante could have introduced any 'softness' at all into Hell? Is there +any in Milton? No—and Dante's heaven is all <i>love</i>, and <i>glory</i>, and +<i>majesty</i>."</p> + +<p>We have alluded to his admiration for Pope. It was such as to appear +almost a kind of filial love. He was sorry, mortified, and humbled, not +to find in Westminster Abbey the monument of so great a man:—</p> + +<p>"Of all the disgraces that attach to England, the greatest," said he, +"is that there should be no place assigned to Pope in Poets' Corner. I +have often thought of erecting a monument to him at my own expense in +Westminster Abbey; and hope to do so yet."</p> + +<p>To add any thing more to show how totally Byron was free from all +sentiments of an envious nature, would be to exhaust the subject, and to +abuse the reader's patience. This absence of envy in him shows itself so +clearly in all his sayings and doings, that it appears to be impossible +to doubt it, and yet he has not been spared even such a calumny! I do +not allude to the French critics, who neither knew the man nor the +author, and whose systematic attacks have no value; but I allude to a +certain article in the "London Magazine," which appeared shortly before +his death, under the title of "Personal Character of Lord Byron," and +which caused some sensation because it appeared to have been written by +some one who had known Byron intimately. It was all the more perfidious +because it gave an appearance of truth to a great many falsehoods, +derived from the truth with which these falsehoods were mixed. It was +the work of one who had gone to Greece, there to play a great part, but +who, having failed in his attempt and exposed himself to the laughter of +his friends, felt a kind of jealousy for Byron's success in that line, +and revenged himself by saying, among other things, "that it was +dangerous for Byron's friends to rise in the world, if they preferred +his friendship to their glory, because, as soon as they arrived at a +certain pre-eminence, he was sure to hate them."</p> + +<p>Such a calumny exasperated Byron's real friends, and among these Count +Gamba, who hastened to reply to it, by publishing an interesting book, +precious from its veracity, and which does equal credit to Byron and to +the young man honored with his friendship. After analyzing the +anonymous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282] </a></span> article, Count Gamba goes on to say: "My own opinion is just +the contrary to that of the writer in the magazine. I think he prided +himself on the successes of his friends, and cited them as a proof of +discernment in the choice of some of his companions. This I know, that +of envy he had not the least spark in his whole disposition: he had +strong antipathies, certainly, to one or two individuals; but I have +always understood, from those most likely to know, that he never broke +with any of the friends of his youth, and that his earliest attachments +were also his last."</p> + +<p>It may be remarked that Byron's popularity made it difficult for him to +indulge sentiments of envy. But without referring to the unstable +character of popularity, was not his own attacked by the jealousy of +those who wished to pull him down from the pedestal of fame, to which +they hoped themselves to rise? Did he not think, some years before his +death, that his popularity was wavering, and that his rivals would +profit by it? Was he less pleased at the success of his friends? Does +not all he said, and all he did, prove that where he blamed he did so +unwillingly, from a sense of justice and truth; but that when he +praised, he did so to satisfy a desire of his heart?</p> + +<p>We have dwelt at considerable length upon this subject, because we +believe that a total absence of envy is so rare among poets, and so +conspicuous in Lord Byron, that we can take it to be the criterion of +his nobility of soul. We can sum up, therefore, all we have said, by +declaring, that if Byron has been envied by all his enemies, and even +his friends, with, perhaps, the exception of Shelley, and has not +himself envied one, though he suffered personally from the consequences +of their jealousy, it is because the great kindness of his nature made +him the least envious of men.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Moore, Letter 261.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Venice, 1817.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Why has the passage in the first edition of Stendhall's +works, which treats in enthusiastic terms of Byron's genius, been cut +out of the subsequent editions?</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Was this a little irony? I think so, for it was believed +that jealousy was the weak point of Rogers.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Moore, Letter 435.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Moore, Letter 422.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>BENEVOLENCE AND KINDNESS OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + +<p class="center"><b>BENEVOLENCE.</b></p> + + +<p>The benevolence of Byron's character constitutes the principal +characteristic of his nature, and was particularly remarkable from its +power. All the good qualities in Byron do not show the same force in the +same degree. In all the sentiments which we have analyzed and given in +proof of his goodness, though each may be very strong, and even capable +of inspiring him with the greatest sacrifice, yet one might find in each +that personal element, inherent in different degrees to our purest and +most generous affections, since the impulse which dictates them is +evidently based upon a desire to be satisfied with ourselves. The same +thing might be said of his benevolence, had it been only the result of +habit: but if it had been this, if it had been intermittent, and of that +kind which does not exclude occasional harshness and even cruelty, I +would not venture to present it to the reader as a proof of Byron's +goodness.</p> + +<p>His benevolence had nothing personal in its elements. It was a kind of +universal and habitual charity, which gives without hope of return, +which is more occupied with the good of others than with its own, and +which is called for only by the instinctive desire to alleviate the +sufferings of others. If such a quality has no right to be called a +virtue, it nevertheless imprints upon the man who possesses it an +ineffaceable character of greatness.</p> + +<p>There was not a single moment in his life in which it did not reveal +itself in the most touching actions. We have seen how neither happiness +nor misfortune could alter it.</p> + +<p>As a child, he went one day to bathe with a little school-fellow in the +Don, in Scotland, and having but one very small <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284] </a></span>Shetland pony between +them, each one walked and rode alternately. When they reached the +bridge, at a point where the river becomes sombre and romantic, Byron, +who was on foot, recollected a legendary prophecy, which says:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Brig o' Balgounie, black's your wa':<br /> +Wi' a wife's ae son and a mare's ae foal<br /> +Doun ye shall fa'!"<br /> +</div> + +<p>Little Byron stopped his companion, asked him if he remembered the +prediction, and declared that as the pony might very well be "a mare's +ae foal," he intended to cross first, for although both only sons, his +mother alone would mourn him, while the death of his friend, whose +father and mother were both alive, would cause a twofold grief.<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p> + +<p>As a stripling, he saw at Southwell a poor woman sally mournfully from a +shop, because the Bible she wished to purchase costs more money than she +possesses. Byron hastens to buy it, and, full of joy, runs after the +poor creature to give it to her. As a young man, at an age when the +effervescence and giddiness of youth forget many things, he never forgot +that to seduce a young girl is a crime. Then, as ever, he was less the +seducer than the seduced.</p> + +<p>Moore tells us that Byron was so keenly sensitive to the pleasure or +pain of those with whom he lived, that while in his imaginary realms he +defied the universe, in real life a frown or a smile could overcome him.</p> + +<p>Proud, energetic, independent, intrepid, benevolence alone rendered Lord +Byron so flexible, patient, and docile to the remonstrances or +reproaches of those who loved him, and to whom he allowed friendly +motives, that he often sacrificed his own talent to this genial and +kindly sentiment. The Rev. Mr. Beecher, disapproving as too free one of +the poems he had just published at the age of seventeen, in his first +edition of the "Hours of Idleness," Lord Byron <i>withdrew</i> and <i>burnt</i> +the whole edition. At the solicitation of Dallas and Gifford he +suppresses, in the second canto of "Childe Harold," the very stanzas he +preferred to all the rest. Madame G——, grieved at the persecution +drawn down on him by the first canto of "Don Juan," begs him to +discontinue the poem, and he ceased to write it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285] </a></span></p> + +<p>At the request of Madame de Staël, he consented, in spite of his great +disinclination, to attempt a reconciliation with Lady Byron.</p> + +<p>The "Curse of Minerva," a poem written in Greece, while he was still +painfully impressed by the artistic piracies of Lord Elgin in the +"Parthenon," was in the press and on the eve of publication; but Lord +Elgin's friends reminded him of the pain it would inflict on him and on +his family, and the poem was sacrificed. No one ever bore more +generously than he with reproaches made with good-will and kindness. +This amiable disposition, observed in Greece by Mr. Finlay, led him to +say that it amazed him. As regards Lord Byron's tenderness toward his +friends, it was always so great and constant, that we have thought it +right to devote a long article to it. We will, however, quote as another +instance of the delicacy of his friendship and his fear of offending his +friends, or of giving them pain, a letter which Moore also cites as a +proof of his extreme sensitiveness in this respect.</p> + +<p>This letter was addressed to Mr. Bankes, his friend and college +companion, on one occasion when Byron believed he had offended him +involuntarily:—</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Bankes</span>,—My eagerness to come to an explanation has, I trust, +convinced you that whatever my unlucky manner might inadvertently be, +the change was as unintentional as (if intended) it would have been +ungrateful. I really was not aware that, while we were together, I had +evinced such caprice. That we were not so much in each other's company +as I could have wished, I well know; but I think so astute an observer +as yourself must have perceived enough to explain this, without +supposing any slight to one in whose society I have pride and pleasure. +Recollect that I do not allude here to 'extended' or 'extending' +acquaintances, but to circumstances you will understand, I think, on a +little reflection.</p> + +<p>"And now, my dear Bankes, do not distress me by supposing that I can +think of you, or you of me, otherwise than I trust we have long thought. +You told me not long ago, that my temper was improved, and I should be +sorry that opinion <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286] </a></span>should be revoked. Believe me, your friendship is of +more account to me than all those absurd vanities in which, I fear, you +conceive me to take too much interest. I have never disputed your +superiority, or doubted (seriously) your good-will, and no one shall +ever 'make mischief between us' without the sincere regret on the part +of your ever affectionate, etc.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">"<span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"</p> + +<p>In the midst of the unexampled enthusiasm of a whole nation, Byron is +neither touched by the adoration which his genius inspires, nor the +endless praises which are bestowed upon him, nor the love declarations +which crowd his table, nor the flattering expressions of Lord Holland, +who ranks him next to Walter Scott as a poet, and to Burke as an orator; +nor indeed by those of Lord Fitzgerald, who, notwithstanding a flogging +at Harrow, can not bear malice against the author of "Childe Harold," +but desires to forgive. To be the friend of those whom his satire +offended, so penetrates him with disgust for that poem, that his dearest +wish is to lose every trace of it; and, though the fifth edition is +nearly completed, he gives orders to his publisher, Cawthorn, to burn +the whole edition.</p> + +<p>It is well known that on the occasion of the opening of the new Drury +Lane Theatre, the committee called upon all England's poetical talent +for an inaugural address. The committee received many, but found none +worthy of adoption. It was then that Lord Holland advised that Lord +Byron should be applied to, whose genius and popularity would enhance, +he said, the solemnity of the occasion. Lord Byron after a refusal, and +much hesitation arising partly from modesty and partly from the +knowledge that the rejected authors would make him pay a heavy price for +his triumph, at last, with much reluctance, accepted the invitation, +merely to oblige Lord Holland. He exchanged with the latter on this +topic a long correspondence, revealing so thoroughly his docility and +modesty, that Moore declares these letters valuable as an illustration +of his character; they show, in truth, the exceeding pliant good-nature +with which he listened to the counsel and criticism of his friends. "It +can not be questioned," says he, "that this docility, which he +invariably showed in matters upon which most authors are generally +tenacious and irritable,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287] </a></span> was a natural essence of his character, and +which might have been displayed on much more important occasions had he +been so fortunate as to become connected with people capable of +understanding and of guiding him."</p> + +<p>Another time Moore wrote to him at Pisa:—"Knowing you as I do, Lady +Byron ought to have discovered, that you are the most docile and most +amiable man that ever existed, for those who live with you."</p> + +<p>His hatred of contradiction and petty teasing, his repugnance to annoy +or mortify any one, arose from the same cause. Once, after having +replied with his usual frankness to an inquiry of Madame de Staël, +<i>that he thought a certain step ill-advised</i>, he wrote in his +memorandum-book:—"I have since reflected that it would be possible for +Mrs. B—— to be patroness; and I regret having given my opinion, as I +detest getting people into difficulties with themselves or their +favorites."</p> + +<p>And again:—</p> + +<p>"To-day C—— called, and, while sitting here, in came Merivale. During +our colloquy, C—— (ignorant that M——was the writer) abused the +mawkishness of the 'Quarterly Review,' on Grimm's correspondence. I +(knowing the secret) changed the conversation as soon as I could, and +C—— went away quite convinced of having made the most favorable +impression on his new acquaintance.... I did not look at him while this +was going on, but I felt like a coal; for I like Merivale, as well as +the article in question."</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>HIS INDULGENCE.</b></p> + +<p>His indulgence, so great toward all, was excessive toward his inferiors.</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron," says Medwin, "was the best of masters, and it may be +asserted that he was beloved by his servants; his goodness even extended +to their families. He liked them to have their children with them. I +remember, on one occasion, as we entered the hall, coming back from our +walk, we met the coachman's son, a boy of three or four years of age. +Byron took the child up in his arms and gave him ten pauls."</p> + +<p>"His indulgence toward his servants," says Mr. Hoppner, "was almost +reprehensible, for even when they neglected their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288] </a></span> duty, he appeared +rather to laugh at than to scold them, and he never could make up his +mind to send them away, even after threatening to do so."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hoppner quotes several instances of this indulgence, which he +frequently witnessed. I will relate one in which his kindness almost +amounts to virtue. On the point of leaving for Ravenna, whither his +heart passionately summoned him, Tita Falier, his gondolier, is taken +for the conscription. To release him it is not only necessary to pay +money, but also to take certain measures, and to delay his departure. +The money was given, and the much-desired journey postponed.</p> + +<p>"The result was," says Hoppner, "that his servants were so attached to +him that they would have borne every thing for his sake. His death +plunged them into the deepest grief. I have in my possession a letter +written to his family by Byron's gondolier, Tita, who followed him from +Venice to Greece, and remained with him until his death. The poor fellow +speaks of his master in touching terms: he declares that in Byron he has +lost rather a father than a master, and he does not cease to dilate upon +the goodness with which Byron looked after the interests of all who +served him."</p> + +<p>Fletcher also wrote to Murray after his master's death:—</p> + +<p>"Pray forgive this scribbling, for I scarcely know what I do and say. I +have served Lord Byron for twenty years, and his lordship was always to +me rather a father than a master. I am too distressed to be able to give +you any particulars about his death."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron's benevolence also shone forth in his tenderness toward +children, in the pleasure he experienced in mingling in their +amusements, and in making them presents. In general, to procure a +moment's enjoyment to any one was real happiness to him.</p> + +<p>Quite as humane as he was benevolent, cruelty or ferocity he could not +brook, even in imagination. His genius, although so bold, could not bear +too harrowing a plot. "I wanted to write something upon that subject," +he told Shelley at Pisa, "as it is extremely tragical, but it was too +heartrending for my nerves to cope with."</p> + +<p>His works, moreover, from beginning to end, prove this. An analysis of +the character of all his heroes will prove that,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289] </a></span> however daring, they +are never ferocious, harsh, nor perverse. Even Conrad the Corsair, whose +type is sketched from a ferocious race, and who is placed in +circumstances that tempt to inhumanity,—Conrad is yet far removed from +cruelty. The drop of blood on Gulnare's fair brow makes him shudder, and +almost forget that it was to save him that she became guilty. The cruel +deeds of a man not only prevented Lord Byron from feeling the least +sympathy for him, but even made gratitude toward him a burden. However +much Ali Pasha, the fierce Viceroy of Janina, may overwhelm him with +kindness, wish to treat him as a son, address him in writing as +"Excellentissime and Carissime," the cruelties of such a friend are too +revolting for Byron to profit by his offer of services. He calls him the +man of war and calamity, and in immortal verse perpetuates the memory of +his crimes, and even <i>foretells the death he actually died a few years +later</i>. He can forgive him the weakness of the flesh, but not those +crimes which are deaf to pity's voice, and which, to be condemned in +every man, are still more so in an old man:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Blood follows blood, and through this mortal span<br /> +In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began."<br /> +</div> + +<p>The recollection of human massacres spoilt in his eyes even a beautiful +spot. In exalting the Rhine, the beautiful river he so much admired, the +remembrance of all the blood spilt on its banks saddened his heart:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">"Then to see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The valley of sweet waters, were to know</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Earth paved like Heaven; and to seem such to me</span><br /> +Even now what wants thy stream?—that it should Lethe be:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But o'er the blacken'd memory's blighting dream</span><br /> +Thy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as they seem."<br /> +</div> + +<p>As to being himself a witness and spectator of scenes of violence, it +was an effort which exceeded the strength, however great, of his will. +Gifted with much psychological curiosity, and holding the theory that +every thing should be seen, he was present at Rome at the execution of +three murderers, who were to be put to death, on the eve of his +departure. This spectacle agitated him to such a degree that it brought +on a fever.</p> + +<p>In Spain he attended a bull-fight. The painful impression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290] </a></span> produced by +the barbarous sight is immortalized in verse (<i>vide</i> "Childe Harold," +1st canto).</p> + +<p>But his actions, above all, testify to his humane disposition. He never +heard of the misfortune or suffering of a fellow-creature without +endeavoring to relieve it, whether in London, Venice, Ravenna, Pisa, or +Greece; he spared neither gold, time, nor labor to achieve this object. +At Pisa, hearing that a wretched man, guilty of a sacrilegious theft, +was to be condemned to cruel torture, he became ill with dread and +anxiety. He wrote to the English ambassador, and to the consuls, begging +for their interposition; neglected no chance, and did not rest until he +acquired the certainty that the penalty inflicted on the culprit would +be more humane.</p> + +<p>In Greece, where traits of generous compassion fill the rest of his +life, Count Gamba relates that Colonel Napier, then residing in the +Island of Cephalonia, one day rode in great haste to Lord Byron, to ask +for his assistance, a number of workmen, employed in making a road, +having been buried under the crumbling side of a mountain in consequence +of an imprudent operation. Lord Byron immediately dispatched his +physician, and, although just sitting down to table, had his horses +saddled, and galloped off to the scene of the disaster, accompanied by +Count Gamba and his suite. Women and children wept and moaned, the crowd +each moment increased, lamentations were heard on all sides, but, +whether from despair or laziness, none came forward. Generous anger +overcame Lord Byron at this scene of woe and shame; he leapt from his +horse, and, grasping the necessary implements, began with his own hands +the work of setting free the poor creatures, who were there buried +alive. His example aroused the courage of the others, and the +catastrophe was thus mitigated by the rescue of several victims. Count +Gamba, after dwelling on the good Lord Byron did everywhere, and on the +admirable life he led in Greece, expresses himself as follows in a +letter to Mr. Kennedy:—</p> + +<p>"One of his principal objects in Greece was to awaken the Turks as well +as the Greeks to more humane sentiments. You know how he hastened, +whenever the opportunity arose, to purchase the freedom of woman and +children, and to send them back to their homes. He frequently, and not +without incurring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291] </a></span> danger to himself, rescued Turks from the sanguinary +grasp of the Greek corsairs. When a Moslem brig drifted ashore near +Missolonghi, the Greeks wanted to capture the whole crew; but Lord Byron +opposed it, and promised a reward of a crown for each sailor, and of two +for each officer rescued."</p> + +<p>"Coming to Greece," wrote Lord Byron, "one of my principal objects was +to alleviate, as much as possible, the miseries incident to a warfare so +cruel as the present. When the dictates of humanity are in question, I +know no difference between Turks and Greeks. It is enough that those who +want assistance are men, in order to claim the pity and protection of +the meanest pretender to humane feelings. I have found here twenty-four +Turks, including women and children, who have long pined in distress, +far from the means of support and the consolations of their home. The +Government has consigned them to me: I transmit them to Prevesa, whither +they desire to be sent. I hope you will not object to take care that +they may be restored to a place of safety, and that the governor of your +town may accept of my present. The best recompense I could hope for +would be to find that I had inspired the Ottoman commanders with the +same sentiments toward those unhappy Greeks, who may hereafter fall into +their hands.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">"<span class="smcap">Byron</span>."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron," pursues Count Gamba, "never could witness a calamity as an +idle spectator. He was so alive to the sufferings of others, that he +sometimes allowed himself to be imposed upon too readily by tales of +woe. The least semblance of injustice excited his indignation, and led +him to intervene without a thought for the consequences to himself of +his interposition; and he entertained this feeling not only for his +fellow-creatures but even toward animals."</p> + +<p>His compassion extended to every living creature, to every thing that +could feel. Without alluding to his well-known fondness for dogs, and +for the animals of every kind he liked to have about him, and of which +he took the greatest care, it will be sufficient to point out the motive +which led him to deprive himself of the pleasures of the chase,—a +pastime that would have been, from his keen enjoyment of bodily +exercises,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292] </a></span> so congenial to his tastes. The reason is found in his +memorandum for 1814:—</p> + +<p>"The last bird I ever fired at was an eaglet, on the shore of the Gulf +of Lepanto, near Vostitza. It was only wounded, and I tried to save it, +the eye was so bright: but it pined and died in a few days; and I never +did since, and never will, attempt the death of another bird."</p> + +<p>Angling, as well as shooting, he considered cruel.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"And angling, too, that solitary vice,<br /> +Whatever Izaak Walton sings or says:<br /> +The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet<br /> +Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And, as if he feared not to have expressed strongly enough his aversion +for the cruelties of angling, he adds in a note:—</p> + +<p>"It would have taught him humanity at least. This sentimental savage, +whom it is a mode to quote (among the novelists) to show their sympathy +for innocent sports and old songs, teaches how to sew up frogs, and +break their legs by way of experiment, in addition to the art of +angling,—the cruelest, the coldest, and the stupidest of pretended +sports. They may talk about the beauties of nature, but the angler +merely thinks of his dish of fish; he has no leisure to take his eyes +from off the streams, and a single bite is worth to him more than all +the scenery around. Besides, some fish bite best on a rainy day. The +whale, the shark, and the tunny fishery have somewhat of noble and +perilous in them; even net-fishing, trawling, etc., are more humane and +useful. But angling!—no angler can be a good man."</p> + +<p>"One of the best men I ever knew (as humane, delicate-minded, generous, +and excellent a creature as any in the world) was an angler; true, he +angled with painted flies, and would have been incapable of the +extravagances of Izaak Walton."</p> + +<p>"The above addition was made by a friend, in reading over the +MS.:—'<i>Audi alteram partem</i>'—I leave it to counterbalance my own +observations."</p> + +<p>It is well known that Lord Byron would not deride certain superstitions, +and was sometimes tempted to exclaim with Hamlet,—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio,<br /> +Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293] </a></span></div> + +<p>He, consequently, also conformed to the English superstition, which +involves, under pain of an unlucky year, the eating of a goose at +Michaelmas. Alas! once only he did not eat one, and that year was his +last; but he eat none because, during the journey from Pisa to Genoa, on +Michaelmas eve, he saw the two white geese in their cage in the wagon +that followed his carriage, and felt so sorry for them that he gave +orders they should be spared. After his arrival at Genoa they became +such pets that he caressed them constantly. When he left for Greece he +recommended them to the care of Mr. Kennedy, who was probably kind to +them for the sake of their illustrious protector.</p> + +<p>Not only could Lord Byron never contribute voluntarily to the suffering +of a living being, but his pity, his commiseration for the sufferings of +his fellow-creatures showed itself all his life in such habitual +benevolence, in such boundless generosity, that volumes would be +necessary to record his noble deeds.</p> + +<p>Although, in thus analyzing and enumerating the proofs of his innate +goodness, we have declared we did not entertain the pretension of +elevating them to the rank of lofty virtues, we are yet compelled to +state that if his generosity was too instinctive to be termed a virtue, +it was yet too admirable to be considered as an instinct; that while in +remaining a quality of his heart, it elevated and transformed itself +often through the exertion of his will into an absolute virtue, and +through all its phases and in its double nature, it presented in Lord +Byron a remarkably rare blending of all that is most lovable and +estimable in the human soul.</p> + +<p>Here we merely speak of the generosity that showed itself in benefits +conferred. As to that which consists rather in self-denial, sacrifice +which forgives injuries, and which is the greatest triumph of mortal +courage, that, in a word, is indeed a sublime virtue. Such generosity, +if he possessed it, we will treat of in another chapter.<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></p> + +<p>As we here wish to establish by facts that only which appears to have +been the impulse of his good heart, the difficulty lies in the choice of +proofs, and in the necessity of limiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294] </a></span> our narrative. We will, +therefore, in order not to convert this chapter into a volume, forbear +from quoting more than a few instances; but justice requires us to say, +that misfortune or poverty never had recourse to him in vain; that +neither the pecuniary embarrassments of his youth, nor the slender +merits of the applicants, nor any of the pretexts so convenient to weak +or hypocritical<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> liberality, ever could become a reason with him to +refuse those who stretched out their hand to him. The claim of +adversity, as adversity, was a sufficient and sacred one to him, and to +relieve it an imperious impulse.</p> + +<p>An appeal was once made to Lord Byron's generosity by an individual +whose bad repute alone might have justified a harsh rebuff. But Lord +Byron, whose charity was of a higher order, looked upon it otherwise.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Murray, "should you give £150 to this bad writer, to whom +nobody would give a penny?" "Precisely because nobody is willing to give +him any thing is he the more in need that I should help him," answered +Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>A certain Mr. Ashe superintended the publication of a paper called "The +Book," the readers of which were attracted rather by its ill-nature and +scandal, and the revelations it made in lifting the veil that had so far +concealed the most delicate mysteries, than by the talent of the author. +In a fit of repentance this man wrote to Lord Byron, alleging his great +poverty as an apology for having thus prostituted his pen, and imploring +from Lord Byron a gift to enable him to live more honorably in future. +Lord Byron's answer to this letter is so remarkable for its good sense, +kindness, and high tone of honor, that we can not refrain from +reproducing it.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—I leave town for a few days to-morrow; on my return I will +answer your letter more at length. Whatever may be your situation, +I can not but commend your resolution to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295] </a></span>abjure and abandon the +publication and composition of works such as those to which you +have alluded. Depend upon it they amuse few, disgrace both reader +and writer, and benefit none. It will be my wish to assist you, as +far as my limited means will admit, to break such a bondage. In +your answer inform me what sum you think would enable you to +extricate yourself from the hands of your employers, and to regain, +at least, temporary independence, and I shall be glad to contribute +my mite toward it. At present, I must conclude. Your name is not +unknown to me, and I regret, for my own sake, that you have ever +lent it to the works you mention. In saying this, I merely repeat +your own words in your letter to me, and have no wish whatever to +say a single syllable that may appear to insult your misfortunes. +If I have, excuse me: it is unintentional.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ashe replied with a request for a sum of about four thousand francs. +Lord Byron having somewhat delayed answering him, Ashe reiterated his +request, complaining of the procrastination; whereupon, "with a kindness +which few," says Moore, "would imitate in a similar case," Byron wrote +to him as follows:—</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—When you accuse a stranger of neglect, you forget that it is +possible business or absence from London may have interfered to +delay his answer, as has actually occurred in the present instance. +But to the point. I am willing to do what I can to extricate you +from your situation.... I will deposit in Mr. Murray's hands (with +his consent) the sum you mentioned, to be advanced for the time at +ten pounds per month.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—I write in the greatest hurry, which may make my letter a +little abrupt; but, as I said before, I have no wish to distress +your feelings.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>."</p> + +<p>Ashe, a few months later, asked for the whole amount, to defray his +travelling expenses to New South Wales, and Lord Byron again remitted to +him the entire amount.</p> + +<p>On another occasion, some unhappy person being discussed in harsh terms, +the remark was made that he deserved his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296] </a></span> misery. Lord Byron turned on +the accuser, and fired with generous anger, "Well!" exclaimed he, "if it +be true that N—— is unfortunate, and that he be so through his own +fault, he is doubly to be pitied, because his conscience must poison his +grief with remorse. Such are my morals, and that is why I pity error and +respect misfortune."</p> + +<p>The produce of his poems, as long as he remained in England, he devoted +to the relief of his poor relations, or to the assistance of authors in +reduced circumstances. I will not speak of certain traits of heroic +generosity which averted the disgrace and ruin of families, which robbed +vice of many youthful victims, and would cast in the shade many deeds of +past and proverbial magnanimity, and deserve the pen of a Plutarch to +transmit them to posterity.</p> + +<p>When we are told, with such admiring comments, of Alexander's +magnanimity in respecting and restoring to freedom the mother and the +wife of Darius, we do not learn whether those noble women were beautiful +and in love with the Macedonian hero. But Lord Byron succored, and +restored to the right path, many girls, young and gifted with every +charm, who were so subjugated by the beauty, goodness, and generosity of +their benefactor, that they fall at his feet, not to implore that they +might be sent back to their homes, but ready to become what he bade +them. And yet this young man of six-and-twenty, thinking them fair, was +touched, and tempted perhaps, yet sent them home, rescued, and +enlightened by the counsels of wisdom.</p> + +<p>There is more than generosity in such actions, and we therefore hold +back details for another chapter, in which we will examine this quality +under various aspects. Here we will content ourselves with stating that +these noble traits became known, almost in spite of himself; for his +benevolence was also remarkable in this respect, that it was exercised +with a truly Christian spirit, and in obedience to the Divine precept +that "the left hand shall not know what the right doeth." Having +conferred a great favor on one of his friends, Mr. Hodgson, who was +about to take orders, he wrote in the evening in his journal:—</p> + +<p>"H—— has been telling that I ... I am sure, at least, I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297] </a></span>did not +mention it, and I wish he had not. He is a good fellow, and I oblige +myself ten times more by being of use than I did him,—and there's an +end on't."<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></p> + +<p>It was said of Chateaubriand that if he wished to do any thing generous, +he liked to do so on his balcony; the contrary may be said of Byron, who +would have preferred to have his good action hid in the cellars.</p> + +<p>"If we wished to dwell," says Count Gamba in a letter to Kennedy, "on +his many acts of charity, a volume would not suffice to tell you of +those alone to which I have been a witness. I have known in different +Italian towns several honorable families, fallen into poverty, with whom +Lord Byron had not the slightest acquaintance, and to whom he +nevertheless <i>secretly</i> sent large sums of money, sometimes 200 dollars +and more; and these persons never knew the name of their benefactor."</p> + +<p>Count Gamba also tells us that, to his knowledge, in Florence, a +respectable mother of a family, being reduced to great penury by the +persecution of a malignant and powerful man, from whom she had protected +the honor of one of her <i>protégées</i>, Lord Byron, to whom the lady and +her persecutor were equally unknown, sent her assistance, which was +powerful enough to counteract the evil designs of her foes. He adds +that, having learnt at Pisa that a great number of vessels had been +shipwrecked during a violent storm, in the very harbor of Genoa, and +that several respectable families were thereby completely ruined, Lord +Byron <i>secretly</i> sent them money, and to some more than 300 dollars. +Those who received it never knew their benefactor's name. His charity +provided above all for absent ones, for the old, infirm, and retiring. +At Venice, where it was difficult to elude the influence of the climate, +and of the manners of the time, and where he shared for a time the mode +of life of its young men, it was still charity, and not pleasure, that +absorbed the better part of his income. Not satisfied with his casual or +out-of-the-way charities, he granted a large number of small monthly and +weekly pensions. On definitely leaving Venice to reside in Ravenna, he +decided that,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298] </a></span> in spite of his absence, these pensions should continue +until the expiration of his lease of the Palazzo Mocenigo. Venice +watched him as jealously as a miser watches his treasure, and when he +left it the honest poor were grieved and the dishonest vexed. Listening +to these, one might have been led to believe, that Lord Byron had by a +vow bound himself and his fortune to the service of Venice, and that his +departure was a spoliation of their rights.<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p> + +<p>In Ravenna his presence had been such a blessing, that his departure was +considered a public calamity, and the poor of the city addressed a +petition to the legate, that he might be entreated to remain.</p> + +<p>Not a quarter of his fortune, as Shelley said in extolling his +munificence, but the half of it, did he expend in alms. In Pisa, in +Genoa, in Greece, his purse was ever open to the needy.</p> + +<p>"Not a day of his life in Greece," says his physician, Doctor Bruno, +"but was marked by some charitable deed: not an instance is there on +record of a beggar having knocked at Lord Byron's door who did not go on +his way comforted; so prominent among all his noble qualities was the +tenderness of his heart, and its boundless sympathy with suffering and +affliction. His purse was always opened to the poor." After quoting +several traits of benevolence, he goes on to say:—"Whenever it came to +the knowledge of Lord Byron that any poor persons were lying ill, +whatever the maladies or their cause, without even being asked to do it, +my lord immediately sent me to attend to the sufferers. He provided the +medicines, and every other means of alleviation. He founded at his own +expense a hospital in Missolonghi."<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p> + +<p>This noble quality of his heart had the ring of true generosity; that +generosity which springs from the desire and pleasure to do good, and +which is so admirable, that in his own estimate of benevolence he always +linked it with a sense of order. It never had any thing in common with +the capricious munificence of a spendthrift. His exceeding delicacy, the +loyalty and noble pride of his soul, inspired him with the deepest +aversion for that egotism and vanity which alike ignores its own duties +and the rights of others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299] </a></span></p> + +<p>Lord Byron was, therefore, very methodical in his expenditure. Without +stooping to details, he was most careful to maintain equilibrium between +his outlay and his income. He attended scrupulously to his bills, and +said he could not go to sleep without being on good terms with his +friends, and having paid all his debts.<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></p> + +<p>He was often tormented, if his agents were tardy in making remittances, +with the dread of not being able to meet his engagements. Of his own +gold he was liberal, but he respected the coffers of his creditors.</p> + +<p>"I have the greatest respect for money," he often said in jest. He cared +for it, indeed, but as a means of obtaining rest for his mind, and +especially of helping the poor. Although so generous, he was sometimes +annoyed and sorry at the thought of having ill-spent his money, because +he had in the same ratio diminished his power of doing good.</p> + +<p>We should have given but an unfair idea of the lofty nature of his +generosity, if we did not add that it was not sustained by any illusory +hopes of gratitude. These illusions his confiding heart had entertained +in early manhood, and were those the loss of which he most regretted; +but their flight, though causing bitter disappointment, left his conduct +uninfluenced. He expected ingratitude, and was prepared for it; he +<i>gave</i>, he said, and <i>did not lend</i>; and preferred to expose himself to +ingratitude rather than to forsake the unhappy.</p> + +<p>We fain would have concluded this long chapter, devoted to the proofs of +his goodness in all its manifestations, by gathering the principal +testimonies of that goodness which were received after Byron's death, +and show it in its original character and in its modifications through +life. But we must confine ourselves to the mention of a few testimonies +only, taken from among those borne him at the outset and at the end of +his life, so as to extend throughout its course, and to show what those +who knew him personally, and well, thought of it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Pigott, a friend and companion of Byron's, who lived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300] </a></span> at Southwell, +in the neighborhood of Newstead, who travelled with Byron during his +holidays, told Moore that few people understood Byron; but that he knew +well how naturally sensitive and kind-hearted he was, and that there was +not the slightest particle of malignity in his whole composition. Mr. +Pigott, who thus spoke of Byron, was one of the most revered magistrates +of his county, and the head of that family with whom Byron was wont to +spend his holidays, and who loved him, both before and after his death, +as good people only can love and mourn. "Never," says Moore, "did any +member of that family allow that Byron had a single fault."</p> + +<p>Mr. Lake, another biographer of Byron, says, "I have frequently asked +the country people what sort of a man Lord Byron was. The impression of +his eccentric but energetic character was evident in the reply. 'He's +the devil of a fellow for comical fancies—He flogs th' oud laird to +nothing, but he's a hearty good fellow for all that.'"</p> + +<p>Here is Dallas's opinion, which can not be suspected of partiality, for +reasons which we have elsewhere given; for he believed himself +aggrieved, and considered as a great culprit the man who, ever so +slightly, could depart from the orthodox religious teachings; who had +not a blind admiration of his country; who could suffer his heart to be +possessed by an affection which marriage had not legitimatized; who +preferred to family pride the satisfaction of paying the debts +bequeathed to him by his ancestors, and who could make use of his right +of selling his lands. Yet, notwithstanding all this, Mr. Dallas +expresses himself to the following effect:—"At this time (1809), when +on the eve of publishing his first satire, and before taking his seat in +the House of Lords, I saw Lord Byron every day. (This was the epoch of +his misanthropy). Nature had gifted him with most amiable sentiments, +which I frequently had occasion to notice, and I have often seen these +imprint upon his fine countenance a really sublime expression. His +features seemed made expressly to depict the conceptions of genius and +the storms of passion. I have often wondered with admiration at these +curious effects. I have seen his face lighted up by the fire of poetical +inspiration, and, under the influence of strong emotions, sometimes +express the highest degree of energy, and at others all the softness and +grace of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301] </a></span> mild and gentle affection. When his soul was a prey to passion +and revenge, it was painful to observe the powerful effect upon his +features; but when, on the contrary, he was conquered by feelings of +tenderness and benevolence (which was the natural tendency of his +heart), it was delightful to contemplate his looks. I went to see Lord +Byron the day after Lord Falkland's death. He had just seen the +inanimate body of the man with whom, a few days before, he had spent +such an agreeable time. At intervals, I heard him exclaim to himself, +and half aloud, 'Poor Falkland!' His look was even more expressive than +were his words. 'But his wife,' added he, 'she is to be pitied!' One +could see his soul filled with the most benevolent intentions, which +were sterile.<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> If ever pure action was done, it was that which he +then meditated; and the man who conceived it, and who accomplished it, +was then progressing through thorns and thistles, toward that free but +narrow path which leads to heaven."</p> + +<p>Several years later, Mr. Hoppner, English Consul at Venice, and who +spent his life with Byron in that city, wrote in a narrative of the +causes which created so much disgust in Byron for English travellers, +that Byron's affected misanthropy, as observable in his first poems, was +by no means natural to him; and he adds, that he is certain that he +never met with a man so kind as Byron.</p> + +<p>We might stop here, certain as we are that all loyal and reasonable +readers are not only convinced of Byron's goodness, but experience a +noble pleasure in admiring it. We can not, however, close this chapter, +without calling the attention of our readers to the last and painful +proofs given of this kindness and goodness of Byron's nature: we allude +to the extraordinary grief, caused by his death.</p> + +<p>"Never can I forget the stupefaction," says an illustrious writer, "into +which we were plunged by the news of his death, so great a part of +ourselves died with him, that his death appeared to us almost +impossible, and almost not natural. One would have said that a portion +of the mechanism of the universe had been stopped. To have questioned +him, to have blamed him, became a remorse for us, and all our +veneration<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302] </a></span> for his genius was not half so energetically felt as our +tenderness for him.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"'His last sigh dissolved the charm, the disenchanted earth<br /> +Lost all her lustre. Where her glittering towers?<br /> +Her golden mountains where? All darkened, down<br /> +To naked waste a dreary vale of years!<br /> +The great magician's dead!'"—<span class="smcap">Young.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Such griefs are certainly reasonable, just, and honorable: for the +deaths which bury such treasures of genius are real public calamities. +On hearing of Byron's death, one might repeat the beautiful and eloquent +words of M. de Saint Victor:</p> + +<p>"What a great crime death has committed! It is something like the +disappearance of a star, or the extinction of a planet, with all the +creation it supposed. When great minds have accomplished their task, +like Shakspeare, Dante, Goethe, their departure from the scene of the +world leaves in the soul the sublime melancholy which presides over the +setting of the sun, after it has poured out all its rays. But when we +hear of the death of a Raphael, of a Mozart, and especially of Byron, +struck down in their flight, just at the time when they were extending +their course, we can not refrain from calling these an eternal cause for +mourning, irreparable losses, and inconsolable regrets! A genius who +dies prematurely carries treasures away with him! How many ideal +existences were linked with his own! What sublime thoughts vanish from +his brow! What great and charming characters die with him, even before +they are born! How many truths postponed, at least, for humanity!"</p> + +<p>And we will add: to how many great and noble actions his death has put +an end!</p> + +<p>Such regrets do honor as much to those who experience them as to those +who give them rise. But it is not to the enthusiasm created by his +genius, nor to the grief evinced by the Greek nation, for whom he died, +that we will turn for a last proof of the goodness of his nature. Such +regrets might almost be called interested,—emanating, as they do, from +the knowledge of the loss of a treasure. Of the tears of the heart, +which were shed for the man without his genius, shall we ask that last +proof.</p> + +<p>These are the words by which Count Gamba describes his affliction:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"In vain should I attempt to describe the deep, the distressing sorrow +that overwhelmed us all. I will not speak of myself, but of those who +loved him less, because they had seen him less. Not only Mavrocordato +and his immediate circle, but the whole city and all its inhabitants +were, as it seemed, stunned by the blow—it had been so sudden, so +unexpected. His illness, indeed, had been known; and for the three last +days, none of us could walk in the streets, without anxious inquiries +from every one who met us, of 'How is my lord?' We did not mourn the +loss of the great genius,—no, nor that of the supporter of Greece—our +first tears were for our father, our patron, our friend. He died in a +strange land, and among strangers: but more loved, more sincerely wept, +he could never have been, wherever he had breathed his last.</p> + +<p>"Such was the attachment, mingled with a sort of reverence and +enthusiasm, with which he inspired those around him, that there was not +one of us who would not, for his sake, have willingly encountered any +danger in the world. The Greeks of every class and every age, from +Mavrocordato to the meanest citizen, sympathized with our sorrows. It +was in vain that, when we met, we tried to keep up our spirits—our +attempts at consolation always ended in mutual tears."</p> + +<p>None but beautiful souls, and those who are really thoroughly good, can +be thus regretted; and heartfelt tears are only shed for those who have +spent their life in drying those of others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Galt's Life of Byron, p. 329.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> See chapter "Generosity raised to a Virtue."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> When travelling in Greece, he often found himself in +straitened circumstances, merely because he had helped a friend. +</p><p> +"It is probable," he wrote to his mother from Athens in 1811, "I may +steer homeward in spring: but, to enable me to do that, I must have +remittances. My own funds would have lasted me very well: but I was +obliged to assist a friend, who I know will pay me, but in the mean time +I am out of pocket."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> It may be observed here, that he was not willing, even to +confide to paper, the nature and degree of the act of kindness. Hodgson +wanted thirty-five thousand francs to establish himself. Byron actually +borrowed this amount, to give it to him, as he had not the sum at his +disposal.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Vide Kennedy.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> "Yesterday I paid him (to Scroope Davies) four thousand +eight hundred pounds, ... and my mind is much relieved by the removal of +that debt," he says in his memorandum of 1813. All his difficulties were +inherited from his father, and not contracted by him personally.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> Although not rich, and on the point of undertaking a long +and expensive journey, he devoted a large sum to the alleviation of the +wants of that family.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>QUALITIES AND VIRTUES OF SOUL.</h3> + +<p class="center"><b>ANTIMATERIALISM.</b></p> + + +<p>Among Lord Byron's natural qualities we may rank his antipathy, not only +for any thing like low sensuality or gross vice, but even for those +follies to which youth and human nature are so prone. Whatever may have +been said on this head, and notwithstanding the countenance Lord Byron's +own words may have lent to calumnies too widely believed, it will be +easy to prove the truth of our assertion. Let us examine his actions, +his words (when serious), the testimony of those who knew him through +life, and it will soon appear that this natural antipathy with him often +attained to the height of rare virtue.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron had a passionate nature, a feeling heart, a powerful +imagination; and it can not be denied that, after the disappointment he +experienced in his ethereal love entertained at fifteen, he fell into +the usual round of university life. But as he possessed great refinement +of mind, never losing sight of an ideal of moral beauty, such an +existence speedily became odious to him. His companions thought it all +quite natural and pleasant; but he disapproved of it and blamed himself, +feeling ashamed in his own conscience.</p> + +<p>It is well known that Lord Byron never spared himself. He invented +faults rather than sought to extenuate them. And so he fully merits +belief, when he happens to do himself justice. Let us attend to the +following:—</p> + +<p>"I passed my degrees in vice," he says, "very quickly, <i>but they were +not after my taste</i>. For my juvenile passions, though most violent, were +concentrated, and did not willingly tend to divide and expand on several +objects. I could have renounced every thing in the world with those I +loved, or lost it all for them; but fiery though my nature was, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305] </a></span><i>I +could not share without disgust in the dissipation common to the place, +and time.</i>"</p> + +<p>This makes Moore say, that even at the period to which we are alluding, +his irregularities were much less sensual, much less gross and varied +than those of his companions.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless it was his boyish university life that caused Lord Byron to +be suspected of drawing his own likeness, when two years later, after +his return from the East, he brought out "Childe Harold"—an imaginary +hero, whom he imprudently surrounded with real circumstances personal to +himself.</p> + +<p>Moore, with his usual good sense, protests strongly against such +injustice, saying that, however dissipated his college and university +life might have been during the two or three years previous to his first +travels, no foundation exists, except in the imagination of the poet, +and the credulity or malice of the world, for such disgraceful scenes as +were represented to have taken place at Newstead, by way of inferences +drawn from "Childe Harold." "In this poem," adds Moore, "he describes +the habitation of his hero as a monastic dwelling——</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">'Condemn'd to uses vile!</span><br /> +Where Superstition once had made her den<br /> +Now Paphian girls were known to sing and smile.'"<br /> +</div> + +<p>These exaggerated, if not imaginary descriptions, were, nevertheless, +taken for serious, and literally believed by the greater part of his +readers.</p> + +<p>Moore continues: "Mr. Dallas, giving way to the same exaggerated tone, +says, in speaking of the preparations for departure made by the young +lord, 'He was already satiated with pleasure, and disgusted with those +comrades who possessed no other resource, so he resolved to overcome his +senses, and accordingly dismissed his harem.' The truth is, that Lord +Byron did not then even possess sufficient fortune to allow himself this +Oriental luxury; his manner of living at Newstead was plain and simple. +His companions, without being insensible to the pleasures afforded by +liberal hospitality, were all too intellectual in their tastes and +habits to give themselves up to vulgar debauchery. As to the allusions +regarding his <i>harem</i>, it appears certain that one or two women were +suspected <i>subintroductæ</i>—to use the style of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306] </a></span> old monks of the +Abbey—but that even these belonged to the servants of the house. This +is the utmost that scandal could allege as the groundwork for suspicion +and accusation."</p> + +<p>These assertions of Moore have been corroborated by many other +testimonies. I will only relate that mentioned by Washington Irving, in +the account of his visit to Newstead Abbey in 1830. Urged by +philosophical curiosity, Washington Irving managed to get into +conversation with a certain Nanny Smith, who had passed all her life at +Newstead as house-keeper. This old woman, after having chattered a great +deal about Lord Byron and the ghosts that haunted the Abbey, asserting +that though she had not seen them, she had heard them quite well, was +particularly questioned by Mr. Irving as to the mode of life her young +master led. She certified to his sobriety, and positively denied that he +had led a licentious life at Newstead with his friends, or brought +mistresses with him from London.</p> + +<p>"Once, it is true," said the old lady, "he had a pretty <i>youth</i> for a +<i>page</i> with him. The maids declared it was a young woman. But as for me, +I never could verify the fact, and all these servant-girls were jealous, +especially one of them called Lucy. For Lord Byron being kind to her, +and a fortune-teller having predicted a high destiny for her, the poor +little thing dreamed of nothing else but becoming a great lady, and +perhaps of rising to be mistress of the Abbey. Ah, well! but her dreams +came to nothing."<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p> + +<p>"Lord Byron," added the old lady, "passed the greater part of his time +seated on his sofa reading. Sometimes he had young noblemen of his +acquaintance with him. Then, it is true, they amused themselves in +playing all sorts of tricks—youthful frolics, that was all; they did +nothing improper for young gentlemen, nothing that could harm any +body."<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></p> + +<p>"Lord Byron's only amusements at Newstead," says Mr. Irving, "were +boating, boxing, fencing, and his dogs."</p> + +<p>"His constant occupation was to write, and for that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307] </a></span> had the habit of +sitting up till two and three in the morning. Thus his life at Newstead +was quite one of seclusion, entirely devoted to poetry."</p> + +<p>After having passed a year in this way at Newstead, following on his +college and university life, he left England in order to mature his mind +under other skies, to forget the injustice of man and the hardships of +fortune that had already somewhat tinged his nature with gloom.</p> + +<p>Instead of going in quest of emotions, his desire was, on the contrary, +to avoid both those of the heart and of the senses. The admiration felt +by the young traveller for charming Spanish women and beautiful Greeks +did not outstep the limits of the purest poetry. Nevertheless the +stoicism of twenty, with a heart, sensibility and imagination like his, +could not be very firm, nor always secure from danger. He did actually +meet with a formidable enemy at Malta; for he there made acquaintance +with Mrs. Spencer Smith, the daughter of one ambassador and the wife of +another, a woman most fascinating from her youth, beauty, mind, and +character, as well as by her singular position and strange adventures. +Did he avoid her so much as the stanzas addressed to the lovely +Florence, in the first canto of "Childe Harold," would fain imply? This +may be doubted, on account of the ring which they exchanged, and also +from several charming pieces of verse that testify to another sentiment.</p> + +<p>In any case, he showed strength of mind, and that his senses were under +the dominion of reason; for, unable to secure her happiness or his own, +he sought a remedy in flight.</p> + +<p>When writing "Childe Harold," however, about this period, an evil genius +suggested expressions, that if taken seriously and in their literal +sense, might some day furnish the weapons of accusation to his enemies. +For, while acting thus toward Florence, he introduced the episode into +"Childe Harold" in a way that looks calumnious against himself:——</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Little knew she that seeming marble heart,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now mask'd in silence or withheld by pride,</span><br /> +Was not unskillful in the spoiler's art,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spreads its snares licentious far and wide;</span><br /> +Nor from the base pursuit had turn'd aside,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As long as aught was worthy to pursue."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308] </a></span></div> + +<p>"We have here," says Moore, "another instance of his propensity to +self-misrepresentation. However great might have been the irregularities +of his college life, such phrases as the 'art of the spoiler' and +'spreading snares' were in no-wise applicable to them."<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p> + +<p>Galt expresses the same certainty on this head. "Notwithstanding," says +he, "the unnecessary exposure he makes of his dissipation on his first +entrance into society (in the first two cantos of 'Childe Harold'), it +is proved beyond <i>all dispute</i>, that at no period of his existence did +Lord Byron <i>lead an irregular life</i>. That on one or two occasions he +fell into some excesses, may be true; <i>but his habits were never those +of a libertine</i>."<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> + +<p>And after saying that the declaration by which Byron himself +acknowledges his antipathy to vice carries more weight than all the +rest, and that what he says of it is vague and metaphysical, he +adds:—"But that only further corroborates my impression concerning +him,—that is to say, that he took a sort of vanity in setting forth his +experience in dissipation, but <i>that this dissipation never became a +habit with him</i>."</p> + +<p>His true sentiments at this time are well portrayed in his letters, and +especially in those addressed to his mother from Athens, when she +consulted him on the conduct to be observed toward one of his tenants, a +young farmer, who had behaved ill to a girl. "My opinion is," answered +he, "that Mr. B—— ought to marry Miss K——. <i>Our first duty is not to +do evil</i> (but, alas! that is not possible); our second duty <i>is to +remedy it, if that be in our power</i>. The girl is his equal. If she were +inferior to him, a sum of money and an allowance for the child might be +something,—although, after all, a miserable compensation; but, under +the circumstances, he ought to marry her. I will not have <i>gay seducers</i> +on my estate, nor grant my farmers a privilege <i>I would not take myself +of seducing other people's daughters</i>. I expect, then, this Lothario to +follow my example, and begin by restoring the girl to society, or, by my +father's beard, he shall hear of me."</p> + +<p>To this letter Moore justly adds:—"The reader must not pass lightly +over this letter, for there is a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309] </a></span><i>vigor of moral sentiment</i> in it, +expressed in such a plain, sincere manner, that it shows how full of +health his heart was at bottom, even though it might have been scorched +by passion."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron returned to his own country, after having spent two years +travelling in Spain, Portugal, and the East, in the study and +contemplation requisite for maturing his genius.</p> + +<p>His distaste for all material objects of love or passion, and, in +general, for sensual pleasures, was then remarked by all those who knew +him intimately.</p> + +<p>"An anchorite," says Moore, "who knew Lord Byron about this time, could +not have desired for himself greater <i>indifference toward all the +attractions of the senses</i>, than Lord Byron showed at the age of +twenty-three."</p> + +<p>And as on arriving in London he met with a complication of sorrows, he +could, without any great effort, remain on his guard against all +seductions. He did so in reality; and Dallas assures us that, even when +"Childe Harold" appeared, he still professed positive distaste for the +society of women. Whether this disposition arose from regret at the +death of one he had loved, or was caused by the light conduct of other +women, it is certain that he did not seek their society then; nay, even +avoided them.</p> + +<p>"I have a favor to ask you," he wrote, during this sad time, to one of +his young friends: "never speak to me in your letters of a woman; make +no allusion to the sex. I do not even wish to read a word about the +feminine gender."</p> + +<p>And to this same friend he wrote in verse:——</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"If thou would'st hold</span><br /> +Place in a heart that ne'er was cold,<br /> +By all the powers that men revere,<br /> +By all unto thy bosom dear,<br /> +Thy joys below, thy hopes above,<br /> +Speak—speak of any thing but love."<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Newstead Abbey, October 11, 1811.</i></span><br /> +</div> + +<p>But if he did not seek after women, they came in quest of him. When he +had achieved celebrity—when fame lit up his noble brow—the sex was +dazzled. They did not wait to be sought, but themselves made the first +advances. His table was literally strewn with expressions of feminine +admiration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310] </a></span></p> + +<p>Dallas relates that one day he found Lord Byron so absorbed in answering +a letter that he seemed almost to have lost the consciousness of what +was passing around him.</p> + +<p>"I went to see him again next day," says he, "and Lord Byron named the +person to whom he had written.</p> + +<p>"While we were together, the page of the lady in question brought him a +fresh letter. Apparently it was a young boy of thirteen or fourteen +years of age, with a fresh, delicate face, that might have belonged to +the <i>lady herself</i>. He was dressed in a hussar jacket, and trowsers of +scarlet, with silver buttons and embroidery; curls of fair hair +clustered over part of the forehead and cheeks, and he held in his hand +a little cap with feathers, which completed the theatrical appearance of +this childish Pandarus. I could not help suspecting it was a disguise."</p> + +<p>The suspicions were well founded, and they caused Dallas's hair to stand +on end, for, added to his Puritanism, was the hope of becoming the young +nobleman's Mentor, and he fancied he saw him already on the road to +perdition. But was it likely that Lord Byron, with all his imagination, +sensibility, and warm heart, should remain unmoved—neither touched nor +flattered by the advances of persons uniting beauty and wit to the +highest rank? The world talked, commented, exaggerated. Whether actuated +by jealousy, rancor, noble or despicable sentiments, all took advantage +of the occasion afforded for censure.</p> + +<p>Feminine overtures still continued to be made to Lord Byron, but the +fumes of incense never hid from him the sight of his ideal. And as the +comparison was not favorable to realities, disenchantment took place on +his side, without a corresponding result on the other. <span class="smcap">Thence</span> many +heart-breakings. Nevertheless there was no ill-nature, no indelicacy, +none of those proceedings that the world readily forgives, but which his +feelings as a man of honor would have condemned. Calantha, in despair at +being no longer loved, resolved on vengeance. She invented a tale, but +what does she say when the truth escapes her?</p> + +<p>"If in his manners he (Glenarvon) had shown any of that freedom or +wounding familiarity so frequent with men, she might, perhaps, have been +alarmed, affrighted. But what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311] </a></span> was it she would have fled from? +Certainly not gross adulation, nor those light, easy protestations to +which all women, sooner or later, are accustomed; but, on the contrary, +respect at once delicate and flattering; attention that sought to +gratify her smallest desires; grace and gentleness that, not descending +to be humble, were most fascinating, and such as are rarely to be met +with," etc.</p> + +<p>Let us now reverse the picture, and pass from shade to light: the +difference is striking.</p> + +<p>Passing in review his former life, Lord Byron said one day to Mr. +Medwin:—"You may not compare me to Scipio, but I can assure you that <i>I +never seduced any woman</i>."</p> + +<p>No, certainly he did not pretend to rival Scipio; his fault was, on the +contrary, that he took pleasure in appearing the reverse. And yet Lord +Byron often performed actions during his short life that Scipio himself +might have envied. And who knows whether in any case Scipio could have +had the same merit?—for, in order to attain that, he would have +required to overcome such sensibility, imagination, and heart, as were +possessed by Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>The single fact of being able to say, "I never seduced any woman," is a +very great thing, and we may well doubt whether many of his detractors +could say as much. But let us relate facts.</p> + +<p>In London the mother of a beautiful girl, hard pressed for money, had +recourse to Lord Byron for a large sum, making him an unnatural offer at +the same time. The mother's depravity filled him with horror. Many men +in his place would have been satisfied with expressing this sentiment +either in words or by silence. But that was not enough for his noble +heart, and he subtracted from his pleasures or his necessities a sum +sufficient to save the honor of the unfortunate girl. At another time, +shortly before his marriage, a charming young person, full of talent, +requiring help, through some adverse family circumstances, and attracted +to Lord Byron by some presentiment of his generosity, became +passionately <i>in love</i> with him. She could not live without his image +before her. The history of her passion is quite a romance. Utterly +absorbed by it, she was forever seeking pretexts for seeing him. A word, +a sign, was all she required to become any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312] </a></span> thing he wished. But Lord +Byron, aware he could not make her happy and respectable, never allowed +that word to pass his lips, and his language breathed only counsels of +wisdom and virtue.<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></p> + +<p>Even at Venice, when his heart had no preference, we find him saving a +young girl of noble birth from the danger caused by his involuntary +fascinations.<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> In Romagna, at Pisa, in Greece, he also gave similar +proofs of virtue and of his delicate sense of honor.</p> + +<p>Let us now examine his words. In 1813, with regard to "The +Monk," by Lewis, which he had just read, Lord Byron wrote in his +memoranda:—"These descriptions might be written by Tiberius, at +Caprera. They are overdrawn; the essence of vicious voluptuousness. As +to me, I can not conceive how they could come from the pen of a man of +twenty, for Lewis was only that age when he wrote 'The Monk.' These +pages are not natural; they distill cantharides.</p> + +<p>"I had never read this work, and have just been looking over it out of +sheer curiosity, from a remembrance of the noise the book made, and the +name it gave Lewis. But really such things can not even be dangerous."</p> + +<p>About the same period Mr. Allen, a friend of Lord Holland, very +learned—a perfect Magliabecchi—a devourer of books, and an observer of +mankind, lent Lord Byron a quantity of unpublished letters by the poet +Burns—letters that were very unfit to see the light of day, being full +of oaths and obscene songs. After reading them, Lord Byron wrote in his +memoranda:——</p> + +<p>"What an antithetical intelligence! Tenderness and harshness, refinement +and vulgarity, sentiment and sensuality; now soaring up into ether, and +then dragging along in mud. Mire and sublimity; all that is strangely +blended in this admixture of inspired dust. It may seem strange, but to +me it appears that a true voluptuary should never abandon his thought to +the coarseness of reality. It is only by exalting whatever terrestrial, +material, physical element there is in our pleasures, by veiling these +ideas, or forgetting them quite, or, at least, by never boldly naming +them to ourselves, only thus can we avoid disgust."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313] </a></span></p> + +<p>This is how Lord Byron understood voluptuousness. We might multiply such +quotations without end, taking them from every period of his life; all +would prove the same thing.</p> + +<p>As to his poetry written at this time, especially the lyrical pieces +where he expresses his own sentiments, what can there be more chaste, +more ethereal? When a boy, he begins by consigning to the flames a whole +edition of his first poems, on account of a single one, which the Rev. +Dr. Beecher considered as expressing sentiments too warm for a young +man. In his famous satire, written at twenty, he blames Moore's poetry +for its effeminate and Epicurean tendencies, and he stigmatized as evil +the whole poem of "The Ausonian Nun," and all the sensualities contained +in it. In his "Childe Harold," his Eastern tales, his lyric poems above +all, where he displays the sentiments of his own heart, every thing is +chaste and ethereal. The way in which the public appreciated these poems +may be summed up in the words used by the Rev. Mr. Dallas—the living +type of Puritanism in its most exaggerated form—at a date when, through +many causes, Lord Byron no longer even enjoyed his good graces.</p> + +<p>"After 1816," says he (the time at which Lord Byron left England), "I +had no more personal intercourse with him, but I continued to read his +new poems with the greatest pleasure until he brought out 'Don Juan.' +That I perused with a real sorrow that no admiration could overcome. +Until then his truly English muse had despised the licentious tone +belonging to poets of low degree. But, in writing 'Don Juan,' he allied +his <i>chaste and noble genius</i> with minds of that stamp."</p> + +<p>And then he adds, nevertheless, that into whatsoever error Lord Byron +fell, whatsoever his sin (on account of the beginning of "Don Juan"), he +did not long continue to mix his pure gold with base metal, but ceased +to sully his lyre by degrees as he progressed with the poem.</p> + +<p>Whether Dallas be right or not in speaking thus of "Don Juan," we do not +wish here to examine. In quoting his words, my sole desire is to declare +that, until the appearance of this poem, Lord Byron's muse had been, +even for a Dallas, the <i>chaste muse of Albion</i>. This avowal from such a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314] </a></span> +man is worthy of note, and renders unnecessary any other quotation.</p> + +<p>We must not, however, pass over in silence Mr. Galt's very remarkable +opinion on this subject:—</p> + +<p>"Certainly," says he, "there are some very fine compositions on love in +Lord Byron's works, but there is not a <i>single line</i> among the thousand +he wrote which shows a <i>sexual</i> sentiment. With him, all breathes the +<i>purest</i> voluptuousness. All is vague as regards love, and <i>without +material passion</i>, except in the delicious rhythm of his verses."</p> + +<p>And elsewhere he says:—</p> + +<p>"It is most singular that, with all his tender, passionate apostrophes +to love, Lord Byron <i>should not once have associated it with sensual +images</i>. Not even in 'Don Juan,' where he has described voluptuous +beauties with so much elegance."</p> + +<p>Then, quoting from "Hebrew Melodies,"——</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>She walks in Beauty.</b></span><br /> +<br /> +She walks in beauty, like the night<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of cloudless climes and starry skies;</span><br /> +And all that's best of dark and bright<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meet in her aspect and her eyes:</span><br /> +Thus mellow'd to that tender light<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which heaven to gaudy day denies.</span><br /> +<br /> +One shade the more, one ray the less,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had half impair'd the nameless grace</span><br /> +Which waves in every raven tress,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or softly lightens o'er her face;</span><br /> +Where thoughts serenely sweet express<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.</span><br /> +<br /> +And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,</span><br /> +The smiles that win, the tints that glow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But tell of days in goodness spent,</span><br /> +A mind at peace with all below,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A heart whose love is innocent!</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Behold in these charming lines," continues Galt, "a perfect sample of +his <i>ethereal admiration</i>, his <i>immaterial</i> enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"The sentiment contained in this fine poetry," says he, "beyond all +doubt belongs to the highest order of intellectual beauty;" and it +seemed proved to him that love, in Lord Byron, was rather a metaphysical +conception than a sensual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315] </a></span> passion. He remarked that even when Lord +Byron recalls the precocious feelings of his childhood toward his little +cousins—feelings so strong as to make him lose sleep, appetite, peace; +when he describes them, still unable to explain them—we feel that they +were passions much more ethereal with him than with children in general.</p> + +<p>"It should be duly remarked," says Galt, "that there is not a single +circumstance in his souvenirs which shows, despite the strength of their +natural sympathy, the smallest influence of any particular attraction. +He recollects well the color of her hair, the shade of her eyes, even +the dress she wore, but he remembers his little Mary as if she were a +Peri, a pure spirit; and it does not appear that his torments and his +wakefulness haunted with the thought of his little cousin, were in any +way produced by jealousy, or doubt, or fears, or any other consequence +of passion."</p> + +<p>And when Galt speaks of "Tasso's Lament," he expresses the same opinion, +namely, that in his writings Lord Byron treats of love as of a +metaphysical conception, and that the fine verses he has put into the +mouth of Tasso would still better become himself:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"It is no marvel—from my very birth<br /> +My soul was drunk with love, which did pervade<br /> +And mingle with whate'er I saw on earth:<br /> +Of objects all inanimate I made<br /> +Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers,<br /> +And rocks, whereby they grew, a Paradise,<br /> +Where I did lay me down within the shade<br /> +Of waving trees, and dream'd uncounted hours."<br /> +</div> + +<p>"The truth is," adds Galt, by way of conclusion, "that no poet has ever +described love better than Lord Byron in that particular <i>ethereal</i> +shade:——</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'His love was passion's essence:—as a tree</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On fire by lightning, with ethereal flame</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kindled he was, and blasted; for to be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus, and enamor'd, were in him the same.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But his was not the love of living dame,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor of the dead who rise upon our dreams,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But of ideal beauty, which became</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In him existence, and o'erflowing teems</span><br /> +Along his burning page, distemper'd though it seems.'"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"<i>Childe Harold</i>," canto iii. stanza 78.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>And even if it should be denied that love, in Lord Byron's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316] </a></span> writings, as +indeed in himself, was purely metaphysical, it must, at least, be +acknowledged that it was chaste. This would be more easily recognizable +if the letters dictated by his heart, if his <i>love-letters,</i> were known. +But since we can not open these intimate treasures of his heart to the +public, we will speak of those given us in his writings, and we will +thence draw our conclusions: firstly, in regard to the characters he +gives to all his heroines; secondly, as to the pictures he makes of love +in passages where he speaks seriously, and in his own name.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>LORD BYRON'S FEMALE CHARACTERS.</b></p> + +<p>What poet of energy has ever painted woman more chaste, more gentle and +sweet, than Lord Byron?</p> + +<p>"One of the distinguishing excellences of Lord Byron," says one of his +best critics, "is that which may be found in all his productions, +whether romantic, classical, or fantastical, an intense sentiment of the +loveliness of woman, and the faculty, not only of drawing individual +forms, but likewise of infusing into the very atmosphere surrounding +them, the essence of beauty and love. A soft roseate hue, that seems to +penetrate down to the bottom of the soul, is spread over them."</p> + +<p>More than any other genius, Lord Byron had the magic power of conjuring +up before our imagination the ideal image of his subject. He was not at +all perplexed how to clothe his ideas. That quality, so sought after by +other writers, and so necessary for hiding faults, was quite natural to +him. When he describes women, a few rapid strokes suffice to engrave an +indelible image on the mind of the reader. Let us take for examples:——</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +Leila, in the "Giaour."<br /> +Zuleika, in the "Bride of Abydos."<br /> +Medora, in the "Corsair."<br /> +Theresa, in "Mazeppa."<br /> +Haidée, in "Don Juan."<br /> +Adah, in "Cain."<br /> +</div> + +<p>The gentle Medora, ensconced within the solitary tower where she awaits +her Conrad, is fully portrayed in the melancholy song stealing on the +strings of her guitar, and in the tender, chaste words with which she +greets her lover.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317] </a></span></p> + +<p>Zuleika, the lovely, innocent, and pure bride of Selim, has her image +graven in the following fine lines:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Fair, as the first that fell of womankind,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling,</span><br /> +Whose image then was stamp'd upon her mind—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But once beguiled—and evermore beguiling;</span><br /> +Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendent vision<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given,</span><br /> +When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And paints the lost on Earth revived in Heaven;</span><br /> +Soft as the memory of buried love;<br /> +Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above,<br /> +Was she—the daughter of that rude old Chief,<br /> +Who met the maid with tears—but not of grief.<br /> +<br /> +"Who hath not proved how freely words essay<br /> +To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?<br /> +Who doth not feel, until his failing sight<br /> +Faints into dimness with its own delight,<br /> +His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess<br /> +The might, the majesty of Loveliness?<br /> +Such was Zuleika, such around her shone<br /> +The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone—<br /> +The light of love, the purity of grace,<br /> +The mind, the Music breathing from her face,<br /> +The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,<br /> +And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her graceful arms in meekness bending</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Across her gently-budding breast;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At one kind word those arms extending</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To clasp the neck of him who blest</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">His child, caressing and carest."<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></span> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>Theresa.</b></span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Theresa's form—</span><br /> +Methinks it glides before me now,<br /> +Between me and yon chestnut's bough,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The memory is so quick and warm;</span><br /> +And yet I find no words to tell<br /> +The shape of her I loved so well;<br /> +She had the Asiatic eye,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such as our Turkish neighborhood</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hath mingled with our Polish blood,</span><br /> +Dark as above us is the sky;<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318] </a></span>But through it stole a tender light,<br /> +Like the first moonrise of midnight;<br /> +Large, dark, and swimming in the stream,<br /> +Which seem'd to melt to its own beam;<br /> +All love, half languor, and half fire,<br /> +Like saints that at the stake expire,<br /> +And lift their raptured looks on high,<br /> +As though it were a joy to die.<br /> +A brow like a midsummer lake,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Transparent with the sun therein</span><br /> +When waves no murmur dare to make,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And heaven beholds her face within.</span><br /> +A cheek and lip—but why proceed?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I loved her then, I love her still;</span><br /> +And such as I am, love indeed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In fierce extremes—in good and ill.</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>Leila.</b></span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her eye's dark charm 'twere vain to tell,</span><br /> +But gaze on that of the Gazelle,<br /> +It will assist thy fancy well;<br /> +As large, as languishingly dark,<br /> +But Soul beam'd forth in every spark<br /> +That darted from beneath the lid,<br /> +Bright as the jewel of Giamschid.<br /> +Yea, <i>Soul</i>, and should our Prophet say<br /> +That form was naught but breathing clay,<br /> +By Allah! I would answer nay;<br /> +Though on Al-Sirat's arch I stood,<br /> +Which totters o'er the fiery flood,<br /> +With Paradise within my view,<br /> +And all his Houris beckoning through.<br /> +Oh! who young Leila's glance could read<br /> +And keep that portion of his creed<br /> +Which saith that woman is but dust,<br /> +A soulless toy for tyrant's lust?<br /> +On her might Muftis gaze, and own<br /> +That through her eye the Immortal shone;<br /> +On her fair cheek's unfading hue<br /> +The young pomegranate's blossoms strew<br /> +Their bloom in blushes ever new;<br /> +Her hair in hyacinthine flow,<br /> +When left to roll its folds below,<br /> +As midst her handmaids in the hall<br /> +She stood superior to them all,<br /> +Hath swept the marble where her feet<br /> +Gleam'd whiter than the mountain sleet<br /> +Ere from the cloud that gave it birth<br /> +It fell, and caught one stain of earth.<br /> +The cygnet nobly walks the water;<br /> +So moved on earth Circassia's daughter—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319] </a></span>The loveliest bird of Franguestan!<br /> +As rears her crest the ruffled Swan,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spurns the waves with wings of pride,</span><br /> +When pass the steps of stranger man<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along the banks that bound her tide;</span><br /> +Thus rose fair Leila's whiter neck:—<br /> +Thus arm'd with beauty would she check<br /> +Intrusion's glance, till Folly's gaze<br /> +Shrunk from the charms it meant to praise.<br /> +Thus high and graceful was her gait;<br /> +Her heart as tender to her mate;<br /> +Her mate—stern Hassan, who was he?<br /> +Alas! that name was not for thee!<br /> +</div> + + +<p class="center"><b>ADAH.</b></p> + +<p>Adah is the wife of Cain. It is especially as the drama develops itself +that Lord Byron brings out the full charm of Adah's beautiful nature—a +nature at once primitive, tender, generous, and Biblical.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>Cain.</b></span><br /><br /> +<i>Lucifer.</i> Approach the things of earth most beautiful,<br /> +And judge their beauty near.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Cain.</i> I have done this—<br /> +The loveliest thing I know is loveliest nearest.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lucifer.</i> What is that?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<i>Cain.</i> My sister Adah.—All the stars of heaven,<br /> +The deep blue noon of night, lit by an orb<br /> +Which looks a spirit, or a spirit's world—<br /> +The hues of twilight—the sun's gorgeous coming—<br /> +His setting indescribable, which fills<br /> +My eyes with pleasant tears as I behold<br /> +Him sink, and feel my heart float softly with him<br /> +Along that western paradise of clouds—<br /> +The forest shade—the green bough—the bird's voice—<br /> +The vesper bird's, which seems to sing of love,<br /> +And mingles with the song of cherubim,<br /> +As the day closes over Eden's walls:—<br /> +All these are nothing, to my eyes and heart,<br /> +Like Adah's face: I turn from earth and heaven<br /> +To gaze on it.<br /> +</div> + +<p>Even those charming children of Nature, Haidée and Dudù, in "Don Juan," +and the Neuha, in "The Island," scarcely meant to represent more than +the visible material part of the ideal woman he could love if he met +with her—even these charming creatures possess not only the pagan +beauty of form, but also Christian beauty, that of the soul: <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320] </a></span>goodness, +gentleness, tenderness. And it is also to be remarked, that by degrees, +as time wore on, Lord Byron's female types rose in the moral scale, +while still preserving their adorable charms, and their harmony with the +state of civilization wherein he placed them. For instance, his Haidée, +in the second canto of "Don Juan," written at Venice in 1818, is not +worth, morally, the Haidée of the fourth canto, written at Ravenna in +1820. Beneath his pen at Ravenna, the adorable maiden evidently becomes +spiritualized. This may be attributed to the poet's state of mind, for +he was quite different at Ravenna to what he had been at Venice. The +portrait of this lovely child is certainly very charming in 1818, but, +while admiring her spotless Grecian brow, her beautiful hair, large +Eastern eyes, and noble mouth, we can not help remarking something vague +and undecided about her. And even in those fine verses where he says +that Haidée's face belongs to a type inconceivable for human thought, +and still more impossible of execution for mortal chisel, it is still +the beauty of form that he shows you; while the Haidée of Ravenna is +quite spiritualized in all her exquisite beauty.</p> + +<p>After having described her as she appeared in her delicious Eastern +costume, Lord Byron expresses himself in these terms:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Her hair's long auburn waves down to her heel<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flow'd like an alpine torrent, which the sun</span><br /> +Dyes with his morning light,—and would conceal<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her person if allow'd at large to run;</span><br /> +And still they seem'd resentfully to feel<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The silken fillet's curb, and sought to shun</span><br /> +Their bonds, whene'er some Zephyr, caught, began<br /> +To offer his young pinion as her fan.<br /> +<br /> +"Round her she made an atmosphere of life,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The very air seem'd lighter from her eyes,</span><br /> +They were so soft and beautiful, and rife<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With all we can imagine of the skies,</span><br /> +And pure as Psyche ere she grew a wife—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Too pure even for the purest human ties;</span><br /> +Her overpowering presence made you feel<br /> +It would not be idolatry to kneel."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And, describing the whiteness of her skin, he says:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Day ne'er will break</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On mountain-tops more heavenly white than her;</span><br /> +The eye might doubt of it were well awake,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She was so like a vision."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321] </a></span></div> + +<p>In the sixth canto of "Don Juan"—the hero being in the midst of a +harem—all his sympathies are for Dudù, a beautiful Circassian, who +unites to all the charms, all the moral qualities that a slave of the +harem might possess. This is the portrait which Lord Byron draws:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XLII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"A kind of sleepy Venus seem'd Dudù,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Yet very fit to 'murder sleep' in those</span><br /> +Who gazed upon her cheek's transcendent hue,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Her Attic forehead and her Phidian nose.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">* * * * *</span><br /> + +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XLIII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"She was not violently lively, but<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">* * * * *</span><br /> + +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">LII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Dudù, as has been said, was a sweet creature,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not very dashing, but extremely winning,</span><br /> +With the most regulated charms of feature,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which painters can not catch like faces sinning</span><br /> +Against proportion—the wild strokes of nature<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which they hit off at once in the beginning,</span><br /> +Full of expression, right or wrong, that strike,<br /> +And, pleasing or unpleasing, still are like.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">LIII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"But she was a soft landscape of mild earth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet,</span><br /> +Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which, if not happiness, is much more nigh it</span><br /> +Than are your mighty passions and so forth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which some call 'the sublime:' I wish they'd try it:</span><br /> +I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women,<br /> +And pity lovers rather more than seamen.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">LIV.</span><br /> +<br /> +"But she was pensive more than melancholy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And serious more than pensive, and serene,</span><br /> +It may be, more than either: not unholy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her thoughts, at least till now, appear to have been.</span><br /> +The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen,</span><br /> +That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall;<br /> +She never thought about herself at all.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">LV.</span><br /> +<br /> +"And therefore was she kind and gentle as<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Age of Gold (when gold was yet unknown)."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>As to Neuha, the daughter of Ocean (in "The Island"), his last creation, +she is, indeed, the daughter of Nature also,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322] </a></span> and no less admirable than +her sister Haidée, but she is still more highly endowed in a moral +sense:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"The infant of an infant world, as pure<br /> +From nature—lovely, warm, and premature;<br /> +Dusky like night, but night with all her stars,<br /> +Or cavern sparkling with its native spars;<br /> +With eyes that were a language and a spell,<br /> +A form like Aphrodite's in her shell,<br /> +With all her loves around her on the deep,<br /> +Voluptuous as the first approach of sleep;<br /> +Yet full of life—for through her tropic cheek<br /> +The blush would make its way, and all but speak:<br /> +The sun-born blood suffused her neck, and threw<br /> +O'er her clear nut-brown skin a lucid hue,<br /> +Like coral reddening through the darken'd wave,<br /> +Which draws the diver to the crimson cave.<br /> +Such was this daughter of the southern seas,<br /> +Herself a billow in her energies,<br /> +To bear the bark of others' happiness.<br /> +Nor feel a sorrow till their joy grew less:<br /> +Her wild and warm yet faithful bosom knew<br /> +No joy like what it gave; her hopes ne'er drew<br /> +Aught from experience, that chill touchstone, whose<br /> +Sad proof reduces all things from their hues:<br /> +She fear'd no ill, because she knew it not."<br /> +</div> + +<p>When, after the combat, she arrives in her bark to save Torquil, the +poet exclaims:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"And who the first that springing on the strand,<br /> +Leap'd like a nereid from her shell to land,<br /> +With dark but brilliant skin, and dewy eye<br /> +Shining with love, and hope, and constancy?<br /> +Neuha—the fond, the faithful, the adored—<br /> +Her heart on Torquil's like a torrent pour'd;<br /> +And smiled, and wept, and near, and nearer clasp'd<br /> +As if to be assured 'twas <i>him</i> she grasp'd;<br /> +Shuddered to see his yet warm wound, and then,<br /> +To find it trivial, smiled and wept again.<br /> +She was a warrior's daughter, and could bear<br /> +Such sights, and feel, and mourn, but not despair.<br /> +Her lover lived,—nor foes nor fears could blight,<br /> +That full-blown moment in its all delight:<br /> +Joy trickled in her tears, joy filled the sob<br /> +That rock'd her heart till almost heard to throb;<br /> +And paradise was breathing in the sigh<br /> +Of nature's child in nature's ecstasy."<br /> +</div> + +<p>"All these sweet creations realize the idea, formed from all time, of +surpassing loveliness, of gentleness with passion," justly observes +Monsieur Nisard—he who, in his very clever <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323] </a></span>sketch of the illustrious +poet, so often forms erroneous judgments of Lord Byron. For he also +accepted him as he was presented—namely, as the victim of calumny and +prejudice; or else he considered him after a system, examining only some +<i>passages and one single period</i> of the man's and the <i>poet's</i> life, +instead of taking the whole career and the general spirit of his +writings,—a method also perceivable in his appreciation of Lord Byron's +female characters.</p> + +<p>Indeed Monsieur Nisard evidently only speaks of the Medoras, Zuleikas, +Leilas, and in general of all the types in his Eastern poems, and +appertaining to his first period: most fascinating beings undoubtedly, +true emanations of the purest and most passionate love, but yet as +morally inferior to the Angiolinas, Myrrhas, Josephines, Auroras, as his +poems of the first period are intellectually inferior to those of the +second, beginning with the third canto of "Childe Harold," and as +civilized Christian woman is superior to a woman in the harem. But +Monsieur Nisard, who has a very systematic way of judging +things—wishing to prove that Lord Byron's loves were quite lawless in +their ungovernable strength, filling the whole soul to the absorption of +every other sentiment and interest (which might, indeed, perhaps be said +of the personages in his Eastern poems), and not able, without +contradicting himself, to assert the same as regards the love and +devotion shown by the heroic Myrrhas and virtuous Angiolinas, and other +dramatic types, all so different one from the other—has been obliged to +omit all mention of them, thus sharing an error common to vain, ignorant +critics. Yet these delightful creatures all resemble each other in the +one faculty of <i>loving passionately and chastely</i>, for that is a quality +which constitutes the very essence of woman, and Lord Byron's own +qualities must always have drawn it out in her. But there is something +far beyond beauty and passion in these noble and heroic creations of his +second manner.</p> + +<p>"Where shall we find," says Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, "a purer, higher +character than that of Angiolina, in the 'Doge of Venice?' Among all +Shakspeare's female characters there is certainly not one more true, and +not only true and natural, which would be slight merit, but true as a +type of the highest, rarest order in human nature. Let us stop here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324] </a></span> for +a moment, we are on no common ground; the character of Angiolina has not +yet been understood."</p> + +<p>Bulwer then quotes the scene between Marian and Angiolina, and after +having pointed out its moral beauty, exclaims:—</p> + +<p>"What a deep sentiment of the dignity of virtue! Angiolina does not even +conceive that she can be suspected, or that the insult offered her +required any other justification than the indignation of public +opinion."</p> + +<p>And Bulwer goes on to quote the verses where Marian asks Angiolina if, +when she gave her hand to a man of age so disproportioned, and of a +character so opposite to her own, she loved this spouse, this friend of +her family; and whether, before marriage, her heart had not beat for +some noble youth more worthy to be the husband of beauty like hers; or +whether since, she had met with some one who might have aspired to her +lovely self. And after Angiolina's admirable reply, Bulwer says:—</p> + +<p>"Is not this conception equal at least to that of Desdemona? Is not her +heart equally pure, serene, tender, and at the same time passionate, yet +with love, not material but <i>actual</i>, which, according to Plato, gives a +visible form to virtue, and then admits of no other rival. Yet this +sublime noble woman had no cold stiffness in her nature; she forgives +Steno, but not from the cold height, of her chastity.</p> + +<p>"'If,' said she to the indignant page, 'oh! if this false and light +calumniator were to shed his blood on account of this absurd calumny, +never from that moment would my heart experience an hour's happiness, +nor enjoy a tranquil slumber.'"</p> + +<p>"Here," says Bulwer, "the reader should remark with what delicate +artifice the tenderness of sex and charity heighten and warm the snowy +coldness of her ethereal superiority. What a union of all woman's finest +qualities! Pride that disdains calumny; gentleness that forgives it! +Nothing can be more simply grand than the whole of this character, and +the story which enhances it. An old man of eighty is the husband of a +young woman, whose heart preserves the calmness of purity; no love +episode comes to disturb her serene course, no impure, dishonorable +jealousy casts a shade<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325] </a></span> on her bright name. She treads her path through +a life of difficulties, like some angelic nature, though quite human by +the form she wears."</p> + +<p>Wishing only to call attention to the beauty of the female characters he +created, without reference to the other beauties contained in the work, +we shall continue to quote Bulwer for the second of these admirable +creations of womankind in his dramas, namely, Myrrha. After having +praised that magnificent tragedy "Sardanapalus," he adds:—</p> + +<p>"But the principal beauty of this drama is the conception of Myrrha. +This young Greek slave, so tender and courageous, in love with her lord +and master, yet sighing after her liberty; adoring equally her natal +land and the gentle barbarian: what a new and dramatic combination of +sentiments! It is in this conflict of emotions that the master's hand +shows itself with happiest triumph.</p> + +<p>"The heroism of this beautiful Ionian never goes beyond nature, yet +stops only at sublimest limits. The proud melancholy that blends with +her character, when she thinks of her fatherland; her ardent, generous, +<i>unselfish</i> love, her passionate desire of elevating the soul of +Sardanapalus, so as to justify her devotion to him, the earnest yet +sweet severity that reigned over her gentlest qualities, showing her +faithful and fearless, capable of sustaining with, a firm hand the torch +that was to consume on the sacred pile (according to her religion) both +Assyrian and Greek; all these combinations are the result of the purest +sentiments, the noblest art. The last words of Myrrha on the funereal +pyre are in good keeping with the grand conception of her character. +With the natural aspirations of a Greek, her thoughts turn at this +moment to her distant clime; but still they come back at the same time +to her lord, who is beside her, and blending almost in one sigh the two +contrary affections of her soul, Myrrha cries:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"Then farewell, thou earth!</span><br /> +And loveliest spot of earth! farewell, Ionia!<br /> +Be thou still free and beautiful, and far<br /> +Aloof from desolation! My last prayer<br /> +Was for thee, my last thoughts, save <i>one</i>, were of thee!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Sar</i>. And that?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Myr</i>. Is yours."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"The principal charm," says Moore, "and the life-giving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326] </a></span> angel of this +tragedy, is Myrrha, a beautiful, heroic, devoted, ethereal creature, +enamored of the generous, infatuated monarch, yet ashamed of loving a +barbarian, and using all her influence over him to elevate as well as +gild his life, and to arm him against the terror of his end. Her +voluptuousness is that of the heart, her heroism that of the +affections."</p> + +<p>Another admirable character, full of Christian beauty, is that of +Josephine in "Werner."</p> + +<p>"Josephine," said the "Review," when "Werner" appeared, "is a model of +real spotless virtue. A true woman in her perfection, not only does she +preserve the character of her sex by her general integrity, but she also +possesses a wife's tender, sweet, and constant affection. She cherishes +and consoles her afflicted husband through all the adversities of his +destiny and the consequences of his faults.</p> + +<p>"Italian by birth, the contrast between the beauties and circumstances +of her native country compared with the frontiers of Silesia, where a +pretty feudal tyranny exists, displays still more the fine sentiments +that characterize her."</p> + +<p>We shall close this long list of admirable conceptions (which one quits +with regret, so great is their charm) by giving some extracts from the +portrait he was engaged on, when death, alas! caused the pencil to drop +from his fingers: we mean Aurora Raby in "Don Juan:"—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Aurora Raby, a young star who shone<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O'er life, too sweet an image for such glass;</span><br /> +A lovely being, scarcely form'd or moulded,<br /> +A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +"Early in years, and yet more infantine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In figure, she had something of sublime</span><br /> +In eyes which sadly shone, as seraphs' shine.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All youth—but with an aspect beyond time;</span><br /> +Radiant and grave as pitying man's decline;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mournful—but mournful of another's crime,</span><br /> +She look'd as if she sat by Eden's door,<br /> +And grieved for those who could return no more."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And then:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"She was a Catholic, too, sincere, austere,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As far as her own gentle heart allow'd."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>And again:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As seeking not to know it; silent, lone,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327] </a></span>As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And kept her heart serene within its zone.</span><br /> +There was awe in the homage which she drew:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her spirit seem'd as seated on a throne</span><br /> +Apart from the surrounding world, and strong<br /> +In its own strength—most strange in one so young!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +"High, yet resembling not his lost Haidée;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Yet each was radiant in her proper sphere."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">"The difference in them</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Was such as lies between a flower and gem."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"<i>Don Juan</i>," canto xv.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Now that we have seen Lord Byron's ideal of womankind, let us mark with +what sentiments they inspired him, and in what way love always presented +itself to his heart or his imagination. Ever dealing out toward him the +same measure of justice and truth, people have gone on complacently +repeating that his love sometimes became a very frenzy, or anon +degenerated into a sensation rather than a sentiment. And his poetry has +been asserted to contain proof of this in the actions, characters, and +words of the persons there portrayed. I think, then, that the best way +of ascertaining the degree of truth belonging to these asseverations, is +to let him speak himself, on this sentiment, at all the different +periods of his life:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">A spark of that immortal fire</span><br /> +With angels shared, by Allah given<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To lift from earth our low desire.</span><br /> +Devotion wafts the mind above,<br /> +But Heaven itself descends in love;<br /> +A feeling from the Godhead caught,<br /> +To wean from self each sordid thought;<br /> +A Ray of Him who form'd the whole;<br /> +A Glory circling round the soul!<br /> +I grant <i>my</i> love imperfect, all<br /> +That mortals by the name miscall;<br /> +Then deem it evil, what thou wilt;<br /> +But say, oh say, <i>hers</i> was not guilt!<br /> +She was my life's unerring light:<br /> +That quench'd, what beam shall break my night?"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">"<i>The Giaour.</i>"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>In 1817, at Venice, when his heart, at twenty-nine years of age, was +devoid of any real love, and had even arrived at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328] </a></span> never loving, although +suffering deeply from the void thus created, Lord Byron giving vent to +his feelings wrote thus:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With one fair Spirit for my minister,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I might all forget the human race,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, hating no one, love but only her!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye elements!—in whose ennobling stir</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I feel myself exalted—Can ye not</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Accord me such a being? Do I err</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In deeming such inhabit many a spot?</span><br /> +Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot."<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a><br /> +</div> + +<p>At the same period, he also unveils his soul, in guessing that of +Tasso:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"And with my years my soul began to pant<br /> +With feelings of strange tumult and soft pain;<br /> +And the whole heart exhaled into One Want,<br /> +But undefined and wandering, till the day<br /> +I found the thing I sought—and that was thee;<br /> +And then I lost my being, all to be<br /> +Absorb'd in thine; the world was pass'd away;<br /> +<i>Thou</i> didst annihilate the earth to me!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">"<i>The Lament of Tasso.</i>"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>A short time after, having described the charm of the pine forest at +Ravenna, seen by twilight, he begins to paint the happiness of two +loving hearts—of Juan and Haidée, and says:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">VIII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Young Juan and his lady-love were left<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To their own hearts' most sweet society;</span><br /> +Even Time the pitiless in sorrow cleft<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With his rude scythe such gentle bosoms.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">They could not be</span><br /> +Meant to grow old, but die in happy spring,<br /> +Before one charm or hope had taken wing.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">IX.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Their faces were not made for wrinkles, their<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pure blood to stagnate, their great hearts to fail!</span><br /> +The blank gray was not made to blast their hair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But like the climes that know nor snow nor hail,</span><br /> +They were all summer; lightning might assail<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shiver them to ashes, but to trail</span><br /> +A long and snake-like life of dull decay<br /> +Was not for them—they had too little clay.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329] </a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">X.</span><br /> +<br /> +"They were alone once more; for them to be<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus was another Eden; they were never</span><br /> +Weary, unless when separate: the tree<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cut from its forest root of years—the river</span><br /> +Damn'd from its fountain—the child from the knee<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And breast maternal wean'd at once forever,—</span><br /> +Would wither less than these two torn apart;<br /> +Alas! there is no instinct like the heart.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Whom the gods love die young,' was said of yore,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many deaths do they escape by this:</span><br /> +The death of friends, and that which slays even more—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The death of friendship, love, youth, all that is,</span><br /> +Except mere breath;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Perhaps the early grave</span><br /> +Which men weep over, may be meant to save.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XIII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Haidée and Juan thought not of the dead.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The heavens, and earth, and air, seem'd made for them:</span><br /> +They found no fault with Time, save that he fled;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They saw not in themselves aught to condemn;</span><br /> +Each was the other's mirror.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XVI.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Moons changing had roll'd on, and changeless found<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those their bright rise had lighted to such joys</span><br /> +As rarely they beheld throughout their round;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And these were not of the vain kind which cloys,</span><br /> +For theirs were buoyant spirits, never bound<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the mere senses; and that which destroys</span><br /> +Most love, possession, unto them appear'd<br /> +A thing which each endearment more endear'd.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XVII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Oh beautiful! and rare as beautiful!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But theirs was love in which the mind delights</span><br /> +To lose itself, when the old world grows dull.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we are sick of its hack sounds and sights,</span><br /> +Intrigues, adventures of the common school,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its petty passions, marriages, and flights,</span><br /> +Where Hymen's torch but brands one strumpet more,<br /> +Whose husband only knows her not a wh—re.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XVIII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Hard words; harsh truth; a truth which many know.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enough.—The faithful and the fairy pair,</span><br /> +Who never found a single hour too slow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What was it made them thus exempt from care?</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330] </a></span>Young innate feelings all have felt below,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which perish in the rest, but in them were</span><br /> +Inherent; what we mortals call romantic,<br /> +And always envy, though we deem it frantic.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XIX.</span><br /> +<br /> +"This is in others a factitious state,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +But was in them their nature or their fate.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XX.</span><br /> +<br /> +"They gazed upon the sunset: 'tis an hour<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dear unto all, but dearest to <i>their</i> eyes,</span><br /> +For it had made them what they were: the power<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of love had first o'erwhelm'd them from such skies,</span><br /> +When happiness had been their only dower,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And twilight saw them link'd in passion's ties;</span><br /> +Charm'd with each other, all things charm'd that brought<br /> +The past still welcome as the present thought.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XXVI.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Juan and Haidée gazed upon each other<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With swimming looks of speechless tenderness,</span><br /> +Which mix'd all feelings, friend, child, lover, brother;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All that the best can mingle and express</span><br /> +When two pure hearts are pour'd in one another,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And love too much, and yet can not love less;</span><br /> +But almost sanctify the sweet excess<br /> +By the immortal wish and power to bless.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XXVII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Mix'd in each other's arms, and heart in heart,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why did they not then die?—they had lived too long</span><br /> +Should an hour come to bid them breathe apart;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Years could but bring them cruel things or wrong."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">"<i>Don Juan,"</i> canto iv.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>It was this love which caused Campbell the poet to say:</p> + +<p>"If the love of Juan and Haidée is not pure and innocent, and expressed +with delicacy and propriety, then may we at once condemn and blot out +this tender passion of the soul from the list of a poet's themes. Then +must we shut our eyes and harden our hearts against that passion which +sways our whole existence, and quite become mere creatures of hypocrisy +and formality, and accuse Milton himself of madness."</p> + +<p>At Ravenna, where Lord Byron composed so many sublime works, he also +wrote "Sardanapalus" and "Heaven and Earth." He was then thirty-two +years of age. The love predominating in these two dramas is that which +swayed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331] </a></span> his own soul, the same sentiment which, a year later, also +inspired the beautiful poem composed on his way from Ravenna to Pisa.</p> + +<p>No quotation could convey an idea of the noble energetic feeling +animating these two dramas, for adequate language is wanting; impervious +to words, the sentiment they contain is like a spirit pervading, or a +ray of light warming and illuminating them.</p> + +<p>They require to be read throughout. I prefer to quote his words on love, +in the 16th canto of "Don Juan," and in "The Island," because they are +the last traced by his pen. Written a few days previous to his fatal +departure for Greece, it can not be doubted that the sentiment which +dictated them was the same that accompanied him to his last hour.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">CVII.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +"And certainly Aurora had renew'd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In him some feelings he had lately lost,</span><br /> +Or harden'd; feelings which, perhaps ideal,<br /> +Are so divine, that I must deem them real:—<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">CVIII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"The love of higher things and better days;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The unbounded hope, and heavenly ignorance</span><br /> +Of what is call'd the world, and the world's ways;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The moments when we gather from a glance</span><br /> +More joy than from all future pride or praise,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which kindle manhood, but can ne'er entrance</span><br /> +The heart in an existence of its own,<br /> +Of which another's bosom is the zone."<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a><br /> +</div> + +<p>And then, in describing the happiness of two lovers, in his poem of "The +Island," a few days before setting out for Greece, he says again:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Like martyrs revel in their funeral pyre,<br /> +With such devotion to their ecstasy,<br /> +That life knows no such rapture as to die;<br /> +And die they do; for earthly life has naught<br /> +Match'd with that burst of nature, even in thought;<br /> +And all our dreams of better life above<br /> +But close in one eternal gush of love."<br /> +</div> + +<p>After speaking of the religious enthusiast, and saying that his soul +preceded his dust to heaven, he adds:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332] </a></span>—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Is love less potent? No—his path is trod,<br /> +Alike uplifted gloriously to God;<br /> +Or link'd to all we know of heaven below,<br /> +The other better self, whose joy or woe<br /> +Is more than ours."<br /> +</div> + +<p>But enough of quotations; and now what poet has ever written or spoken +of love with words and images more chaste, more truly welling from his +own heart? We feel that he has given us the key to that. And if, after +all these demonstrations, there still remain any readers who continue to +accept as true the pleasantries, satires, and mystifications contained +in some of his verses, I do not pretend to write for them. They are to +be pitied, but there is no hope of convincing them. That depends on +their quality of mind. The only thing possible, then, is to recall some +of those anecdotes which, while justifying them in a measure, yet at the +same time illustrate Lord Byron's way of acting. I will select one. When +Lord Byron was at Pisa a friend of Shelley's, whom he sometimes saw, had +formed a close intimacy with Lady B——, a woman of middle-age but of +high birth. The tie between them was evidently the result of vanity on +Mr. M——'s side, and, as she was the mother of a large family, it was +doubly imperative on her to be respectable. But that did not prevent Mr. +M—— from boasting of his success, and even (that he might be believed) +from going into disgusting details in his eagerness for praise.</p> + +<p>One day that Mr. M—— was in the same <i>salon</i> (at Mrs. Sh——'s house) +with Lord Byron and the Countess G——, the conversation turned upon +women and love in general, whereupon Mr. M—— lauded to the skies the +devotedness, constancy, and truth of the sex. When he had finished his +sentimental "tirade," Lord Byron took up the opposite side, going on as +Don Juan or Childe Harold might. It was easy to see he was playing a +part, and that his words, partly in jest, partly ironical, did not +express his thoughts. Nevertheless they gave pain to Mme. G——, and, as +soon as they were alone, Lord Byron having asked her why she was sad, +she told him the cause.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry to have grieved you," said he, "but how could you think +that I was talking seriously?"</p> + +<p>"I did not think it," she said, "but those who do not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333] </a></span> know you will +believe all; M—— will not fail to repeat your words as if they were +your real opinions; and the world, knowing neither him nor you, will +remain convinced that he is a man full of noble sentiments, and you a +real Don Juan, not indeed your own charming youth, but Molière's Don +Juan!"</p> + +<p>"Very probably," said Lord Byron; "and that will be another true page to +add to M——'s note-book. I can't help it. I couldn't resist the +temptation of punishing M—— for his vanity. All those eulogiums and +sentimentalities about women were to make us believe how charming they +had always been toward him, how they had always appreciated his merits, +and how passionately in love with him Lady B—— is now. My words were +meant to throw water on his imaginary fire."</p> + +<p>Alas! it was on such false appearances that they made up, then and +since, the Lord Byron still believed in by the generality of persons.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron by his marriage gave another pledge of having renounced the +foibles of the heart and the allurements of the senses; and it is very +certain that he redeemed his word. If, through susceptibility or any +other defect, Lady Byron, going back to the past or trusting to vile, +revengeful, and interested spies, did not know how to understand him, +all Lord Byron's friends did, whether or not they dared to say so. And +he himself, who never could tell a lie, has assured us of his married +fidelity.<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> His life in Switzerland was devoted to study, retreat, and +even austerity. How little this stood him in stead with his enemies is +well known. "I never lived in a more edifying manner than at Geneva," he +said to Mr. Medwin. "My reputation has not gained by it. Nevertheless, +when there is mortification, there ought to be a reward."<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></p> + +<p>When he arrived at Milan many ladies belonging to the great world were +most anxious to know him; these presentations were proposed to him, and +he refused. As to his life at Venice, a wicked sort of romance has been +made of it, by exaggerating most ordinary things, and heaping invention +upon invention; but this has been explained with sufficient<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334] </a></span> detail in +another chapter, where all the different causes of these exaggerations +have been shown in their just measure of truth.<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></p> + +<p>Here, then, I will only say, that if, on arriving at Venice, he relaxed +his austerity to lead the life common to young men without legitimate +ties: if, under the influence of that lovely sky, he did not remain +insensible to the songs of the beautiful Adriatic siren, nor trample +under foot the few flowers fate scattered on his path, to make amends +perhaps for the thorns that had so long beset it; if he sometimes +accepted distractions in the form of light pleasures, as well as in the +form of study,<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> did he not likewise always impose hard laborious +occupation upon his mind, thus chaining it to beautiful immaterial +things? Did his intellectual activity slacken? Was his soul less +energetic, less sublime? The works of genius that issued from his pen at +Venice are a sufficient reply. "Manfred," conceived on the summit of the +Alps, was written at Venice; the fourth canto of "Childe Harold" was +conceived and written at Venice. The "Lament of Tasso," "Mazeppa," the +"Ode to Venice," "Beppo" (from his studies of Berni), the first two +cantos of "Don Juan," were all written at Venice.</p> + +<p>Moreover, it was there he collected materials for his dramas; there he +studied the Armenian language, making sufficient progress to translate +St. Paul's Epistles into English. And all that, in less than twenty-six +months, including his journeys to Rome and to Florence. Let moralists +say whether a man steeped in sensual pleasures could have done all that.</p> + +<p>"The truth is," says Moore, "that, so far from the strength of his +intellect being impaired or dissipated by these irregularities, it never +was perhaps at any period of his life more than at Venice in full +possession of all its energies."<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p> + +<p>All the concessions Moore was obliged to make, from a sort of weakness, +not to compromise his position, to certain extreme opinions in politics +or religion, cloaking in reality personal hatred; are they not all +destroyed by this single avowal?</p> + +<p>Shelley, who came to Venice to see Lord Byron, said that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335] </a></span> all he +observed of Lord Byron's state during his visit gave him a much higher +idea of his intellectual grandeur than what he had noticed before. Then +it was, and under this impression, that Shelley sketched almost the +whole poem of "Julian and Maddalo." "It is in this latter character," +says Moore, "that he has so picturesquely personated his noble friend; +his allusions to the 'Swan of Albion,' in the verses written on the +Engancennes hills, are also the result of this fit of enthusiastic +admiration." At Venice Lord Byron saw few English; but those he did see, +and who have spoken of him, have expressed themselves in the same way as +Shelley; which caused Galt to say, that even at Venice, with regard to +his pleasures, his conduct had been that of most young men! but that the +whole difference must have consisted in the extravagant delight he took +in exaggerating, through his conversation, not what was conducive to +honor, but, on the contrary, what was likely to do him harm. The whole +difference, however, does not lie here, but rather in the indiscretion +shown by some friends.<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> Among the best testimonies borne to his way +of living at Venice we must not forget that of Hoppner, who bore so high +a character, and who was the constant companion of his daily afternoon +walks; nor that of the excellent Father Pascal, who shared his morning +studies at the Armenian convent.<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></p> + +<p>But in this united homage to truth I can not pass over in silence nor +refrain from quoting the words of a very great mind, who, under the veil +of fiction, has written almost a biography of Lord Byron, and who too +independent, <i>though a Tory</i>, to <i>wish</i> to conceal his thought, has +declared in the preface to his charming work of "Venetia" that Lord +Byron was really his hero.</p> + +<p>This writer, after speaking of all the silly calumnies with which Lord +Byron was overwhelmed at one time, says of the two more especially +calculated to stir up opinion against him, those which accused him of +<i>libertinism</i> and <i>atheism</i>:—</p> + +<p>"A calm inquirer might, perhaps, have suspected that abandoned +profligacy is not very compatible with severe study, and that an author +is seldom loose in his life, even if <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336] </a></span>he be licentious in his writings. +A calm inquirer might, perhaps, have been of opinion that a solitary +sage may be the antagonist of a priesthood without absolutely denying +the existence of a God; but there never are calm inquirers. The world, +on every subject, however unequally, is divided into parties; and even +in the case of Herbert (Lord Byron) and his writings, those who admired +his genius and the generosity of his soul were not content with +advocating, principally out of pique to his adversaries, his extreme +opinions on every subject—moral, political, and religious. Besides, it +must be confessed, there was another circumstance almost as fatal to +Herbert's character in England as his loose and heretical opinions. The +travelling English, during their visits to Geneva, found out that their +countryman solaced or enlivened his solitude by unhallowed ties. It is a +habit to which very young men, who are separated from or deserted by +their wives, occasionally have recourse. Wrong, no doubt, as most things +are, but, it is to be hoped, venial; at least in the case of any man who +is not also an atheist. This unfortunate mistress of Herbert was +magnified into a <i>seraglio</i>; extraordinary tales of the voluptuous life +of one who generally <i>at his studies outwatched the stars</i>, were rife in +English society; and</p> + +<p class="center"> +'Hoary marquises and stripling dukes,'<br /> +</p> + +<p>who were either <i>protecting opera-dancers</i>, or, still worse, <i>making +love to their neighbors' wives</i>, either looked grave when the name of +Herbert (Lord Byron) was mentioned in female society, or affectedly +confused, as if they could a tale unfold, if they were not convinced, +that the sense of propriety among all present was infinitely superior to +their sense of curiosity."</p> + +<p>In addition to all the proofs given by the varied uses Lord Byron made +of his intellect we must not omit those furnished by the state of his +heart. If, too readily yielding at Venice to momentary and fleeting +attractions, Lord Byron had been led to squander the powers of youth, to +wish to extinguish his senses in order to open out a more vast horizon +to his intelligence; if, thus mistaking the means, he had, nevertheless, +weakened, enervated, degraded himself, would not his heart have been the +first victim sacrificed on the altar of light pleasures?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337] </a></span></p> + +<p>But, on the contrary, this heart which he had never succeeded in lulling +into more than a slumber, when the hour of awakening came, held dominion +by its own natural energy over the proud aspirations of his +intelligence, and found both his youth and faculty of loving unweakened, +and that he had a love capable of every sacrifice, a love as fresh as in +his very spring-tide.</p> + +<p>Are such metamorphoses possible to withered souls? Moralists have never +met with a like phenomenon. On the contrary, they certify that in hearts +withered by the enjoyments of sense all generous feelings, all noble +aspirations become extinct.</p> + +<p>If Lord Byron's anti-sensuality were not sufficiently proved by his +actions, words, writings, and by the undeniable testimony of those who +knew him, it might still be abundantly proved by his habits of life, and +all his tastes; to begin with his sobriety, which really was wonderful. +So much so, that if the proverb, <i>Tell me what you eat, and I will tell +you what you are</i>, be true, and founded on psychological observation, +one must admit that Lord Byron was almost an immaterial being.</p> + +<p>His fine health, his strong and vigorous constitution, lead to the +presumption that, at least in childhood and during his boyish days, his +rule of life could not have differed from that of the class to which he +belonged. Nevertheless, his sobriety was remarkable even in early youth; +at eighteen he went with a friend, Mr. Pigott, to Tunbridge Wells, and +this gentleman says, "We retired to our own rooms directly after dinner, +for Byron did not care for drinking any more than myself."</p> + +<p>But this natural sobriety became soon after the sobriety of an +anchorite, which lasted more or less all his life, and was a perfect +phenomenon. Not that he was insensible to the pleasures of good living, +and still less did he act from any vanity (as has been said by some +incapable of sacrificing the bodily appetites to the soul); his conduct +proceeded from the desire and resolution of making <i>matter</i> subservient +to the <i>spirit</i>.</p> + +<p>His rule of life was already in full force when he left England for the +first time. Mr. Galt, whom chance associated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338] </a></span> with Lord Byron on board +the same vessel bound from Gibraltar to Malta, affirms that Lord Byron, +during the whole voyage, seldom tasted wine; and that, when he did +occasionally take some, it was never more than half a glass mixed with +water. He ate but little; and never any meat; only bread and vegetables. +He made me think of the ghoul taking rice with a needle."</p> + +<p>On board "La Salsette," returning from Constantinople, he himself wrote +to his friend and preceptor Drury, that the gnats which devoured the +<i>delicate body</i> of Hobhouse had not much effect on him, because he lived +in a <i>more sober manner</i>.</p> + +<p>As to his mode of living during his two years' absence from England we +can say nothing, except that he lived in climates where sobriety is the +rule, and that his letters expressed profound disgust at the complaints, +exacting tone, and effeminate tastes of his servants, and his own +preference for a monastic mode of life, and very probably also for +monastic diet. The testimony to his extraordinary sobriety becomes +unanimous as soon as he returns home.</p> + +<p>Dallas, who saw him immediately on his landing in 1811, writes:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron has adopted a mode of diet that any one else would have +called dying of hunger, and to which several persons even attributed his +lowness of spirits. He lived simply on small sea-biscuits, very thin; +only eating two of these, and often but one, a day, with one cup of +<i>green tea</i>, which he generally drank at one in the afternoon. He +assured me that was all the nourishment he took during the twenty-four +hours, and that, so far from this régime affecting his spirits, it made +him feel lighter and more lively; and, in short, gave him <i>greater +command over himself in all respects. This great abstinence is almost +incredible.... He thought great eaters were generally prone to anger, +and stupid.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></p> + +<p>It was about this time that he made the personal acquaintance of Moore +at a dinner given by Rogers for the purpose of bringing them together +and of reconciling them.</p> + +<p>"As none of us," says Moore, "knew about his singular régime, our host +was not a little embarrassed on discovering,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339] </a></span> that there was nothing on +the table which his noble guest could eat or drink. Lord Byron did not +touch meat, fish, or wine; and as to the biscuits and soda-water he +asked for, there were, unfortunately, none in the house. He declared he +was equally pleased with potatoes and vinegar, and on this meagre +pittance he succeeded in making an agreeable dinner."<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></p> + +<p>About the same time, being questioned by one of his friends, who liked +good living, as to what sort of table they had at the Alfred Club, to +which he belonged, "It is not worth much," answered Lord Byron. "I speak +from hearsay; for what does cookery signify to a vegetable-eater? But +there are books and quiet; so, for what I care, they may serve up their +dishes as they like."</p> + +<p>"Frequently," says Moore again, "during the first part of our +acquaintance we dined together alone, either at St. Alban's, or at his +old asylum, Stevens's. Although occasionally he consented to take a +little Bordeaux, he <i>always held to his system of abstaining from meat</i>. +He seemed truly persuaded that animal food must have some particular +influence on character. And I remember one day being seated opposite to +him, engaged in eating a beefsteak with good appetite, that, after +having looked at me attentively for several seconds, he said, gravely, +'Moore, does not this eating beefsteaks make you ferocious?'</p> + +<p>"Among the numerous hours we passed together this spring, I remember +particularly his extreme gayety one evening on returning from a soirée, +when, after having accompanied Rogers home, Lord Byron—who, according +to his frequent custom, had not dined the last two days—feeling his +appetite no longer governable, asked for something to eat. Our repast, +at his choice, consisted only of bread and cheese; but I have rarely +made a gayer meal in my life."</p> + +<p>In 1814 he relaxed his diet a little, so far as to eat fish now and +then; but he considered this an excessive indulgence. "I have made a +regular dinner for the first time since Sunday," he writes in his +journal. "Every other day <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340] </a></span>tea and six dry biscuits. This dinner makes +me heavy, stupid, gives me horrible dreams (nevertheless, it only +consisted of a pint of Bucellas and fish; I do not touch meat, and take +but little vegetable). I wish I were in the country for exercise, +instead of refreshing myself with abstinence. <i>I am not afraid of a +slight addition of flesh; my bones can well support that! but the worst +of it is, that the devil arrives with plumpness, and I must drive him +away through hunger!</i> <span class="smcap">i do not wish to be the slave of my appetite</span>. If I +fall, my heart at least shall herald the race."<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p> + +<p>Except the last phrase, which is more worldly or more human, might not +one fancy one's self listening to the confession or soliloquy of some +Christian philosopher of the fourth century: one of those who sought the +Theban deserts to measure their strength of soul and body in desperate +struggles with Nature; the confession of a Hilarion or a Jerome, rather +than that of a young man of twenty-three, brought up amid the +conveniences and luxuries surrounding the aristocracy of the most +aristocratic country in the world, where material comfort is best +appreciated?</p> + +<p>Thus it was, nevertheless, that Lord Byron practiced epicureanism with +regard to his food, making very rare exceptions when he consented to +dine out.</p> + +<p>If time, change of circumstances, and climate, caused some slight +modifications in his manner of living, his mode of life did not vary. At +Venice, Ravenna, and Genoa, this epicurean would never suffer meat on +his table; and he only made some rare exceptions, to avoid too much +singularity, at Pisa, where he invited some friends to dinner. Count +Gamba, after having spoken of the sobriety of his regimen on board the +vessel that took him to Greece, the Ionian Islands, and finally to +Missolonghi, says, "He ate nothing but vegetables and fish, and drank +only water. Our fear was," says he, "lest this excessive abstinence +should be injurious to his health!"</p> + +<p>Alas! we know that it was. It is certain that this debilitating régime, +joined to such strong moral impressions, too strongly felt, undermined +Lord Byron's fine constitution, which had only resisted so long through +its extreme vigor and the rare purity of his blood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341] </a></span></p> + +<p>The bodily exercise he took had the same object, and further added to +the injurious effect of his obstinate fasts. "I have not left my room +these four days past," he writes in his memorandum, April, 1814, at a +moment when his heart was agitated by a passion; "but I have been +fencing with Jackson an hour a day by way of exercise, <i>so as to get +matter under, and give sway to the ethereal part of my nature</i>. The more +I fatigue myself, the better my mind is for the rest of the day; and +then my evenings acquire that calm, that prostration and languor, that +are such a happiness to me. To-day I fenced for an hour, wrote an ode to +Napoleon Bonaparte, copied it out, ate six biscuits, drank four bottles +of soda-water, read the rest of the time, and then gave a load of advice +to poor H—— about his mistress, who torments him intolerably, enough +to make him consumptive. Ah! to be sure, it suits me well to be giving +lessons to——; it is true they are thrown to the winds."<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p> + +<p>This desire of giving mind dominion over matter is shown equally in all +his tastes, all his preferences. Beauty in art consisted wholly for him +in the expression of heart and soul. He had a horror of realism in art; +the Flemish school inspired him with a sort of nausea. Certain material +points of beauty in women, that are generally admired, had no beauty for +him. The music he liked, and of which he never grew tired, was not +brilliant or difficult, but simple; that which awakens the most delicate +sentiments of the soul, which brings tears to the eye.</p> + +<p>"I have known few persons," says Moore, "more alive than he to the +charms of simple music; and I have often seen tears in his eyes when +listening to the Irish Melodies. Among those that caused him these +emotions was the one beginning—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"When first I met thee, warm and young."<br /> +</p> + +<p>The words of this melody, besides the moral sentiment they express, also +admit a political meaning. Lord Byron rejected this meaning, and +delivered his soul over, with the liveliest motion, to the more natural +sentiment conveyed in that song."</p> + +<p>"Only the fear of seeming to affect sensibility could have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342] </a></span> restrained +my tears," he said once, on hearing Mrs. D—— sing</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Could'st thou look."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"Very often," said Mme. G——, "I have seen him with tears in his eyes +when I was playing favorite airs to him on the piano, of which he never +got tired."<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a></p> + +<p>Stendhall also speaks of Lord Byron's emotion while listening to a piece +of music by Mayer at Milan, and says that if he lived a hundred years he +could never forget the divine expression of his physiognomy while thus +engaged.</p> + +<p>At most, Lord Byron could only admire for a moment material beauty +without expression in women; it might give rise to sensations, but could +never inspire him with the slightest sentiment.</p> + +<p>We have said enough of the female characters he created: sweet +incarnations of the most amiable qualities of heart and soul. Let us add +here, that although greatly alive to beauty of form, he could not +believe in a fine woman's delicate feeling, unless her beauty were +accompanied by expression denoting her qualities of heart and mind. +Beauty of form, of feature, and of color were nothing to him, if a woman +had not also beauty of expression; if he could not see, he said, beauty +of soul in her eyes. "Beauty and goodness have always been associated in +my idea," said he, at Genoa, to the Countess B——, "for in my +experience I have generally seen them go together. What constitutes true +beauty for me," added he, "is the soul looking through the eyes. +Sometimes women that were called beautiful have been pointed out to me +that could never in the least have excited my feelings, because they +wanted physiognomy, or expression, which is the same thing; while +others, scarcely noticed, quite struck and attracted me by their +expression of face."</p> + +<p>He admired Lady C—— very much, because, he said, her beauty expressed +purity, peace, dreaminess, giving the idea that she had never inspired +or experienced aught but holy emotions. He once thought of marrying +another young lady, because she excited the same feelings. All the women +who more or less interested him in England were remarkable for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343] </a></span>their +intellect or their education, including her whom he selected for his +companion through life. Only, with regard to her, he trusted too much to +reputation and appearance; he saw what she had, not what was wanting. +She was in great part the cause of his deadly antipathy to regular "blue +stockings;" but that did not change the necessity of intellect for +exciting his interest. It only required, he said, for the <i>dress to hide +the color of the stockings</i>. The name he gave to his natural daughter +belonged to a Venetian lady, whose cleverness he admired, and with whom +his acquaintance consisted in a mere exchange of thought. Often he has +been heard to say that he could never have loved a silly woman, however +beautiful; nor yet a vulgar woman, whether the defect were the result of +birth, or education, or tastes. He felt no attraction for that style of +woman since called "fast." Even among the light characters whose +acquaintance he permitted to himself at Venice, he avoided those who +were too bold. There lived then at Venice Mme. V——, a perfect siren. +All Venice was at her feet; Lord Byron would not know her, and at +Bologna he refused to make acquaintance with a person of still higher +rank, Countess M——, who was both charming and estimable, but who had +the fault in his eyes of attracting too much general admiration. Her air +of modesty and reserve was what principally drew him toward Miss +Milbank. At Ferrara, where he met Countess Mosti and thought her most +delightful, he did not feel the same sympathy for her sister, who was, +however, much more brilliant, and whose singing excited the admiration +of every one.</p> + +<p>In order to be truly loved by Lord Byron, it was requisite for a woman +to live in a sort of illusive atmosphere for him, to appear somewhat +like an immaterial being, not subject to vulgar corporeal necessities. +Thence arose his antipathy (considered so singular) to see the woman he +loved eat. In short, spiritual and manly in his habits, he was equally +so with his person.</p> + +<p>It sufficed to see his face, upon which there reigned such gentleness +allied to so much dignity; and his look, never to be forgotten; and the +unrivalled mouth, which seemed incapable of lending itself to any +material use; a simple glance enabled one to understand that this +privileged being was endowed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344] </a></span>with all noble passions, joined to an +instinctive horror of all that is low and vulgar in human nature. "His +beauty was quite independent of his dress," said Lady Blessington.</p> + +<p>If, then, his nails were roseate as the shells of the ocean (according +to her expression); if his complexion was transparent; his teeth like +pearls; his hair glossy and curling; he had only to thank Providence for +having lavished on him and preserved to him so many free gifts. But it +is not easy to persuade others of such remarkable exceptions to the +general rule. Those who do not possess the same advantages are +incredulous; and, indeed, there were not wanting persons to deny, at +least in part, that he had them.</p> + +<p>Soon after his death an account of him was published in the "London +Magazine," containing some truths mixed up with a heap of calumnies. +Among other things, it was said "that Lord Byron constantly wore +gloves." To which Count Pietro Gamba replied, "<i>That is not true</i>; Lord +Byron wore them less than any other man of his standing."</p> + +<p>Another declared that his fingers were loaded with rings; he only wore +one, which was a token of affection. In his rooms hardly ordinary +comforts could be found. He was not one to carry about with him the +habits of his own country. Indeed, his habits consisted in having none. +During his travels, the most difficult to please were his valet and +other servants. "On his last journey," says Count Gamba, "he passed six +days without undressing."</p> + +<p>His sole self-indulgence consisted in frequent bathing; for his only +craving was for extreme cleanliness. But, just as the disciples of +Epicurus would never have adopted his regimen, so would they equally +have refused to imitate this last enjoyment; which was a little too +manly for them, for his baths were mostly taken on Ocean's back; +struggling against the stormy wave, and that in all seasons, up to +mid-December. Such was the fastidious delicacy of this epicurean!<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></p> + +<p>But to acknowledge all these things, or even any thing extraordinarily +good in the author of "Don Juan," the "Age<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345] </a></span> of Bronze," the "Vision;" in +a son so <i>wanting in respect</i> for the weaknesses of his mother-country; +in a poet that had dared to chastise powerful enemies, and the limit of +whose audacity was not even yet known, for his death had just condemned, +through revelations and imprudent biographies, many persons and things +to a sorry kind of immortality; to praise him, declare him guiltless, do +him justice,—truly that would have been asking too much from England at +that time. England has since made great strides in the path of generous +toleration and even toward justice to Lord Byron. For vain is calumny +after a time: truth destroys calumny by evoking facts. These form a +clear atmosphere, wherein truth becomes luminous, as the sun in its +atmosphere: for facts give birth to truth, and are mortal to calumny.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> The history of the page is, however, true. Lord Byron was +then nineteen years of age. Not to give his mother the grief of seeing +that he had made an acquaintance she would have disapproved, he brought +Miss —— from Brighton to the Abbey, dressed as a page, that she might +pass for her brother Gordon.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> See "Newstead Abbey," by Washington Irving.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> Moore, vol. i. p. 346.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> See Galt, "Life of Lord Byron."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> See chapter on "Generosity."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> See "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> The heroism of the young Zuleika, says Mr. G. Ellis in his +criticism, is full of purity and loveliness. Never was a more perfect +character traced with greater delicacy and truth; her piety, +intelligence, her exquisite sentiment of duty and her unalterable love +of truth seem born in her soul rather than acquired by education. She is +ever natural, seductive, affectionate, and we must confess that her +affection for Selim is well placed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> "Childe Harold," canto iv. stanza 177.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> See "Don Juan," canto xvi.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> See chapter on Marriage.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> Medwin, p. 13.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> See "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> Moore, vol. ii, p. 182.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> See "Life in Italy," at Venice.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> See "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Dallas, 171.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> Moore, 315.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> Moore, first vol.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> Moore, 315.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> See "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> "He was more a mental being, if I may use this phrase," +said Captain Parry, who knew him at Missolonghi, "than any one I ever +saw; he lived on thoughts more than on food."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>THE CONSTANCY OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>Among Lord Byron's moral virtues, may we count that of constancy? Men in +general, not finding this virtue in their own lives, refuse to believe +in its existence among those who, in exception to the common rule, do +possess it. They must be forced to this act of justice as to many +others. This is comprehensible; constancy is so rare!</p> + +<p>"I less easily believe constancy in men than any thing else," says +Montaigne, "and nothing more easily than inconstancy."</p> + +<p>Besides the difficulties common to every one, Lord Byron had also to +fight against those difficulties peculiar to his sensitive nature and +his vast intelligence.</p> + +<p>"The largest minds," says Bacon, "are the least constant, because they +find reasons for deliberating, where others only see occasion for +acting."</p> + +<p>But if these difficulties overcame Lord Bacon's constancy, could they +have the same power over Lord Byron, who was indeed his equal in mind, +but his opposite in conduct and strength of soul? There are three sorts +of constancy: that of affection, which has its source in goodness of +heart; that of taste, flowing from beauty of soul; that of idea, derived +from rectitude of intelligence.</p> + +<p>Did Lord Byron possess the whole of these, or only a part? As this may +be chiefly proved, not from writings or words, but by conduct, let us +ask the question of those who knew him personally and at all periods of +his life.</p> + +<p>Was he constant in his ideas? Moore, speaking of Lord Byron's +intellectual faculties, of his variableness, of which he makes too much, +for the reasons I have mentioned,<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> and of the danger to which it +exposed his consistency and oneness of character, says:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"The consciousness, indeed, of his own natural tendency to yield thus to +every chance impression, and change with every passing impulse, was not +only forever present to his mind, but, aware as he was of the suspicion +of weakness attached by the world to any retractation or abandonment of +long-professed opinions, had the effect of keeping him in that general +line of consistency, on certain great subjects, which, notwithstanding +occasional fluctuations and contradictions as to the details of these +very subjects, he continued to preserve throughout life. A passage from +one of his manuscripts will show how sagaciously he saw the necessity of +guarding himself against his own instability in this respect:—'The +world,' he says, 'visits change of politics or change of religion with a +more severe censure than a mere difference of opinion would appear to me +to deserve. But there must be some reason for this feeling, and I think +it is that this departure from the earliest instilled ideas of our +childhood, and from the line of conduct chosen by us when we first enter +into public life, have been seen to have more mischievous results for +society, and to prove more weakness of mind than other actions, in +themselves more immoral.'"</p> + +<p>"To superficial observers," says the Hon. Col. Stanhope, "his conduct +might appear uncertain; and that was the case sometimes, but only <i>up to +a certain point</i>. His genius was limitless and versatile, and in +conversation he passed boldly from grave to gay, from light to serious +topics; but nevertheless, <i>upon the whole and in reality</i>, no man was +more constant, I might almost say <i>more obstinate</i>, than Lord Byron <i>in +the pursuit of great objects</i>. For instance, in religion and in +politics, he seemed as firm as a rock, though, like a rock, he was +sometimes subject to great shocks, to the convulsions of nature in +commotion. What I affirm is, that Lord Byron had very fixed opinions on +important matters. It is not from the opinion he wished to give of +himself, nor from what he allowed to escape his lips, that I could have +drawn this conclusion; for, in conversing with me on politics or +religion, and passing capriciously over this latter subject, sometimes +laughing and making strings of jests, he would say, for instance, '<i>the +more I think the more I doubt—I am a thorough skeptic</i>;' but I find +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348] </a></span>these words contradicted in <i>all his actions, and in all his sentiments +seriously expressed from childhood to death</i>. And I opine that although +occasionally he may have appeared changeable, still he always came back +to certain fixed ideas in his mind; that he always entertained a +constant attachment to liberty according to his notions of liberty; and +that, although not orthodox in religion, he <i>firmly believed</i> in the +existence of a God. It is then equally false to represent him as an +atheist or as an orthodox Christian. Lord Byron was, as he often told +me, <i>a thorough deist</i>."<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></p> + +<p>It would be easy to prove in a thousand ways that, despite the danger of +inconstancy resulting from his great sensibility, imagination, and +intellect, no one, more than Lord Byron, steadily and firmly adhered +<i>through life</i> in his actions to the principles which <i>constitute the +man of honor</i>. Chances, caprices, inequalities of temper, which are to +sensitive natures what bubbles are on a lake, all disappeared when these +great principles required to be acted upon; and the effects even of his +well-nigh inexhaustible benevolence were checked, if he had to struggle +against his principles. We find in his memoranda, 1813:—"I like George +Byron" (his cousin, the present lord); "I like him much more than one +generally does one's heirs. He is a fine fellow. I would do any thing to +see him advance in his career as a sailor; <i>any thing except +apostatize</i>!" (Lord Byron was a <i>Whig</i>, and his cousin a <i>Tory</i>.)</p> + +<p>As it is impossible to quote every thing, I will only say that his +passion for firmness and constancy in the principles of honor, went so +far as to inspire him with repugnance for those characters lacking the +firmness and oneness of action which he considered it a sacred duty to +practice. It is even to this sentiment that must be attributed certain +antipathies which he expressed, sometimes by words and sometimes by +silence, and which have been laid to totally different, and quite +impossible motives. For instance, his silence concerning Chateaubriand, +expressive of his little sympathy for the individual (a silence so much +resented by this proud vindictive poet, and for which he revenged +himself in different ways), was not caused solely by the radical +antagonism existing between their two natures. Assuredly, the literary +affectation, the want of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349] </a></span>sincerity, the theatrical and declamatory +nature of Chateaubriand's soul, who was positively ill with insatiable +pride, innate and incurable ennui, all this could little assimilate with +the simplicity, sincerity, passionate tenderness and devotion of Lord +Byron. But his repugnance was especially directed against the skeptic, +who made himself the champion of Catholicism, and the liberal who upheld +the divine right of kings.<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a></p> + +<p>A few days before Lord Byron set out for his last journey to Greece, a +young man (M. Coullmann) arrived at Genoa, bringing him the admiring +homage of many celebrated men in France, who sent him their respective +works. Among the number were Delavigne and Lamartine. Chateaubriand, of +course, was conspicuous by his absence: but an anecdote Coullmann +related, of what had just occurred at Turin, greatly amused Lord Byron. +Chateaubriand had lately been presented in his capacity of ambassador, +whereupon the queen said to him: "Are you any relation to that +Chateaubriand who has written <i>something</i>?"</p> + +<p>Lord Byron, laughing heartily at the anecdote, hastened to go and repeat +it to the Countess G——.</p> + +<p>The same sentiment had disenchanted him with Monti, whom he had so much +admired at Milan, and with several other rival poets.</p> + +<p>When Lord Byron heard it said of any one, "he has changed sides, he has +abandoned his party, he has forfeited his word," one might feel sure +that all his natural indulgence, generally so great, was gone: he looked +upon such a fault as forming only a despicable variety of the vice he +never forgave, viz., untruth. At most, he could only make an exception +in favor of women.</p> + +<p>"I have received a very pretty note from Madame de Staël," we read in +his memoranda of 1813; "her works are my delight, and she also (for half +an hour). But I do not like her politics, or, at least, <i>her changes</i> in +politics. If she had been, <i>æqualis ab incepto</i>, that would be nothing. +But, she is a woman, ... and, intellectually, she has done more than all +the rest of her sex put together."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, constancy in idea being subservient to the consent of the +mind, must undoubtedly have undergone oscillations with Lord Byron. That +was, however, only the case<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350] </a></span> with regard to ideas which could be +discussed, and which required to pass through the ordeal of long +reflection and practice, before being fully adopted by him. But +religious ideas were not of this number; on the contrary, they held the +first place in the order of those to be accepted and raised into +principles by every man of honor and good sense. For, whatever may have +been his fluctuations with regard to certain points of religious +doctrine, sects and modes of worship, it is certain that in great +fundamental matters his mind never seriously doubted, and thus escaped +the influence of friends less sensible,—of Matthews in his early youth, +and of Shelley at a later period.<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> That touching Prayer to the +Divinity, written in boyhood, and which is so full of hope and faith in +the soul's immortality, and in the existence of a personal God, he might +have signed again when he came to act instead of writing, as also on his +death-bed.<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></p> + +<p>Between the commencement of his career at eighteen and its close at the +age of thirty-six, it is easy to see, by his language, correspondence, +and works, that his mind had passed successively through different +phases before arriving at the last result. The religious idea is more or +less clear. Nevertheless, one perceives a golden ray ever present, +connecting the different periods of his life, keeping up heat and light +in his soul, and giving unity to his whole career. Hope, desire, and I +may almost say, a sort of latent faith, always influenced him until they +merged into the conviction whose light never more abandoned him.</p> + +<p>At fifteen years of age, while at Harrow, he fought with Lord Calthorpe +for calling him an <i>atheist</i>; at eighteen, he wrote his beautiful +profession of faith in the Prayer to the Divinity, and in the touching +"Adieu," which he wrote when he thought he would soon die. At nineteen, +giving the list in his memoranda of books already read (a list hardly +credible), he says: "With regard to books on religion, I have read +Blair, Porteous, Tillotson, Hooker,—all very tiresome. I detest books +about religion, but I adore and love my God, apart from the blasphemous +notions of sectarians, and without believing in their absurd and +damnable heresies, mysteries, etc."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351] </a></span> At twenty-one, when he had passed +through the double influence exercised by Pagan classical literature and +German philosophies, and was in a transition state, he wrote "Childe +Harold;" but the skeptical tendencies to be found in one stanza appear +like a bravado, the result of spleen, a feeling that made him suffer, +and which he speedily threw aside. For he wrote, at the same time, the +stanza upon the death of a friend, whom he <i>hopes to see again in the +land of souls</i>, and afterward, the elegies to Thyrza, which are full of +<i>faith in immortality</i>. At thirty, writing some philosophical +reflections in his memorandum-book, he says: "One can not doubt the +immortality of the soul."</p> + +<p>And, elsewhere, he also says that Christianity appears to him +essentially founded on the immateriality of the soul, and that, for this +reason, the Christian materialism of Priestley had always struck him as +being a deadly sort of doctrine. "Believe, if you please," added he, "in +the material resurrection of the body, but not without a soul: it would +be cruel indeed, if, after having had a soul in this world (and our +mind, by whatever name you call it, is really a soul), we were to be +separated from it in the other, even for material immortality! I confess +my partiality for mind."</p> + +<p>Alluding to the systems of philosophy that do not admit creation +according to Genesis, he says, that "even if we could get rid of Adam +and Eve, of the apple and the serpent, we should not know what to put in +their place; that the difficulty would not be overcome; that things must +have had a beginning, it matters not when and how; that creation must +have had an origin and a Creator. For creation is much more natural and +easy to imagine than a concurrence of atoms; that all things may be +traced to their sources even though they end by emptying themselves into +an ocean."</p> + +<p>We have seen what he said to Parry upon religion<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> and its ministers, +upon God Almighty and the hope of enjoying eternal life, only a few +weeks before his glorious death.</p> + +<p>And when the hand of death was already upon him, a few moments before +his agony, did he not say that eternity and space were already before +his eyes, but that on this point, thanks to God, <i>he was happy and +tranquil?</i> that the thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352] </a></span> of living <i>eternally</i>, of living another +life, was a great consolation to him? that Christianity was the purest +and most liberal of all religions (although a little spoiled by the +ministers of Christ, often the worst enemies of its liberal and +charitable doctrines); but that, as to the questions depending on these +doctrines, and which God alone, all powerful, can determine, in Him +alone did he wish to rest?</p> + +<p>But if Lord Byron was constant to a certain order of ideas, was he +equally constant in his affections? Moore again shall answer:—</p> + +<p>"The same distrust in his own steadiness, thus keeping alive in him a +conscientious self-watchfulness, concurred not a little, I have no +doubt, with the innate, kindness of his nature, to preserve so constant +and unbroken the greater number of his attachments through life—some of +them, as in the instance of his mother, owing evidently more to a sense +of duty than of real affection, the consistency with which, so +creditably to the strength of his character, they were maintained."</p> + +<p>But, putting aside family affections, where constancy may appear a duty +and a necessity, let us see what Lord Byron was in affections of his own +choice,—such as friendship and love, where inconstancy is a sin that +the world easily forgives.</p> + +<p>We have seen what the friendship of Lord Byron meant. Death destroyed +several of the young existences with which his heart was bound up, and +his first sorrows sprang from these misfortunes. But <i>never</i> by his +will, caprice, or fault, did he lose a single friend! Even the wrongs +they inflicted, while they weighed upon his mind, altered his opinions +sometimes, dispelled some sweet illusions and grieved his heart, yet +could not succeed in changing it. He contented himself with judging the +individual in such cases, sometimes with philosophical indulgence which +he was only too much accustomed to hide under the veil of pleasantry, +and sometimes in showing openly how much his heart was wounded.<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a></p> + +<p>This constancy of heart that he showed in friendship, was it equally his +in matters of love? By his energy of soul, unable ever to forget any +thing, Lord Byron possessed the first <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353] </a></span>condition toward constancy in +love. Contrary to those unstable persons who say that they cease to +love, for the simple reason that they have already loved too much, it +might rather be said of Lord Byron that he still loved on only because +he had loved. In all his poems, he has idealized fidelity and constancy +in love. All the heroes of his poems are faithful and constant, from +Conrad, Lara, Selim, all those of the Oriental poems of his youth, up to +those of his latter life, to his Biblical mysteries. Even the angels, +the seraphim, in that beautiful poem, written shortly before his death, +"Heaven and Earth," prefer suffering to inconstancy,—to forfeit heaven +rather than return there without their beloved. In vain the archangel +Raphael presses the two amorous seraphim to come back to the celestial +sphere, to abandon the two sisters, and menaces them. Samiasa replies:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">"It may not be:</span><br /> +We have chosen, and will endure."<br /> +</div> + +<p>The poet gives it to be understood that they will be punished; which +forms the moral of the piece. Don Juan himself refuses the love of a +beautiful sultana, from fidelity to the remembrance of his Haidée; and +when, afterward, he does yield, he seems to bear with, rather than to +have sought success. One feels that this idealization of fidelity and +constancy really has its source in Lord Byron's heart, and not in his +imagination. Still, however, the chief and undeniable proof must be +drawn from his own life.</p> + +<p>The first condition for judging any one impartially with regard to +inconstancy in love, is not only to know the facts and real +circumstances connected with an intimacy, but especially to know the +nature of the sentiment to which the name of love has been applied. We +are aware that, at fifteen years of age, Lord Byron's heart was already +under the influence of a young girl of eighteen.<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> The mere +disproportion of age prevents such an affection from offering any +grounds on which to examine his capability of being constant. It is well +known how much suffering this early passion caused him. The object of +it, after denying him no token of reciprocal love that was innocent, +giving him her picture, agreeing to meetings, receiving all the +spontaneous, innocent, confiding tenderness of his young and ardent +heart, left him in the lurch one fine day, on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354] </a></span> account of his youth, in +order to marry a fashionable, vulgar man. And thus did she destroy the +charm which governed his heart. Precocious reflection, with its +accompaniment of knowledge, agitating, confusing, throwing young souls +on the road to error, succeeded to his enchantment. He then began (at +sixteen) to talk of vanished illusions; and, for want of something +better, allowed himself to be carried away, and to lead the ordinary +university life. He evidently only did what others did; but he was made +of different materials; and while they thought this dissipation very +natural, and, tranquil in their inferiority, believed themselves +innocent, he alone disapproved of his own conduct and blamed it. The +better to escape all this, he went in search of forgetfulness amid the +fresh breezes of ocean, across the Pyrenees, among the ruins of ancient +civilization. Yet, after two years' travelling, on his return to +England, his soul all love, his heart burning with an infinite ardor, +through that intoxication of success which weakens, through that +eagerness for emotion caused by his vivacity of mind, and even by a sort +of psychological curiosity, Lord Byron did fall into new attachments. +And these attachments, not being of a nature that could stand the trial +of reflection, caused him to give up known for unknown objects. But his +soul was ever agitated, in commotion, and, even when he changed, it was +through necessity rather than caprice. In order to escape once more from +himself, from the allurements of the senses, from the effects of the +enthusiasm which his personal beauty and his genius excited among women, +he resolved to take refuge in an indissoluble tie, in a tie formed by +duty, not love. Perhaps he might have found strength for perseverance in +the beauty of the sacrifice. His soul was quite capable of it. But +destiny pursued him in his choice, and rendered it impossible. To his +misfortune, he married Miss Milbank.<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> Again he drifted away from the +right path, but, this time, with the resolution of keeping his heart +independent, his soul free and unfettered by any indissoluble tie.<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> +But in coming to this determination at the age of twenty-eight, he +had not consulted his heart, ever athirst for infinitude. Vainly +he sought to lull it, to keep it earthward, to laugh at his own +aspirations—useless labor! One day it broke loose. Nature is like +water;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355] </a></span> sooner or later it must find its equilibrium. From that day +forth Psyche's lamp had no more light; reflection had no more power; and +the love which had taken possession of his soul left him not again, but +accompanied him to his last hour, through the modifications inevitable +in earthly affections. This constancy maintained thenceforth without a +struggle, he understood at once; and felt that the unchanging sentiment +belonged equally to his will and to his destiny. "<i>Cœlum, non animam +mutant qui trans mare currunt</i>," wrote he one day at Ravenna, on the +opening page of "Jacopo Ortis," Foscolo's work, that had just fallen +into his hands; for he knew that no one could read this avowal of his +heart where he had traced it. After having remarked the strange +coincidence by which this volume was brought a second time before him, +just when he was, as once before, in extreme agitation, he continued +thus:—</p> + +<p>"Most men bewail not having attained the object of their desires. I had +oftener to deplore the obtaining mine, for I can not love moderately, +nor quiet my heart with mere fruition. The letters of this Italian +Werther are very interesting; at least I think so, but my present +feelings hardly render me a competent judge."</p> + +<p>Another time, a volume of "Corinne," translated into Italian, fell under +his notice at Ravenna. In the same language, which no one then about him +could read, he confided to this book the secret of his heart, and, after +having poured out its fullness in words of noble melting tenderness, +concluded thus:—"Think of me when Alps and sea shall separate us; <i>but +that will never come to pass, unless you so will it</i>."</p> + +<p>It was not willed, and therefore the separation did not take place. But, +alas! the day arrived when he was so entangled in a multiplicity of +complications, and honor spoke so loudly, that both sides were forced to +will it.</p> + +<p>Whoever should consider this departure the result of inconstancy, is +incapable to form an estimate of his great soul. His affection, that had +lasted for years, admitted no longer of any uneasiness, for it was +brought into complete harmony with that of her he loved. Naturally his +heart underwent the transformation produced by time. His affection was +gradually acquiring the sweetness of unchanging friendship,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356] </a></span> without +losing the charm appertaining to ardor of passion. The sacrifice +entailed by this departure was in proportion to these sentiments. +"Often," says M——, "during the passage we saw his eyes filled with +tears." The sadness described by Mr. Barry of his last visit to Albano +has been seen.<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> These tears and this sadness betray the extent of his +sublime sacrifice! And then, when once arrived in Greece, although +determined to brave all the storms gathering above his head, he wrote +unceasingly to Madame G——, with that ease and simplicity which not +only forbade any exaggeration of sentiment, but even made him restrain +its expression; which was also rendered imperative by the circumstances +then surrounding her.</p> + +<p>"I shall fulfill the object of my mission from the committee, and then +... return to Italy.... Pray be as cheerful and tranquil as you can, and +be assured that there is nothing here that can excite any thing but a +wish to be with you again, though we are very kindly treated by the +English here of all descriptions."</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">"September 11.</p> + +<p>"You may be sure that the moment I can join you again will be as +welcome to me as at any period of our acquaintance. There is +nothing very attractive here to occupy my attention; but both honor +and inclination demand that I should serve the Greek cause. I wish +that this cause, as well as the affairs of Spain, were favorably +settled, that I might return to Italy and relate all my adventures +to you."</p> + +<p>Thus much for his constancy when he truly loved. It would be worth +inquiry how many men and how many writers have carried their ideal of +constancy into their own life to a higher degree than Lord Byron? My +opinion is that if, the same circumstances given, the number went a +little beyond one, we might consider the result very satisfactory.</p> + +<p>After having seen that Lord Byron was unchangeable in great principles +and ideas, as soon as his mind was convinced, and that he was constant +to all the true sentiments of his heart, it still remains to be shown +whether he was equally so in his tastes and habits.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357] </a></span></p> + +<p>It may be said of most men that they have no character, because they +often vary in taste, and without even perceiving it. That could not be +asserted of Lord Byron, although sometimes, according to his +self-accusing custom, he declared himself to be inconstant.</p> + +<p>The truth is that he was, on the contrary, remarkably steadfast in his +tastes. The nature of his preferences, and the conclusions to be drawn +from them, will form the subject of another chapter. We shall only speak +of them here as relating to constancy.</p> + +<p>"We shall often have occasion," says Moore, "to remark the fidelity to +early habits and tastes which distinguished Lord Byron." Moore then +observes the extraordinary constancy Lord Byron showed in clinging to +all the impressions of youth; and he adduces as a proof the care with +which he preserved the notes and letters written by his favorite +comrades at school, even when they were younger than himself. These +letters he enriched with dates and notes, after years of long interval, +while very few of his childish effusions have been kept by the opposite +parties. Moore also notes several other features of this constancy, +which he continued to practice throughout life. For instance, his +punctuality in answering letters immediately, despite his distaste for +epistolary effusions; and his love for simple music, such as that of the +ballads that used to attract him at sixteen to Miss Pigott's saloon. It +was partly this same taste that made him enjoy so much, at twenty-six, +the evenings he passed at his friend Kinnaird's house (some months +before his marriage, the last of his London life), when Moore would sing +his favorite songs, bringing tears to Byron's eyes. And it was this same +taste that subsequently drew him to the piano at which Madame G—— sat, +at Ravenna, Pisa, Genoa; and which, when she played or sung Mozart's and +Rossini's favorite motets, made him say that he no longer loved any +other music but hers.</p> + +<p>What he had once loved never tired him. Memory was to him like an +enchanter's wand, throwing some charm into objects which in themselves +possessed none. He loved the land where he had loved, however naturally +unattractive it might be: witness Ravenna, and Italy in general.</p> + +<p>"Possession of what I truly love," said he, in the very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358] </a></span> rare moments +when he did himself justice "does not cloy me." He loved the mountains +of Greece, because they recalled those of Scotland; he would have loved +other mountains, because they recalled those of Greece.</p> + +<p>A few months before his death, he said in his charming poem "The +Island,"—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Long have I roam'd through lands which are not mine,<br /> +Adored the Alp, and loved the Apennine,<br /> +Revered Parnassus, and beheld the steep<br /> +Jove's Ida and Olympus crown the deep:<br /> +But 'twas not all long ages' lore, nor all<br /> +<i>Their</i> nature held me in their thrilling thrall;<br /> +The infant rapture still survived the boy,<br /> +And Loch-na-gar with Ida look'd o'er Troy,<br /> +Mix'd Celtic memories with the Phrygian mount,<br /> +And Highland linns with Castalie's clear fount.<br /> +Forgive me, Homer's universal shade!<br /> +Forgive me, Phœbus! that my fancy stray'd;<br /> +The north and nature taught me to adore<br /> +Your scenes sublime, from those beloved before."<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a><br /> +</div> + +<p>He would love a place of abode because he had loved when in it. The same +with regard to a dwelling, a walk, a melody, a perfume, a form, and even +a dish; he who cared so little for any sort of food. His childish +impressions, his readings at that age, had a great deal to do with his +choice of poetic subjects afterward; and we find them again reproduced +even in his last dramatic work. "Werner," written in such a fine moral +sense, is the result of the "Canterbury Tale" read in childhood. Never +was man more constant in his habits and tastes than he; and, indeed, it +required that indefinable charm of soul he possessed, and which pervaded +his whole being, to prevent monotony from perverting this quality into a +fault.</p> + +<p>Why, then, have his biographers talked so much of his mobility, if it +were not to make Lord Byron pass for a creature swayed by every fresh +impulse, and incapable of steady feeling? I have given the first reason +elsewhere.<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> But I will add another, namely, that they have +transferred the qualities of the <i>poet to the man</i> in an erroneous +manner; that to the versatility of his genius (one of his great gifts, +and which ever belong to him) they have added mobility of character such +as often, too often, perhaps, influenced his conversation, and tinctured +his external fictitious nature. But they have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359] </a></span> done so without examining +his actions, without reflecting that this mobility vanished as it was +written, or in the light play of his witty conversation, or the trivial +acts of his life. Otherwise they would have been forced to confess, that +it never had any influence on his conduct in matters of moment, that he +was persevering and firm to an extremely rare degree in all things +<i>essential</i> and which constitute <i>man in his moral and social capacity</i>.</p> + +<p>We may then sum up by saying that Lord Byron generally established on an +impregnable rock, guarded by unbending principles, those great virtues +to which principles are essential; but that, after making these +treasures secure—for treasures they are to the man of honor and +worth—once having placed them beyond the reach of sensibility and +sentiment, he may sometimes have allowed the <i>lesser virtues</i> (within +ordinary bonds) such indulgence as flowed from his kindly nature, and +such as his youth rendered natural to a feeling heart and ardent +imagination. Like all men, he was only truly firm under serious +circumstances, when he wished to show energy in fulfilling a duty. Thus +Lord Byron allowed his pen to jest, to mark the follies of men: +sometimes attacking them boldly in front, sometimes aiming light arrows +aslant, ridiculing, chastising, as humor or fancy prompted; and he gave +himself the same liberty of language in private conversation, according +to the character of those with whom he conversed. On all these occasions +his genius undoubtedly gave itself up to versatility. But let us not +forget that all that which changes and becomes effaced in hearts of +inconstant mood, and which ought not to change in men of honor and +worth, never did vary in him. Let us acknowledge, in short, that, if +mobility belonged to the <i>sensitive</i> parts of his nature, constancy no +less characterized his <i>moral and intellectual</i> being.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> See chapter on "Mobility."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> Stanhope, Parry, 235.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> See Sainte-Beuve, vol. i. p. 286.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> See chapter on "Religion."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> See this prayer in chapter on "Religion."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> See chapter on "Religion."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> See octaves 48, 49 and 50, canto xiv. "Don Juan;" and +several in "Childe Harold," cantos iii. and iv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> See chapter on "Generosity."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> See chapter on "Marriage."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> See "Life at Venice, at Milan."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> See chapter on "Strength of Soul."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> "The Island," canto ii. stanza 12.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> See chapter on "Mobility."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>THE COURAGE AND FORTITUDE OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>All the moral qualities that flow from energy—courage, intrepidity, +fortitude; in a word, self-control—shone with too much lustre in Lord +Byron's soul for us to pass them over in silence, or even to call only +superficial attention to them.</p> + +<p>But, it may be said, Why speak of his courage? No one ever called it in +question. Besides, is courage a virtue? It is hardly a quality; in +reality it is but a duty. Yes, undoubtedly, that is true, but there are +different kinds of courage, and Lord Byron's was of such a peculiar +nature, and showed itself under such uncommon circumstances as to +justify observation, for it evinces a quality necessary to be noticed by +all who seek to portray his great soul with the wish of arriving at a +close resemblance.</p> + +<p>"Whatever virtue may be allowed to belong to personal courage, it is +most assuredly those who are endowed by nature with the liveliest +imaginations, and who have, therefore, most vividly and simultaneously +before their eyes all the remote and possible consequences of danger, +that are most deserving of whatever praise attends the exercise of that +virtue."</p> + +<p>Certainly Lord Byron made part of the category, so that Moore adds:—</p> + +<p>"The courage of Lord Byron, as all his companions in peril testify, was +of that noblest kind which rises with the greatness of the occasion, and +becomes the more self-collected and resisting the more imminent the +danger."</p> + +<p>Thus, far from its being the natural impetuosity that causes rash +natures to rush into danger, Lord Byron's courage was quite as much the +result of reflection as of impulse. <i>His was courage of the noblest +kind</i>, a quality mixed up with other fine moral faculties, shining with +light of its own, yet all combining to lend mutual lustre. This is, +indeed, what ought <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361] </a></span>to be called <i>fortitude</i> and <i>self-control</i>, and +this is what we remark in Lord Byron. But, in order not to sin against +the scientific classification used by moralists, and which requires +subdivisions, we will isolate it for a moment, and examine it under the +name of courage, presence of mind, and coolness.</p> + +<p>Unaffected in his bravery, as in all things else, Lord Byron did not +seek dangers, but when they presented themselves to him he met them with +lofty intrepidity.</p> + +<p>To give some examples—and the difficulty is to choose—let us consider +him under different circumstances that occurred during his first travels +in the East.</p> + +<p>While at Malta he was on the point of fighting a duel, through some +misunderstanding with an officer on General Oakes's staff. The meeting +had been fixed for an early hour, but Lord Byron slept so soundly that +his companion was obliged to awaken him. On arriving at the spot, which +was near the shore, his adversary was not yet there; and Lord Byron, +although his luggage had already been taken on board the brig that was +to convey him to Albania, wished to give him the chance at least of +another hour. During all this long interval he amused himself very +quietly walking about the beach perfectly unconcerned.</p> + +<p>At last an officer, sent by his antagonist, arrived on the ground, +bringing not only an explanation of how the delay had arisen, but +likewise all the excuses and satisfaction Lord Byron could desire for +the supposed offense. Thus the duel did not take place.</p> + +<p>The gentleman who was to be his second could not sufficiently praise the +coolness and firm courage shown by Lord Byron throughout this affair.</p> + +<p>Some time later Lord Byron was on the mountains of Epirus with his +friend and fellow-traveller, Mr. Hobhouse (now Lord Broughton). These +mountains being then infested with banditti, they were accompanied by a +numerous escort, and even by one of the secretaries, as well as several +retainers belonging to the famous Ali Pasha of Joannina, whom they had +just been visiting. One evening, seeing a storm impending, Mr. Hobhouse +hastened on in front with part of their suite, in order sooner to reach +a neighboring hamlet, and get shelter prepared. Lord Byron followed with +the remainder of the escort. Before he could arrive, however, the storm +burst,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362] </a></span> and soon became terrific. Mr. Hobhouse, who had long been safe +under cover in the village, could see nothing of his friend.</p> + +<p>"It was seven in the evening," says Mr. Hobhouse, in his account of it, +"and the fury of the storm had become quite alarming. Never before or +since have I witnessed one so terrible. The roof of the hovel in which +we had taken shelter trembled beneath violent gusts of rain and wind, +and the thunder kept roaring without intermission, for the echo from one +mountain crest had not ceased ere another frightful crash broke above +our heads. The plain, and distant hills, visible through the chinks of +the hut, seemed on fire. In short, the tempest was terrific; quite +worthy of the Jupiter of ancient Greece. The peasants, no less religious +than their ancestors, confessed their fears; the women were crying +around, and the men, at every new flash of lightning, invoked the name +of God, making the sign of the cross."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile hours passed, midnight drew near, the storm was far from +abating, and Lord Byron had not appeared. Mr. Hobhouse, in great alarm, +ordered fires to be lighted on the heights, and guns to be let off in +all directions. At length, toward one in the morning, a man, all pale +and panic-stricken, soaked through to the skin, suddenly entered the +cabin, making loud cries, exclamations, and gestures of despair. He +belonged to the escort, and speedily related the danger to which they +had been exposed, and in which Lord Byron and his followers still were, +and urging the necessity of sending off at once horses, guides, and men +with torches, to extricate them from it.</p> + +<p>It appears that at the commencement of the storm, when only three miles +from the village, Lord Byron, through the fault of his escort, lost the +right path. After wandering about as chance directed, in complete +ignorance of their whereabouts, and on the brink of precipices, they had +stopped at last near a Turkish cemetery and close to a torrent, which +they had been enabled to distinguish through the flashes of lightning. +Lord Byron was exposed to <i>all the fury of the storm for nine +consecutive hours</i>; his guides, instead of lending him any assistance, +only increased the general confusion, running about on all sides, +because they had been menaced with death by the dragoman George, who, in +a paroxysm of rage and fear, had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363] </a></span> fired off his pistols without warning +any body, and Lord Byron's English servants, fancying they were attacked +by robbers, set up loud cries.</p> + +<p>It was three in the morning before the party could reach the shelter +where their friends awaited them. During these nine consecutive hours of +danger, Lord Byron never once lost his self-possession or serenity, or +even that pleasant vein of humor which made him always see the +ridiculous side of things.</p> + +<p>About the same period Lord Byron and his companion, after having visited +Eleusis, were obliged, by stress of weather, to stop some days at +Keratea. Having heard of a wonderful cavern situated on Mount Parné, +they determined to visit it. On arriving at the entrance they lighted +torches of resinous wood, and, preceded by a guide, penetrated through a +small aperture, dragging themselves along the ground until they reached +a sort of subterranean hall, ornamented with arcades and high cupolas of +crystal, supported by columns of shining marcasite; the hall itself +opened out into large horizontal chambers, or else conducted to dark, +deep yawning abysses toward the centre of the mountain. After having +strayed from one grotto to another, the travellers arrived near a +fountain of crystal water. There they stopped, till, seeing their +torches wane low, they thought of retracing their steps. But, after +walking for some minutes in the labyrinth, they again found themselves +beside the mysterious fountain. Then they grew alarmed, for their guide +acknowledged with <i>terror that he had forgotten the itinerary of the +cavern, and no longer knew where to find the outlet</i>.</p> + +<p>While they were wandering thus from one grotto to another, in a sort of +despair, and occasionally dragging themselves along to get through +narrow openings, their last torch was consumed. They remained a long +time in total darkness, not knowing what to do, when, as if by miracle, +a feeble ray of light made itself visible, and, directing their steps +toward it, they ended by reaching the mouth of the cavern. Certainly, it +would be difficult to meet with a more alarming situation. Mr. Hobhouse, +while confessing that for some moments it had been impossible to look +forward to any thing else but the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364] </a></span>chance of a horrible death, declared +that, not only Lord Byron's presence of mind and coolness were admirable +in the teeth of such a prospect, but also that his playful humor never +forsook him, and helped to keep up their spirits during minutes that +must have seemed years to all of them.</p> + +<p>It was during this same journey that, finding the mountains which +separated them from the Morea were infested with banditti, they embarked +on board a vessel of war, called the "Turk." A tempest broke out, and +its violence, joined to the ignorance betrayed by the captain and +sailors, put the vessel in great danger. Shipwreck seemed inevitable, +and close at hand. Nothing was heard on board but cries, lamentations, +and prayers. Lord Byron alone remained calm, doing every thing in his +power to console and encourage the rest; and then at length, when he saw +that his efforts were useless, he wrapped himself up in his Albanian +cloak, and lay down on the deck, <i>going tranquilly to sleep until fate +should decide his destiny</i>.</p> + +<p>After having given his mother a simple description of this tempest, he +adds:—"I have learned to philosophize during my travels, and, if I had +not, what use is there in complaining?"</p> + +<p>And Moore says:—</p> + +<p>"I have heard the poet's fellow-traveller describe this remarkable +instance of his coolness and courage even still more strikingly than it +is here stated by himself. Finding that he was unable to be of any +service in the exertions which their very serious danger called for, +after a laugh or two at the panic of his valet, he not only wrapped +himself up and lay down, in the manner here mentioned, but, when their +difficulties were surmounted, was found fast asleep."</p> + +<p>These adventures happened to him when he was only twenty-one years of +age, and within the course of a few weeks. But all his life he gave the +same proofs of courage when circumstances called for them.</p> + +<p>And since we have chosen these examples from his first journey into +Greece, at the beginning of his career, let us select some others from +the last, which took place near its close.</p> + +<p>Mr. H. Brown having been asked by Lord Harrington what his impressions +were of Lord Byron, replied, "Lord Byron was extremely calm in presence +of danger. Here are two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365] </a></span> instances that I witnessed myself:—A Greek, +named Costantino Zalichi, to whom his lordship had given his passage, +once took up one of Manton's pistols, belonging to Lord Byron. It went +off by accident, and the ball passed quite close to Lord Byron's temple. +Without the least emotion Lord Byron began explaining to the Greek how +such accidents could be avoided.</p> + +<p>"On another occasion, near the Roman coast, we observed a +suspicious-looking little vessel, armed, and apparently full of people. +It was toward the end of the last war with Spain, during which many acts +of piracy had been committed in the Mediterranean. And our captain was +much alarmed. We were followed all day by this vessel, and toward +evening, it seemed so ready for action that we no longer doubted being +attacked. However a breeze arose, and darkness came on soon after, +whereupon we lost sight of it. Lord Byron, while the danger lasted, +remained perfectly calm, giving his orders with the greatest tranquility +and reflection."<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a></p> + +<p>And Lord Harrington, then Colonel Stanhope, says himself, in his Essay +on Lord Byron:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron was the <i>beau idéal</i> of chivalry. It might have lowered him +in the esteem of wise men, if he had not given such extraordinary proofs +of the noblest courage.</p> + +<p>"Even at moments of the greatest danger, Lord Byron <i>contemplated death +with philosophical calm</i>. For instance, at the moment of returning from +the alarming attack which had surprised him in my room (at Missolonghi), +he immediately asked, with the most perfect self-possession, whether his +life were in danger, as, in that case, he required the doctor to tell +him so, <i>for he was not afraid of death</i>.</p> + +<p>"Shortly after that frightful convulsion, when, weakened by loss of +blood, he was lying on his bed of suffering, with his nervous system +completely shaken, a band of mutinous Suliotes, in their splendid dirty +costumes, burst suddenly into his room, brandishing their weapons, and +loudly demanding their savage rights. Lord Byron, as if electrified by +the unexpected act, appeared to have recovered his health, and, the more +the Suliotes cried out and threatened, the more <i>his cool courage +triumphed</i>. <i>The scene was really sublime.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366] </a></span></p> + +<p>And Count Gamba, in his interesting narrative of "Lord Byron's Last +Journey into Greece," adds:—</p> + +<p>"It is impossible to do justice to the coolness and magnanimity Lord +Byron showed on all great occasions. Under ordinary circumstances he was +irritable, but the sight of danger calmed him instantly, restoring the +free exercise of all the faculties of his noble nature. A man <i>more +indomitable, or firmer in the hour of danger than Lord Byron was, never +existed</i>."<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></p> + +<p>But enough of these proofs, which, perhaps, say nothing new to the +reader. Nevertheless, as they may call up again the pleasure ever +afforded by the spectacle of great moral beauty, let us further add—the +better to set forth the nature of Lord Byron's wonderful intrepidity in +face of danger—that his energetic soul loved to contemplate those +sublime things in Nature that are usually endured with terror. Tempests, +the thunder's roll, the lightning's flash—any mysterious display of +Nature's forces, so that its violence occasioned neither misfortune nor +suffering to sensitive beings—aroused in him the keenest sense of +enjoyment, which in turn ministered to his genius, incapable of finding +complete satisfaction in the beautiful, and ever yearning passionately +after the sublime.</p> + +<p>As to his fortitude, that self-control which makes one bear affliction +with external serenity, Lord Byron possessed it in as high a degree as +he did firmness with regard to material obstacles and dangers.</p> + +<p>Endowed with exquisite sensibility, the great poet assuredly went +through cruel trials during his stormy career; but instead of +ostentatiously exhibiting his sorrows, Lord Byron on many occasions +rather exaggerated the delicacy that led him to veil them under an +appearance of stoicism. Only very rarely did his poetry echo back the +sufferings endured within.</p> + +<p>Once, nevertheless, he wished, and rightly, to perpetuate in his verses +the memory of the indignities heaped upon him by a guilty world. He +wished that the great struggle he had been obliged to sustain against +his destiny should not be forgotten; he wished to show how much his +heart had been torn, his hopes sapped, his name blighted by the deepest +injuries, the meanest perfidy. He had seen, he said, of what beings<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367] </a></span> +with a human semblance were capable, from the frightful roar of foaming +calumny to the low whisper of vile reptiles, adroitly distilling poison; +double-visaged Januses, who supply the place of words by the language of +the eyes, who lie without saying a syllable, and, by dint of a shrug or +an affected sigh, impose on fools their unspoken calumnies. Yes, he had +to undergo all that, and for once he wished it to be known.</p> + +<p>He owed it to himself to make this complaint; his total silence would +have been wrong; it was necessary once for all to defend his <i>character</i> +and reputation, and when he ran the risk of losing the esteem of the +world his sensibility could not show itself in too lively a manner.</p> + +<p>But if he thus raised his voice to immortalize these indignities, it was +not because he recoiled from suffering.</p> + +<p>"Let him come forward," exclaimed he, "whoever has seen me bow the head, +or has remarked my courage wane with suffering."</p> + +<p>Already, at the time of the unexampled persecution raised against him in +London, when the separation from his wife took place, he wrote to +Murray:—</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">"February 20th, 1816.</p> + +<p>"You need not be in any apprehension or grief on my account. Were I +to be beaten down by the world and its inheritors, I should have +succumbed to many things years ago. You must not mistake my not +bullying for dejection; nor imagine that because I feel, I am to +faint."<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></p> + +<p>In all he wrote at this fatal period of his life, one perceives the wide +gaping wound, which is however endured with the strength of a Titan, who +at twenty-nine is to become quite a philosopher, good, gentle, almost +resigned.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"The camel labors with the heaviest load,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the wolf dies in silence,—not bestow'd</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In vain should such example be; if they,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Things of ignoble or of savage mood,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay</span><br /> +May temper it to bear,—it is but for a day."<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a><br /> +</div> + +<p>Like all those who feel deeply the joys and griefs of their fellow-men, +Lord Byron had received from nature all that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368] </a></span>could render him capable +of moderating the external expression of his sensibility, when injustice +was personal to himself. Moreover, circumstances, alas! had only too +much favored the development of this noble faculty in him. For, very +early, he had received severe lessons from those terrible masters who +nurture great souls to self-control; from reverses, vanished illusions, +perils, wrongs. The storms however it was his destiny to encounter, +though violent, not only did not cause him to be shipwrecked, but even +helped to encircle his brow with the martyr's halo.</p> + +<p>But, we may be asked, whether this great control which Lord Byron +exercised over himself, with regard to obstacles, dangers, and human +injustice, existed equally with regard to his own passions. To those who +should doubt it, and who, forgetting that Lord Byron only lived the age +of passions, without taking into consideration all the circumstances +that rendered difficult to him what is easier for others, should pretend +that Lord Byron gave way to his passions oftener than he warred against +them, to such we would say: "What was he doing, then, when, at barely +twenty-two years of age, he adopted an anchorite's <i>régime</i>, so as to +render his soul more <i>independent</i> of <i>matter</i>? When he shut himself up +at home, with the self-imposed task of writing whole poems before he +came out, in order to <i>overcome his thoughts, and maintain them in a +line contrary to that which his passions demanded</i>? When, grieved, +calumniated, outraged, he <i>preferred exile rather than yield to just +resentment</i>, and in order to avoid the danger of finding himself in +situations where he <i>might not have preserved his self-control</i>?"</p> + +<p>Have they forgotten that at Venice he subjected himself to the +ungrateful task of learning languages <i>more than difficult</i>, and of +working at other <i>dry studies</i>, in order to <i>fix his thoughts on them, +and divert them from resentment and anger</i>?</p> + +<p>He writes to Murray: "I find the Armenian language, which is double +(<i>the literary and the vulgar tongue</i>), difficult, but not insuperably +so (at least I hope not). I shall continue. I have found it necessary to +chain my mind down to very severe studies, and as this is the most +difficult I can find here, it will be a <i>net for the serpent</i>."</p> + +<p>And have we not seen him overcome himself, just as he was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369] </a></span>setting out +to go where his heart called him (for, notwithstanding all his efforts, +it had ceased to be independent), and thus defer a journey he sighed +for, only to <i>exercise acts of generosity, and liberate one of his +gondoliers from the Austrian conscription</i>?</p> + +<p>If a true biography could be written of Lord Byron we should see a +constant struggle going on in this young man against his passions. And +can more be asked of men than to fight against them? Victory is the +proof and the reward of combat. If sometimes, as with every man, victory +failed him, oftener still he did achieve it; and it is certain that his +great desire always was to free himself from the tyranny of his +passions.</p> + +<p>His last triumphs were not only great—they were sublime.</p> + +<p>The sadness that overwhelmed him during the latter part of his stay at +Genoa is known. The struggles he had to maintain against his own heart +may be conceived.</p> + +<p>It is also known how, being driven back into port by a storm, he +resolved on visiting the palace of Albaro; and it may well be imagined +that the hours passed in this dwelling, then silent and deserted, must +have seemed like those that count as years of anguish in the life of +great and feeling souls, among whom visions of the future float before +the over-excited mind. It can not be doubted that he would then +willingly have given up his fatal idea of leaving Italy; indeed he +declared so to Mr. Barry, who was with him; but the sentiment of his own +dignity and of his promise given triumphed over his feelings.</p> + +<p>The night which followed this gloomy day again saw Lord Byron struggling +against stormy waves, and not only determined on pursuing his voyage, +but also on appearing calm and serene to his fellow-travellers.</p> + +<p>Could peace, however, have dwelt within his soul? To show it outwardly +must he not have struggled?</p> + +<p>"I often saw Lord Byron during his last voyage from Genoa to Greece," +says Mr. H. Browne, in a letter written to Colonel Stanhope; "I often +saw him in the midst of the greatest gayety suddenly become pensive, +<i>and his eyes fill with tears</i>, doubtless from some painful remembrance. +On these occasions he generally got up and retired to the solitude of +his cabin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370] </a></span></p> + +<p>And Colonel Stanhope, afterward Lord Harrington, who only knew Lord +Byron later at Missolonghi, also says: "I have often observed Lord Byron +in the middle of some gay animated conversation, stop, meditate, and his +eyes to fill with tears."</p> + +<p>And all that he did in that fatal Greece, was it not a perpetual triumph +over himself, his tastes, his desires, the wants of his nature and his +heart?</p> + +<p>He saw nothing in Greece, he wrote to Mme. G——, that did not make him +wish to return to Italy, and yet he remained in Greece. He would have +preferred waiting in the Ionian Islands, and yet he set out for that +fatal Missolonghi! Liberal by principle, and aristocratic by birth, +taste, and habits, he was condemned to continual intercourse with +vulgar, turbulent, barbarous men, to come into contact with things +repugnant to his nature and his tastes, and to struggle against a +thousand difficulties—a thousand torments, moral and physical; he felt, +and knew, that even life would fail him if he did not leave Missolonghi, +yet he remained. Every thing, in short, throughout this last stage of +the noble pilgrim, proclaims his empire over self. His triumph was +always beautiful, and often sublime, but, alas! he paid for it with his +life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> Parry, 206.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> Essay by Colonel Stanhope.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> "Last Journey to Greece," p. 174.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> Moore, "Letters," p. 241.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> "Childe Harold."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE MODESTY OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>Among the qualities that belong to his genius, the one which formed its +chief ornament has been too much forgotten.</p> + +<p>Modesty constituted a beautiful quality of his soul. If it has not been +formally denied him; if, even among those whom we term his biographers, +some have conceded modesty as pertaining to Lord Byron's genius, they +have done so timidly; and have at the same time indirectly denied it by +accusing him of pride.</p> + +<p>Was Lord Byron proud as a poet and as a man? We shall have occasion to +answer this question in another chapter. Here we shall only examine his +claims to modesty; and we say, without hesitation, that it was as great +in him as it has ever been in others. It shines in every line of his +poetry and his prose, at every age and in all the circumstances of his +life.</p> + +<p>"There is no real modesty" (says a great moralist of the present day) +"without diffidence of self, inspired by a deep sense of the beautiful +and by the fear of not being able to reach the perfection we conceive."</p> + +<p>As a poet, Lord Byron always undervalued or despised himself. As a man, +he did so still more; he exaggerated this quality so far as to convert +it into a fault, for he calumniated himself.</p> + +<p>We have seen how unambitious Lord Byron was as a child, and with what +facility he allowed his comrades to surpass him in intellectual +exercises, reserving for his sole ambition the wish of excelling them in +boyish games and in bodily exercises.</p> + +<p>As a youth he did nothing but censure his own conduct, which, was not at +all different from that which his comrades<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372] </a></span> thought allowable in +themselves. We have seen with what modest feelings he published his +first poems; with what docility he accepted criticisms, and yielded to +the advice of friends whom he esteemed.</p> + +<p>When cruel criticism showed him neither mercy nor justice, +notwithstanding his youthful age, he lost, it is true, serenity and +moderation of spirit, but never once put aside his modesty.</p> + +<p>Instigated by a passion for truth, he exclaims in his first satire,—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Truth! rouse some genuine bard, and guide his hand<br /> +To drive this pestilence from out the land."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Certainly, he does not spare censure in this passionate satire; but, +while inflicting it, he questions whether he should be the one to apply +the lash:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"E'en I, least thinking of a thoughtless throng,<br /> +Just skill'd to know the right and choose the wrong."<br /> +</div> + +<p>It was during the time of his first travels that Lord Byron wrote his +first <i>chef-d'œuvre</i>,<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> but so little was he aware of possessing +great faculties that, while suffering from the exactions and torments +they created within him, he only asked in return some amusement, an +occupation for long hours of solitude.</p> + +<p>Having begun "Childe Harold" as a memorial of his travelling +impressions, he communicated it, on his return to England, to the friend +who had been his companion throughout. But, instead of meeting with +indulgence and encouragement, this friend only blamed the poem, and +called it an extravagant conception.</p> + +<p>He was, nevertheless, a competent judge and a poet himself. Why, then, +such severity? Did he wish to sacrifice the poet to the man, fearing for +his friend lest the allusions therein made should lend further weapons +to the malice of his enemies? Did he dread for himself, and for those +among their comrades who, two years before, had donned the preacher's +garb at Newstead Abbey, lest the voice of public opinion should mix them +up in the pretended disorders of which the Abbey had been the theatre, +and which the poem either<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373] </a></span> exaggerated or invented? Whatsoever his +motive, this friend was not certainly then a John of Bologna for Lord +Byron; but the modesty of the poet surpassed the severity of his judge; +for, accepting the blame as if it were merited, he restored the poem to +its portfolio with such humility that when Mr. Dallas afterward heard of +it almost by chance, and, fired with enthusiasm on reading it, +pronounced this extravagant thing to be a sublime <i>chef-d'œuvre</i>, he +had the greatest difficulty in persuading Lord Byron to make it public.</p> + +<p>Gifford's criticisms were always received by Lord Byron not only with +docility and modesty but even with gratitude.</p> + +<p>He never lost an occasion of blaming himself as a poet and of +depreciating his genius. Living only for affection, more than once when +he feared that the war going on against him might warp feeling, he was +on the point of consigning all he had written to the flames; of +destroying forever every vestige of it; and only the fear of harming his +publisher made him at last withdraw the given order.</p> + +<p>He knew only how to praise his rivals, and to assist those requiring +help or encouragement.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the favor shown him by the public, it always appeared to +him that he would weary it with any new production.</p> + +<p>When about to publish the "Bride of Abydos," he said, "I know what I +risk, and with good reason,—losing the small reputation I have gained +by putting the public to this new test; but really I have ceased to +attach any importance to that. I write and publish solely for the sake +of occupation, to draw my thoughts away from reality, and take refuge in +imagination, however dreadful."</p> + +<p>In 1814, when Murray (who was thinking of establishing a periodical for +bringing out the works of living authors) consulted Lord Byron on the +subject, he, whose splendid fame had already thrown all his +contemporaries into the shade, answered simply, that supported by such +poets as Scott, Wordsworth, Southey, and many others, the undertaking +would of course succeed; and that for his part, he would unite with +Hobhouse and Moore so as to furnish occasionally—a failure! and at the +same time he made use of the opportunity to praise Campbell and +Canning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374] </a></span></p> + +<p>His memorandum-book is one perpetual record of his humility, even at a +time when the public, of all classes and sexes, had made him their idol.</p> + +<p>After having expressed in his memoranda for 1813 his sublime aspirations +after glory—that is to say, the happiness he should experience in being +<i>not a ruler, but a guide and benefactor of humanity, a Washington, a +Franklin, a Penn</i>; "but no," added he; "no, I shall never be any thing: +or rather, I shall always be nothing. The most I can hope is that some +one may say of me, '<i>He might</i>, <i>perhaps</i>, if he would.'"</p> + +<p>The low estimation in which he held his poetical genius, to which he +preferred action, amounted almost to a fault; for he forgot that grand +and beautiful truths, couched in burning words and lighted up by genius, +are also actions. He really seemed to have difficulty in forgiving +himself for writing at all. Even at the outset of his literary career he +was indignant with his publisher for having taken steps with Gifford +which looked like asking for praise.</p> + +<p>"It is bad enough to be a scribbler," said he, "without having recourse +to such subterfuges for extorting praise or warding off criticism."</p> + +<p>"I have never contemplated the prospect," wrote he, in 1819, "of +occupying a permanent place in the literature of my country. Those who +know me best are aware of that; and they also know that I have been +considerably astonished at even the transient success of my works, never +having flattered any one person or party, and having expressed opinions +which are not those of readers in general. If I could have guessed the +high degree of attention that has been awarded to them, I should +certainly have made all possible efforts to merit it. But I have lived +abroad, in distant countries, or else in the midst of worldly +dissipation in England: circumstances by no means favorable to study and +reflection. So that almost all I have written is but passion; for in me +(if it is not Irishism to say so) indifference itself was a <i>sort of +passion</i>, the result of experience and not the philosophy of nature."</p> + +<p>The same contempt, manifested in a thousand ways throughout his life, +was again expressed by Lord Byron, a few days before his death, to Lord +Harrington, on being told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375] </a></span> by the latter that, notwithstanding the war +he had waged against English prejudices and national susceptibility, he +had nevertheless been the pride and even the idol of his country.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed he, "it would be a stupid race that should adore such an +idol. It is true, they laid aside their superstition, as to my divinity, +after 'Cain.'"</p> + +<p>We find in his memoranda, with regard to a comparison made between +himself and Napoleon, these significant words: "I, an <i>insect</i>, compared +to that creature!"<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a></p> + +<p>Sometimes he ascribes his poetical success to accidental causes, or else +to some merit not personal to himself but transmitted by inheritance; +that is, to his rank.</p> + +<p>The generality of authors, especially poets, love to read their +productions over and over again, just as a fine woman likes to admire +herself in the glass. He, on the contrary, avoided this reflection of +his genius, which seemed to displease him.</p> + +<p>"Here are two wretched proof-sheets from the printer. I have looked over +one; but, on my soul, I can not read that 'Giaour' again—at least not +now and at this hour (midnight); yet there is no moonlight."</p> + +<p>He never read his compositions to any one. On inviting Moore to Newstead +Abbey, soon after having made his acquaintance, he said, "I can promise +you Balnea Vina, and, if you like shooting, a manor of four thousand +acres, fire, books, full liberty. H——, I fear, will pester you with +verses, but, for my part, I can conclude with Martial, '<i>nil recitabo +tibi</i>;' and certainly this last promise ought not to be the least +tempting for you."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, this was a great moment for a young author, as "Childe +Harold" was then going through the press. He never would speak of his +works; and when any translation of them was mentioned to him, they were +sure to cause annoyance to him. Several times in Italy he paid large +sums to prevent his works from being translated, at the same time not to +injure the translator; but while refusing these homages for himself he +desired them for others, and with that view praised and assisted them. +We have already seen all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376] </a></span> he did to magnify Moore, as well as others, +both friends and rivals. The Gospel says, "Do unto others as ye would +they should do unto you;" but for him the precept should rather have +been reversed thus, "Do for yourself what you would do for others."</p> + +<p>In the midst of his matrimonial sufferings, at the most cruel moments of +his existence, he still found time to write and warmly recommend to his +publisher works written by Hunt and Coleridge, who afterward rewarded +all his kindness with the most dire ingratitude. And after praising them +greatly, he adds, speaking of one of his own works, "And now let us come +to the last, my own, of which I am ashamed to speak after the others. +Publish it or not, as you like; I don't care a straw about it. If it +seems to you that it merits a place in the fourth volume, put it there, +or anywhere else; and if not, throw it into the fire." This poem, so +despised, was the "Siege of Corinth!"</p> + +<p>About the same time, on learning that Jeffrey had lauded "Hebrew +Melodies"—poems so much above all praise that one might believe them +(said a great mind lately)<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> thought by Isaiah and written by +Shakspeare—Lord Byron considered Jeffrey very kind to have been so +indulgent.</p> + +<p>With what simplicity or contempt does he always introduce his +<i>chefs-d'œuvre</i>, either by dedication to his friends, or to his +publisher.</p> + +<p>"I have put in press a devil of a story or tale, called the 'Corsair.' +It is of a pirate island, peopled with my own creatures, and you may +easily imagine that they will do a host of wicked things, in the course +of three cantos."</p> + +<p>And this <i>devil of a story or tale</i> had numberless editions. Several +thousand copies were sold in one day. We have already seen the modest +terms in which he announced to his friend Moore the termination of his +poem "Manfred." This is how he mentioned it to his publisher:—</p> + +<p>"I forgot to mention to you that a kind of poem in dialogue (in blank +verse), or drama, from which the translation is an extract, begun last +summer in Switzerland, is finished; it is in three acts, but of a very +wild, metaphysical, and inexplicable kind.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377] </a></span></p> + +<p>He describes to Murray the causes, and adds:—</p> + +<p>"You may perceive by this outline that I have no great opinion of +this piece of fantasy; but I have at least rendered it <i>quite +impossible</i> for the stage, for which my intercourse with Drury Lane +has given me the greatest contempt.</p> + +<p>"I have not even copied it off, and feel too lazy at present to +attempt the whole; but when I have, I will send it to you, and you +may either throw it into the fire or not.</p> + +<p>"I have really and truly no notion whether it is good or bad, and +as this was not the case with the principal of my former +publications, I am, therefore, inclined to rank it very humbly. You +will submit it to Mr. Gifford, and to whomsoever you please +besides. With regard to the question of copyright (if it ever comes +to publication), I do not know whether you would think <i>three +hundred</i> guineas an overestimate, if you do you may diminish it. I +do not think it worth more.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span><a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a></p> + +<p>"Venice, March 9, 1817."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron never protested against or complained of any criticism as to +the talent displayed in his works. His protests (much too rare, alas!) +never had any other object than to repel some abominable calumny. When +they criticised without good faith and without measure his beautiful +dramas, saying they were not adapted for the stage, what did he reply?</p> + +<p>"It appears that I do not possess dramatic genius."</p> + +<p>His observations on that wicked and unmerited article in "Blackwood's +Magazine" for 1819, are quite a <i>chef-d'œuvre</i> of reasoning and +modesty. There again, if he defends the man a little, he condemns the +poet.</p> + +<p>His modesty was such that he almost went so far as to see, in the enmity +stirred up against him during his latter years, a symptom of the decay +of his talent. He really seemed to attach value to his genius only when +it could be enlisted in the service of his heart.</p> + +<p>In 1821, being at Ravenna, and writing his memoranda, he recalls that +one day in London (1814), just as he was stepping into a carriage with +Moore (whom he calls with all his heart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378] </a></span> the poet <i>par excellence</i>), he +received a Java Gazette, sent by Murray, and that on looking over it, he +found a discussion on his merits and those of Moore. And, after some +modest amusing sentences, he goes on to say:—</p> + +<p>"It was a great fame to be named with Moore; greater to be compared with +him; greatest <i>pleasure</i>, at least, to be <i>with</i> him; and, surely, an +odd coincidence, that we should be dining together while they were +quarrelling about us beyond the equinoctial line. Well, the same +evening, I met Lawrence the painter, and heard one of Lord Grey's +daughters (a fine, tall, spirited-looking girl, with much of the +patrician thorough-bred look of her father, which I dote upon) play on +the harp, so modestly and ingenuously, that she looked music. Well, I +would rather have had my talk with Lawrence (who talked delightfully) +and heard the girl, than have had all the fame of Moore and me put +together. The only pleasure of fame is that it paves the way to +pleasure; and the more intellectual our pleasure, the better for the +pleasure and for us too."<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></p> + +<p>This modesty sometimes even carried him so far as to lead him into most +extraordinary appreciation of things. For instance, he almost thought it +blamable to have one's own bust done in marble, unless it were for the +sake of a friend. Apropos of a young American who came to see him at +Ravenna, and who told him he was commissioned by Thorwaldsen to have a +copy of his bust made and sent to America, Lord Byron wrote in his +journal:—</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> would not pay the price of a Thorwaldsen bust for any human head +and shoulders, except Napoleon's, or my children's or some <i>absurd +womankind's</i>, as Monkbarns calls them, or my sister's. If asked why, +then, I sat for my own? Answer, that it was at the particular request of +J.C. Hobhouse, Esq., and for no one else. A picture is a different +matter; every body sits for their picture; but a bust looks like putting +up <i>pretensions to permanency</i>, and smacks something of a <i>hankering for +public fame rather than private remembrance</i>."</p> + +<p>Let us add to all these proofs of Lord Byron's modesty, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379] </a></span>that his great +experience of men and things, the doubts inseparable from deep learning, +and his indulgence for human weakness, rendered his reason most tolerant +in its exigencies, and that he never endeavored to impose his opinions +on others. But while remaining essentially a modest genius, Lord Byron +did not, however, ignore his own value. If he had doubted himself, if he +had wanted a just measure of confidence in his genius, could he have +found in his soul the energy necessary for accomplishing in a few years +such a marvellous literary career? His modesty did not proceed from +conscious inferiority with regard to others.</p> + +<p>Could the intellect that caused him to appreciate others so well fail to +make him feel his own great superiority? But that <i>relative superiority</i> +which he felt in himself left him <i>perfectly modest</i>, or he knew it was +subject to other relations that showed it to him in extreme littleness: +that is to say, the relation of the finite with the aspiration toward +the infinite. It was the appreciation of the immense distance existing +between what we know and what we ignore, between what we are and what we +would be; the consciousness, in fact, of the limits imposed by God on +man, and which neither study nor excellence of faculties can ever enable +us to pass beyond.</p> + +<p>Those rare beings, whose greatness of soul equals their penetration of +mind, can not themselves feel the fascination they exercise over others; +and while performing miracles of genius, devotion, and heroism, remain +admirably simple, natural, and modest, believing that they do not +outstep the humblest limits.</p> + +<p>Such was Lord Byron. We may then sum up by saying that he was not only a +modest genius, but also that, instead of being too proud of his genius, +he may rather be accused of having too little appreciated this great +gift, as well as many others bestowed by Heaven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> The first two cantos of "Childe Harold."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> Moore, vol. i. p. 512.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> The present Dean of Westminster.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> Moore, Letter 265.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> Moore, vol. v. p. 76.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE VIRTUES OF HIS SOUL.</h3> + +<p class="center"><b>HIS GENEROSITY A VIRTUE.</b></p> + + +<p>All that we have hitherto said, proves that Lord Byron's generosity has +never been disputed; but the generosity usually attributed to him was an +innate quality, the impulse of a good heart, naturally inclined to +bestow benefits.</p> + +<p>Certainly, to distribute among the poor our superfluities, and very +often more than that, to borrow rather than suffer the unfortunate to +wait for assistance; to subtract from our pleasures, and even to bear +privations, the better to help all the afflicted, without distinction of +opinion, age, or sex; to measure the kindness done rather by their +wants, than our own resources, and to do all that, without ostentation, +habitually, in secret and unknown, with God and our conscience for sole +witnesses: certainly, all that is full of moral beauty; and we know on +what a large scale Lord Byron practiced it all his life. We have seen +him in childhood, of which we should vainly seek one more amiable and +more admirable, wish to take upon himself the punishments destined for +his comrades; rescue their hall from the senseless fury of his +school-fellows, by showing them the dear names of their parents written +on the walls; desire to expose himself to death, to save a comrade, who +had two parents to regret his loss, while he himself had only one; and +send his good nurse the first watch of which he became possessed,—and +we know what a treasure the first watch is to a child. We have followed +him later, a youth at college, at the university, and at Newstead, in +his devoted passionate affections; a young man on his travels, and in +the midst of the great world, and we have seen his compassion for every +kind of misfortune, and his mode of assuaging them.</p> + +<p>When we perceive, despite the ardor and mobility of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381] </a></span> heart, where so +many contrary elements combined, contradicted, jarred against, or +succeeded each other, that there never was a single instant in his life +when generosity did not reign supreme over every impulse and +consideration, not only are we compelled to pronounce him generous, but +we are likewise forced to acknowledge that generosity, with a passion +for truth, divided the empire of his soul, and formed the two principal +features of his character. But if his generosity had ended in only +satisfying the fine tendencies of his nature, would it have acquired the +right to be called virtuous? We do not think so. For generosity, to +merit that sacred epithet, must express sentiments rarer and more +elevated, arrive at the highest triumph of moral strength, at the +greatest self-abnegation; it must succeed in overcoming appetite, in +forgetting the most just resentments, in returning good for evil. Then, +alone, can generosity attain that sublime degree which entitles it to be +called a virtue.</p> + +<p>Did Lord Byron's generosity reach this great moral height? Let us +examine facts; they alone can answer.</p> + +<p>If a young man lends assistance to a young and beautiful girl, without +any interested motive, and with exquisite delicacy, he certainly gives +proof that he possesses delicacy of soul. His merit becomes much greater +if he acts thus solely to save her honor. But if the young girl, full of +gratitude, falls deeply in love with her benefactor; if, unable to hide +the impression produced on her heart by his presence and his generosity, +she makes him understand that her gratitude would have no limits; and if +he, at the age when passion is all awake, though touched by the +sentiments this charming person has conceived, nevertheless shuts his +senses against all temptations, does not the greatness of his soul then +become admirable? Well, this was fully realized in Lord Byron. And not +only in a single instance; but often during his life. For, if +temptations were numerous, so were victories also. We will only quote +one example, with sufficient details to make it justly appreciated.</p> + +<p>Miss S——, who had been bred in ease, but who, with her family, had +been reduced, through a series of misfortunes, to absolute want, found +herself exposed to the greatest evil that can menace a portionless girl. +Her mother, whose temper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382] </a></span> had been soured by reverses which had likewise +quite overthrown her sense of morality, had become one of those women +who consider poverty the worst of all evils. Unscrupulous as to the +means of putting an end to it, she did not think it necessary to fortify +her daughter's mind by good counsels. Happily the young girl had lofty +sentiments and natural dignity. Secure from vulgar seduction, and guided +by wholesome steady principles, she desired to depend only on her +talents for gaining a livelihood, and for assisting her parents. Having +written a small volume of poetry, she had already got subscriptions from +persons of high position; but her great desire was to obtain Lord +Byron's name.</p> + +<p>An impulse, often recurring, induced her to apply to the young nobleman, +who was then still unmarried. She only knew him through his works, and +by report, which already associated with admiration for his talents a +thousand calumnies concerning his moral character. The skeptical stanzas +of "Childe Harold" still troubled orthodox repose; the lines on the +tears of the Princess Royal irritated the Tories, and his last success +with the "Corsair," added to those he had already gained, further +embittered his jealous rivals. Thus calumnies made up from these +different elements besieged the poet's house, so as to prevent truth +concerning the man from being known. Even in her family, Miss S—— +found hostility against him; for her mother, who called herself a Tory, +only discovered moral delicacy when she wished to show her repugnance +for the Whig party, to which Lord Byron belonged. Miss S——, in a +moment of extreme anguish and pressing embarrassment, resolved upon +applying to the young nobleman. He received her with respect and +consideration, and soon perceived how intimidated she was by the rather +bold step she had taken, and also by the cause that prompted it. Lord +Byron reassured her, by treating her with peculiar kindness, as he +questioned her respecting her circumstances. When she had related the +sad reasons that determined her to ask him for a subscription, Lord +Byron rang for his valet, and ordered a desk to be brought to him. Then, +with that delicacy of heart which formed such a remarkable trait in his +character, he wrote down, while still conversing, a few words, which he +wrapped up in an envelope, and gave to the young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383] </a></span> lady. She soon after +withdrew, thinking she had obtained the coveted subscription.</p> + +<p>When fairly out, all she had seen and heard appeared to her like a +dream. The door which had just closed behind her seemed the gate of +Eden, opening on a land of exile. Nevertheless, she was to see him +again. He had consented to receive her volume. Lord Byron was not for +her the angel with the flaming sword, but rather an angel of gentleness, +mercy, and love. Never had she seen or imagined such a combination of +enchantments; never had she seen so much beauty, nor heard such a voice; +never had such a sweet expressive glance met hers. "No;" she repeated to +herself, "he is not a man, but some celestial being. <i>Oh, mamma, Lord +Byron is an angel!</i>" were the first words that escaped her on returning +home. The envelope was opened; and a new surprise awaited them. Together +with his subscription, she found, wrapped up, fifty pounds. That sum +was, indeed, a treasure for her. She fell on her knees with all her +family; even her mother forgot for the moment that it was Whig money to +which they owed their deliverance, and seemed almost to agree with her +eldest daughter, whose enthusiasm communicated itself to the younger +one, who never wearied in questioning her sister about Lord Byron's +perfections, until the night was far spent.</p> + +<p>But if the family was thus relieved, if the young girl's honor was safe, +her peace of mind was gone. The contempt and dislike she already felt +for several men who were hovering about her with alarming offers of +protection, were now further increased by the comparison she was enabled +to make between their vulgar and low, basely hypocritical or openly +licentious natures, and that of the noble being she had just seen.</p> + +<p>Thenceforth Byron's dazzling image never left her mind. It remained +fixed there during the day, to reappear at night in her dreams and +visions. Such a hold had it gained over her entire being, that Miss +S—— seemed from that hour to live heart and soul only in the hope of +seeing him again.</p> + +<p>When she returned to take him her book, she found that she had to add to +all the other charms of this superior being that respect which the +wisdom of mature age seems only able<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384] </a></span> to inspire. For he not only spoke +to her of what might best suit her position, and disapproved some of her +mother's projects, as dangerous for her honor, but even refused to go +and see her as she requested; nor would he give her a letter of +introduction to the Duke of Devonshire, simply, because a handsome girl +could not be introduced by a young man without having her reputation +compromised.</p> + +<p>The more Miss S—— saw of Lord Byron, the more intense her passion for +him became. It seemed to her that all to which heart could aspire, all +of happiness that heaven could give here below, must be found in the +love of such a pre-eminent being. Lord Byron soon perceived the danger +of these visits. Miss S—— was beautiful, witty, and charming; Lord +Byron was twenty-six years of age. How many young men, in a similar +case, would not without a scruple have thought that he had only to cull +this flower which seemed voluntarily to tempt him? Lord Byron never +entertained such an idea. Innocent of all intentional seduction, unable +to render her happy, even if he could have returned her sentiments, +instead of being proud of having inspired them, he was distressed at +having done so. He did not wish to prove the source of new misfortunes +to this young girl, already so tried by fate, and without guide or +counsellor. So he resolved to use all his efforts toward restoring her +peace. It would be too long to tell the delicate mode he used to attain +this end, the generous stratagems he employed to heal this poor wounded +heart. He went so far as to try to appear less amiable. For the sake of +destroying any hope, he assumed a cold, stern, troubled air; but on +perceiving that he had only aggravated the evil, his kindliness of heart +could resist no longer, and he hit on other expedients. Finally he +succeeded in making her comprehend the necessity of putting an end to +her visits. She left his house, having ever been treated with respect, +the innocence of their mutual intercourse unstained; and the young man's +sacrifice only permitted one kiss imprinted on the lovely brow of her +whose strong feelings for himself he well knew.</p> + +<p>What this victory, gained by his will and his sentiment as a man of +honor over his senses and his heart, cost Lord Byron, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385] </a></span>has remained his +own secret. But those who will imagine themselves in similar +circumstances at the age of twenty-six, may conceive it. As to Miss +S——, the excess of her emotions made her ill; and she long hung +between life and death. Nevertheless, the strength of youth prevailed, +and ended by giving her back physical health. But was her mind equally +cured? The only light that had brightened her path had gone out, and, +plunged in darkness, how did she pursue her course through life? Was her +heart henceforth closed to every affection? Or did she chain it down to +the fulfillment of some austere duty, that stood her in lieu of +happiness? Or, as it sometimes happens to stricken hearts, did a color, +a sound, a breeze, one feature in a face, call up hallucinations, give +her vain longings, make her build fresh hopes and prepare for her new +deceptions? Proof against all meannesses, but young and most unhappy, +was she always able to resist the promptings of a warm, feeling, +grateful heart? We are ignorant of all this. We only know of her, that +never again in her long career did she meet united in one man that +profusion of gifts, physical, intellectual, and moral, that made Lord +Byron seem like a being above humanity. She tells it to us herself, in +letters written at the distance that separates 1814 from 1864, lately +published in French, preceding and accompanying a narrative composed in +her own language, in which she has related her impressions of Lord +Byron, and given the details of all that took place between her and him. +It was a duty, she says, that remained for her to accomplish here below.</p> + +<p>Her narrative and these letters are charming from their simplicity and +naïveté; what she says bears the stamp of plain truth, her admiration +has nothing high-flown in it, and her style is never wanting in the +sobriety which ought always to accompany truth, in order to make it +penetrate into other minds.</p> + +<p>We would fain transcribe these pages, that evidently flow from an +elevated and sincerely grateful heart. For they reflect great honor on +Lord Byron, since, in showing the strength of the impression made on the +young girl, they bring out more fully all the self-denial he must have +exercised in regard to her; likewise, because, in her letters, this +lady, after so long an experience of life, never ceases proclaiming Lord +Byron the handsomest, the most generous, and the best of men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386] </a></span> she ever +knew. But though it is impossible for me to reproduce all she says, +still I feel it necessary to quote some passages from her book. In the +first letter addressed to Mrs. B——, she says:—</p> + +<p>"At the moment of the separation between Lord Byron and that woman who +caused the misery of his life, I was not in London; and I was so ill, +that I could neither go to see him nor write as I wished. For he had +shown me so much goodness and generosity that my heart was bursting with +gratitude and sorrow; and never have I had any means of expressing +either to him, except through my little offering.<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> Even now my heart +is breaking at the thought of the injustice with which he has been +treated.</p> + +<p>"His friend Moore, to whom he had confided his memoirs, written with his +own hand, had not the courage to fulfill faithfully the desire of his +generous friend. Lady Blessington made a book upon him very profitable +<i>to herself</i>, but in which she does not always paint Lord Byron <i>en +beau</i>, and where she has related a thousand things that Lord Byron only +meant in joke, and which ought not to have been either written or +published. And when it is remembered that this lady (as I am assured) +never saw or conversed with Lord Byron but out of doors, when she +happened to meet him on horseback, and very rarely (two or three times) +when he consented to dine at her house, in both of these cases, in too +numerous a company for the conversation to be of an intimate nature; +when it is known (as I am further assured) that Lord Byron was so much +on his guard with this lady (aware of her being an authoress), that he +never accepted an invitation to dine with her, unless when his friend +Count Gamba did: truly, we may then conclude that these conversations +were materially impossible, and must have been a clever +mystification,—a composition got up on the biographies of Lord Byron +that had already appeared, on Moore's works, Medwin's, Lord Byron's +correspondence, and, above all, on "Don Juan." She must have made her +choice, without any regard to truth or to Lord Byron's honor; rather +selecting such facts, expressions, and observations as allowed her to +assume the part of a moral,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387] </a></span> sensitive woman, to sermonize, by way of +gaining favor with the strict set of people in high society, and to be +able to bring out her own opinions on a number of things and persons, +without fear of compromising herself, since she put them into Lord +Byron's mouth.</p> + +<p>"Verily these conversations can not be explained in any other way. At +any rate, I confess this production of her ladyship so displeased me +that I threw it aside, unable to read it without ill-humor and disgust. +At that time (1814) he was not married; and I beheld in him a young man +of the rarest beauty. Superior intellect shone in his countenance; his +manners were at once full of simplicity and dignity; his voice was +sweet, rich, and melodious. If Lord Byron had defects (and who has not?) +he also possessed very great virtues, with a dignity and sincerity of +character seldom to be found. The more I have known the world, the more +have I rendered homage to Lord Byron's memory."</p> + +<p>Miss S—— wrote thus to a person with whom she was not acquainted; but, +encouraged by the answer she received, she dispatched a second letter, +opening her heart still further, and sending some details of her +intercourse with Lord Byron,—what she had seen and known of him.</p> + +<p>"Ah! madam," she exclaims, "if you knew the happiness, the consolation I +feel in writing to you, knowing that all I say of him will be well +received, and that you believe all these details so creditable to him!"</p> + +<p>In the same letter, she declares "that when he was exposed to the +attacks of jealousy and a thousand calumnies spread against him, he +always said, 'Do not defend me.'</p> + +<p>"But, madam, how can we be silent when we hear such infamous things said +against one so incapable of them? I have always said frankly what I +thought of him, and defended him in such a way as to carry conviction +into the minds of those who heard me. But a combat between one person +and many is not equal, and I have several times been ill with vexation. +Never mind; what I can do, I will."</p> + +<p>She announced her intention of communicating the whole history of her +acquaintance with Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>"I am about to commence, madam, the account of my acquaintance with our +great and noble poet. I shall write all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388] </a></span> concerning him in English, +because I can thus make use of his own words, which are graven in my +heart, as well as all the circumstances relating to him. I will give you +these details, madam, in all their simplicity; but their value consists +less in the words he made use of, than in the manner accompanying them, +in the sweetness of his voice, his delicacy and politeness at the moment +when he was granting a favor, rendering me such a great service. Oh! +yes, he was really good and generous; never, in all my long years, have +I seen a man <i>worthy to be compared to him</i>."</p> + +<p>She wrote again on the 10th of November, 1864:—</p> + +<p>"Here, madam, are the details I promised you about my first interview +with Lord Byron. I give them to you in all their simplicity. I make no +attempt at style; but simply tell unvarnished truth; for, with regard to +Lord Byron, I consider truth the most important thing,—his name is the +greatest ornament of the page whereon it is inscribed. I will also send +you, madam, if you desire, my second and third interview with this +noble, admirable man, who was so <i>misjudged</i>. To write this history is a +great happiness for me; since I know that, in so doing, I render him +that justice so often denied him by the envious and the wicked.</p> + +<p>"His conduct toward me was always so beautiful and noble, that I would +fain make it known to the whole world. I think they are beginning to +render him the justice that is his due; everywhere now he is +quoted—<i>Byron said this, Byron thought that</i>—that is what I hear +continually, and many persons who formerly spoke against him, now +testify in his favor.</p> + +<p>"They say we ought not to speak evil of the dead; that is very well, but +as this maxim was not observed toward Lord Byron, I also will repeat +what I have heard said of his wife—I mean that the blame was hers—that +her temper was so bad, her manners so harsh and disagreeable, that no +one could endure her society; that she was avaricious, wicked, scolding; +that people hated to wait upon her or live near her. How dared this lady +to marry a man so distinguished, and then to treat him ill and +tyrannically? Truly it is inconceivable. If she were charitable for the +poor (as some one has pretended), she certainly wanted Christian +charity. And I also am wanting in it perhaps; but, when I think of her, +I lose all patience."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389] </a></span></p> + +<p>On announcing to Mrs. B—— the sequel of her narrative, she says:—</p> + +<p>"It contains the history of the two days that passed after my first +interview with him whom I ever found the <i>noblest and most generous</i> of +men, whose memory lives in my heart like a brilliant star amid the dark +and gloomy clouds that have often surrounded me in life; it is the +single ray of sunshine illumining my remembrances of the past."</p> + +<p>Miss S—— had not forgotten a look, a word, not even the material +external part of things; and when Mrs. B—— expressed her astonishment +at this lively recollection,—</p> + +<p>"All that concerned Lord Byron," said she, "has been retained by my +heart. I recall his words, gestures, looks, now, as if it had all taken +place yesterday. I believe this is owing to his great and beautiful +qualities, such a rare assemblage of which I never saw in any other +human being.</p> + +<p>"There was so much truth in all he said, so much simplicity in all he +did, that every thing became indelibly engraven on heart and memory."</p> + +<p>After having said that Lord Byron gave her the best counsels, and among +others that of living with her mother ("not knowing," she adds, "to what +it would expose me"), she continues:</p> + +<p>"You say, madam, there is no cause for astonishment that I so admire and +respect Lord Byron. In all he said, or advised, there was so much right +reason, goodness and judgment far above his age, that one remained +enthralled."</p> + +<p>On sending the conclusion of her history to Mrs. B——, she says:—</p> + +<p>"You who knew Lord Byron, will not be surprised that I loved him so +much. But a woman does not pass through such a trial with impunity. On +returning home, I threw myself on my knees and tried to pray, imploring +Heaven for strength and patience. But the sound of his voice, his looks, +pierced to my very heart, my soul felt torn asunder; I could not even +weep. For two years and a half I was no longer myself. A man of high +position offered me his hand. He would have placed me in the first +society; but he wished for love, and I could only offer him friendship."</p> + +<p>And, finally, when the reception of the concluding part of her narrative +was acknowledged, she further added:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I am very glad that the history of my heart appears to you a precious +document for proving the virtues of one whom I have ever looked upon as +the <i>first of men, as well for his qualities as for his genius</i>."</p> + +<p>Her last letter ends exactly as did her first:—"<i>Ah! there never was +but one Lord Byron!</i>" In her narrative, which is quite as natural in +style as her letters, no detail of her interviews with Lord Byron has +escaped her memory.<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a></p> + +<p>We have already seen how, in a moment of despair, the young girl, full +of confidence in Lord Byron, whom she considered as one of the noblest +characters that ever existed, thought she might go and ask his +protection. A fashionable young man, and still unmarried, the reports +current about him might well lead to the belief that his house was not +quite the temple of order. She was surprised on knocking timidly at his +door, on explaining to the <i>valet-de-chambre</i> who opened it, her great +desire to speak to Lord Byron, to see Fletcher listen to her with a +civil, compassionate air, that predisposed her in favor of his master.</p> + +<p>He conducted her into a small room, where all Lord Byron's servants were +assembled, and there also she was greatly surprised at the order and +simplicity in the establishment of the young lord.</p> + +<p>"I never saw servants more polite and respectful," says she. "Fletcher +and the coachman remained standing, only the old house-keeper kept her +seat."</p> + +<p>Miss S—— had dried her tears when admitted into Lord Byron's presence.</p> + +<p>"Surprise and admiration," says she, "were the first emotions I +experienced on seeing him. He was only twenty-six years of age, but he +looked still younger. I had been told that he was gloomy, severe, and +often out of temper: <i>I saw, on the contrary, a most attractive +physiognomy, wearing a look of charming sweetness.</i>"</p> + +<p>Miss S—— soon found cause to appreciate Lord Byron's delicacy. She +began by excusing herself for having come to him, saying she had taken +this step in consequence of family misfortunes. She remained standing. +After some moments<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391] </a></span> of silence, during which Lord Byron appeared to +interrogate memory, he said:—</p> + +<p>"Pray be seated; I will not hear another word until you are. You appear +to have an independent spirit, and this step must have cost you much."</p> + +<p>Having already partly seen the results of this interview, we refrain +from giving further details here, although they are full of interest on +account of the goodness, generosity, and delicacy they reveal.</p> + +<p>Miss S—— endeavored to draw his portrait, but the pencil dropped from +her hands:—</p> + +<p>"I feel that unless I could portray his look, and repeat his words as +pronounced by him, I could not even do justice to his actions."</p> + +<p>She does it, however in a few bold touches which, on account of their +truth, we have quoted in the chapter entitled <i>Portrait</i> of Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>After having said that it was impossible to see finer eyes, a more +beautiful expression of face, manners more graceful, hands more +exquisite, or to hear such a tone of voice, she adds:—</p> + +<p>"All that formed such an assemblage of seductive qualities, that never +before or since have I remarked any man who could be compared to him. +What particularly struck me was the serene, gentle dignity of his +manner. Lady Blessington says, that she did not find in Lord Byron quite +the dignity she had expected; but surely, then, she does not understand +what dignity is? Indeed she did not understand Lord Byron at all. With +me he was unaffected, amiable, and natural. The hours passed in his +society I look upon as the brightest of my life, and even now I think of +them with an effusion of gratitude and admiration, rather increased than +diminished by time."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron saw directly that Miss S—— had a noble nature. It must have +been such; it must even have been, so to say, <i>incorruptible</i>, since she +had been able to preserve her purity of soul and simplicity in the +position to which she was, despite her surroundings and with such a +mother. Lord Byron, seeing her so unprotected and ill-advised, took an +interest in her, and instead of profiting by her isolation, resolved to +save her. With virtue superior to his years, he opposed the best +counsels to the more than imprudent projects of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392] </a></span> mother who thought +only of repairing her fortune by whatever means. Miss S——, attracted +toward him with her whole heart and soul, begged her young and noble +benefactor to come and see her, if it were only once a month. "I should +be so happy, my lord, if you would sometimes grant me the favor of a +visit, and guide my life," said she to him.</p> + +<p>But Lord Byron had perceived the excited state of feeling in which the +young girl was. Besides, he was betrothed, and did not wish to expose +her and himself to the consequences. Honor and prudence alike counselled +a refusal, and he refused.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," answered he, "I can not. I will tell you my present +position, and you will understand that I ought not: I am going to +marry."</p> + +<p>"At these words," said she, "my heart sunk within me, as if a piece of +lead had fallen on my chest. At the same instant I experienced an acute +pain in it. It seemed as if a chilly steel had pierced me. A horrible, +indescribable sensation shook my whole frame. For some moments I could +not possibly articulate a single word. Lord Byron looked at me with an +expression full of interest, for indeed I must have changed +countenance."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron, already aware that his image was graven on this young heart, +and might become dangerous to her, then understood still better the +silent ravages that love must be making there. He pitied her more than +ever, he felt the necessity of refusal and sacrifice, and, from that +moment, all struggle between will and desire ceased.</p> + +<p>He also refused, after some hesitation, to recommend her to the Duke of +Devonshire.</p> + +<p>"You are young and pretty," said he, "and that is sufficient to place +any man, wishing to serve you, in a false position. You know how the +world understands a young man's friendship and interest for a young +woman. No; my name must not appear in a recommendation to the duke. +Don't think me disobliging, therefore. On the contrary, I wish you to +make an appeal to Devonshire, but without naming me; I have told you my +reasons for refusing to be openly your advocate."</p> + +<p>"Another time," adds she, "I ventured to express the wish of being +presented to the future Lady Byron. But he again answered by a refusal. +'Though amiable and unsuspicious,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393] </a></span> said he, 'persons about Lady Byron +might put jealous suspicions, devoid of foundation, into her head.'"</p> + +<p>Thus equally by what he refused her and what he granted her, he proved +his great generosity, the elevation of his character, his virtuous +abnegation and self-control.</p> + +<p>Although Miss S—— was then in an humble and humiliating position, she +had received a fine classical and intellectual education from her uncle, +who was a professor at Cambridge. Her natural wit, the <i>naïveté</i> and +sincerity of her ideas, uncontaminated by worldly knowledge, were +appreciated by Lord Byron. He understood her worth, despite the +difficulties that made virtue of greater merit in her, and +notwithstanding appearances that were against her; and he showed +interest in her conversation during the different interviews she +obtained from him. He talked to her of literature, the news of the day; +and even had the goodness to read with indulgence and approbation the +verses she had composed. One day, among others, she had the happiness of +remaining with him till a late hour, and when his carriage was +announced, to take him to a <i>soirée</i>, he had her conducted home in the +same carriage.</p> + +<p>"Oh! how delightful that evening was to me," says she. "Lord Byron's +abode at the Albany recalled some collegiate dwelling, so perfectly +quiet was it, though situated at the West End, the noisiest quarter of +the metropolis. His conversation so varied and delightful, the purity of +his English, his refined pronunciation, all offered such a contrast even +with the most distinguished men I had had the good fortune to meet, that +I really learned what happiness was."</p> + +<p>These conversations afforded her the opportunity of knowing and admiring +him still more. In conversing on literature, she was able to appreciate +his modesty by the praises he lavished on the talents of others, and by +the slight importance he attached to his own; and also his love of truth +when, <i>à propos</i> of some book of travels she was praising, he told her +that he preferred a simple but true tale of voyages to all the pomp of +lies. In speaking about an adventure in high life that was then making a +great noise in England, she was able to appreciate his high sentiments +of delicacy and honor. When the conversation fell on religion, she had +the happiness of hearing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394] </a></span> him declare he abhorred atheism and unbelief; +and when his childhood was touched upon, of hearing him say that it had +been pleasant and happy. Finally, when she asked his advice with regard +to her future conduct, he displayed, at twenty-six years of age, the +wisdom that seldom comes before the advent of gray hairs. In short, by +word and by action, he manifested that nobleness of soul which always +unveiled itself to pure open natures, but which closed against +artificial ones; and which makes Miss S—— say at the beginning as well +as at the end of her account:—"There has been but one Byron on earth: +how could I not love him?"</p> + +<p>But it is especially on account of the great love she felt for him, on +going over it, reflecting, comparing the depth of feelings she had been +unable to hide from him, with the conduct of this young man of +twenty-six, who drew from duty alone a degree of strength superior to +his age and sex, that she expressed herself thus. She can still see his +looks of tenderness; she can judge what the struggle was, the combat +that was going on in him as soft and stern glances chased each other; at +length she sees honor gain the victory, and remain triumphant.</p> + +<p>It is this spectacle of such great moral beauty, still before her eyes, +that can be so well appreciated after the lapse of long years, and which +justifies the words that begin and close her recital by divesting it of +all semblance of exaggeration:—"There has been but one Byron!"</p> + +<p>When we have known such beings, admiration and love outlive all else. +And while the causes that may have led to transient emotions in a long +career—an error, a fault—pass away and are forgotten like some +beautiful vision, these glorious remembrances, these more than human +images, tower above, living and radiant, in memory, and even come to +visit us in our dreams, sometimes to reproach us with our useless and +imprudent doubts, ever to sustain us amid the sadnesses of life; and if +the love has been reciprocal, then to console us with the prospect of +another life, in that blessed abode where we shall meet again forever.</p> + +<p>After this long narrative, it would be useless and perhaps wearisome for +the reader if we quoted many other similar facts in Lord Byron's life. +They might differ in circumstances, but would all wear the same moral +character.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> She had dedicated to him a small collection of poems, +which she sent to Pisa, in 1821, with a letter, <i>to which she received +no answer</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> "All that," says she, "lives in my heart and soul, as if +these things had taken place a few weeks ago, instead of so many years" +(1864).</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>GENEROSITY A HEROISM.</h3> + +<p class="center"><b>PARDON, MAGNANIMITY.</b></p> + + +<p>It remains for us to examine Lord Byron's generosity under another form. +I mean that which, after having passed by different degrees of moral +beauty, may reach the highest summit of virtue, and become the greatest +triumph of moral strength, because it overcomes the most just +resentments, forgives, returns good for evil, and constitutes the very +heroism of Christian charity.</p> + +<p>Did Lord Byron's generosity really attain such a high degree? To +convince ourselves of it, we must again examine his life.</p> + +<p>Clemency and forgiveness showed themselves in Lord Byron at all periods +of his life. In childhood, in youth, though so passionate, and so +sensitive at school and at college, so soon as the first explosion was +over, he was ever ready to make peace.</p> + +<p>In the poems composed during his boyhood and early youth, he was always +the first to forgive. He even forgave his wicked guardian (Lord +Carlisle). Although this latter only evinced indifference, or worse, +with regard to his ward, Lord Byron dedicated his first poems to him. +The noble earl having further aggravated his faults by behaving in an +unjustifiable manner, Lord Byron was of course greatly irritated, since +he hurled some satirical lines at him. But soon after, at the +intercession of friends, and especially at that of his sister, he showed +himself disposed to forget the faults of his bad guardian with all the +clemency inherent to his generous nature. He writes to Rogers, 27th +June, 1814:—"Are there any chances or possibility of ending this, and +making our peace with Carlisle? I am disposed to do all that is +reasonable (or unreasonable) to arrive at it. I would even have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396] </a></span> done so +sooner; but the 'Courier' newspaper, and a thousand disagreeable +interpretations, have prevented me."</p> + +<p>Afterward, he further sealed this generous pardon by those fine verses +in the third canto of "Childe Harold," where he laments the death of +Major Howard, Lord Carlisle's son, killed at Waterloo.<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p> + +<p>He forgave Miss Chaworth; and in this case also there was great +generosity. The history of this boyish love is well known. Even if the +name of love should be refused to the feeling entertained by a child of +fifteen for a girl of eighteen, who only looked upon him, it is said, as +a boy, and liked him as a brother, not only on account of the difference +of age, but also because she was already attached to the young man whom +she afterward married, still it can not be denied that these first +awakenings of the heart, though full of illusion, cause great suffering. +For if Lord Byron was a child in years, he was already a young man in +intellect, soul, imagination, and sensibility. That Miss Chaworth should +raise emotion in his heart is very comprehensible, for every girl has +good chances of appearing an angel to youths, whose preference +invariably falls on women older than themselves. Besides, Miss Chaworth +was placed in quite exceptional circumstances with regard to Lord Byron, +such as were well calculated to act powerfully on the imagination of a +boy, and render the dispelling of his poetic dream a most painful +reality.</p> + +<p>Miss Chaworth was heiress of the noble family whose name she bore, and +her uncle had been killed in a duel by the last Lord Byron, grand-uncle +of the poet. She resided with her family at Annesley, a seat two miles +distant from Newstead Abbey. Their two properties touched each other; +but the slight barrier separating them was marked with blood. The two +children then, despite their near vicinity, only saw each other by +chance, or by secretly getting over the boundary of their respective +grounds. The chief obstacle to the reconciliation of the two families +was the young girl's father. But when Lord Byron reached his fourteenth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397] </a></span> +year, and, according to custom, came from Harrow to pass his holidays at +Newstead, Mr. Chaworth was dead, and the mother of the young heiress +received him at Annesley with open arms, for she did not partake her +husband's feelings, but, on the contrary, looked forward with pleasure +to the possibility of a union with her daughter, despite the difference +of age between them. The development of their mutual sympathy was +equally encouraged by the professors, governesses, and all surrounding +the young lady, for they liked young Byron extremely.</p> + +<p>From that time he had his room at Annesley, and was looked upon as one +of the family. As to the young lady, she made him the companion of her +amusements. In the gardens, parks, on horseback, in all excursions, he +was constantly by her side. For him she played, and sang to the piano. +What was her love for him? Were there not moments in which she did not +look upon him only as a brother, or a child? Did she ever contemplate +the possibility of becoming his wife?</p> + +<p>Moore does not think so.</p> + +<p>"Neither is it, indeed, probable," says he, "had even her affections +been disengaged, that Lord Byron would, at this time, have been selected +as the object of them. A seniority of two years gives to a girl, 'on the +eve of womanhood,' an advance into life with which the boy keeps no +proportionate pace. Miss Chaworth looked upon Byron as a mere schoolboy. +His manners, too, were not yet formed, and his great beauty was still in +its promise and not developed."</p> + +<p>Galt is still more explicit in the same sense. Washington Irving appears +to think the contrary:—</p> + +<p>"Was this love returned?" says he. "Byron sometimes speaks as if it had +been; at other times he says, on the contrary, that she never gave him +reason to believe so. It is, however, probable, that at the commencement +her heart experienced at least fluctuations of feeling: she was at a +dangerous age. Though a child in years, Lord Byron was already a man in +intelligence, a poet in imagination, and possessed of great beauty."</p> + +<p>This opinion is the most probable. We may add that every thing must have +contributed to keep up his illusion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398] </a></span> Miss Chaworth gave him her +portrait, her hair, and a ring. Mrs. Chaworth, the governess, all the +family of the young heiress liked him so much, that after his death, +when Washington Irving visited Annesley, he found proofs of this +affection in the welcome given to, and the emotion caused even by the +presence of a dog that had belonged to Lord Byron. This beautiful waking +dream lasted, however, only the space of a dream in sleep.</p> + +<p>At the expiration of his six weeks' holidays, young Byron returned to +Harrow.</p> + +<p>While he was cherishing the sacred flame with his purest energies of +soul, what did she? She had forgotten him! The impression made on her +heart by the schoolboy's love could not withstand the test of absence. +She gave her heart to another.</p> + +<p>"I thought myself a man," says he; "I was in earnest, she was fickle."</p> + +<p>It was natural, however. She had arrived at the age when girls become +women, and leave their childish loves behind them.</p> + +<p>While young Byron was pursuing his studies, Miss Chaworth mixed in +society. She met with a young man, named Musters, remarkable for his +handsome person, and whose property lay contiguous to her own.</p> + +<p>She had perceived him one day from her terrace, galloping toward the +park followed by his hounds, the horn sounding in front, and he leading +a fox hunt; she had been struck with his manly beauty and graceful +carriage. From that day his image seated itself in her remembrance, and +probably in her heart. It was under these favorable auspices that he +made her acquaintance in society. Soon he gained her love. And when +young Byron at the next vacation saw her again, she was already the +willing betrothed of another.</p> + +<p>That was still, however, a secret locked up in her heart. Her parents +would not have wished this union. She had not then declared her +intentions, and Lord Byron could not of course guess them. He was still +welcomed at Annesley, and treated as heretofore. The young lady herself, +instead of repelling him, continued to accept his attentions. This +lasted until one day when Musters was bathing with Byron in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399] </a></span> river +that ran through the park he perceived a ring which he recognized as +having belonged to Miss Chaworth. This discovery, and the scenes it gave +rise to, obliged the lady to declare her preference.</p> + +<p>The grief this broken illusion caused Lord Byron is shown by some of his +early verses, and by the "Dream," written at Geneva, while musing how +different his fate might have been if he had married Miss Chaworth, +instead of Miss Milbank. It might be objected that sorrows, the proof of +which rests on poetry, are not very authentic, and that it is not quite +certain they really did pass through his heart. One might consider with +Galt that this childish sentiment was less a real feeling of love than +the phantom of an enthusiastic attachment, quite intellectual in its +nature, like others that possessed such power over Lord Byron, since +Miss Chaworth was not the sole object of his attention, but divided it +with study and passionate friendships. One might say, with Moore, that +the poetic description given by Lord Byron of this childish love, ought +to serve especially to show how genius and sentiment may raise the +realities of life, and give an immense lustre to the most ordinary +events and objects. In short, one might think that Lord Byron perceived +all the poetic advantages accruing from the remembrance of a youthful +passion, at once innocent, pure, and unhappy; how it would furnish him +with a magic tint to enrich his palette with an inexhaustible fund of +sweet, graceful, and pathetic fancies, with delicate, lofty, and noble +sentiments, and therefore that he resolved to shut it up in his heart, +so as to preserve its freshness amid the withering atmosphere of the +world; and in order to draw thence those exquisite images that so often +shed ineffable grace and tenderness over his poems. It may, then, be +said that, by maintaining alive in his mind scenes passed at Annesley, +which recall the chaste, unhappy loves of Romeo and Juliet, and Lucy, he +thereby satisfied an intellectual want of the poet that was quite +independent of his heart as a man.</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, all those who can feel the heart's beatings through +the veil of poetic language will understand that Lord Byron's verses on +Mary Chaworth owe their origin to real grief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400] </a></span></p> + +<p>Could it be otherwise? The experience resulting from reflection and +comparison, which made him afterward say, that the perfections of the +girl were the creation of his imagination at fifteen, because he found +her in reality quite other than angelic;<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> that she was fickle, and +had deceived him. This experience, I say, was wanting to the child. +Thus, then, Miss Chaworth was for him at that period the beau ideal of +all his young fancy could paint as best and most charming.</p> + +<p>At the same time, this love, notwithstanding the difference of age, was +not, on his side, the giddy result of too much ardor. It was composed of +a thousand circumstances and feelings,—of practical, wise, and generous +thoughts. A far-off prospect of happiness heightened all the noble +instincts of the boy, and all the ideas of order that belonged to his +fine moral nature.</p> + +<p>To reunite two noble families,—to efface the stain of blood and hatred +through love,—to revive again the ancient splendor of his ancestral +halls,—all these thoughts mingled with the idea of his union with Miss +Chaworth, and made his heart beat with hope. If there were excess in +such hope,—if there were illusion,—the fault lies with the relatives +of the young lady and herself, rather than with him. Generosity was on +his side alone, because he alone had a right to feel rancor.</p> + +<p>"She jilted me," says he in prose, and in verse we read,—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"She knew she was by him beloved,—she knew,<br /> +For quickly comes such knowledge, that his heart<br /> +Was darken'd with her shadow, and she saw<br /> +That he was wretched."<br /> +</div> + +<p>If, then, it was natural for a girl to prefer a young man of more +suitable age, handsome and fashionable, to a boy whose features were yet +undeveloped, and whom she treated as a child and a brother; was it quite +as natural to flatter him,—load him with caresses,—with those gifts +likely to foster illusion and hope,—pledges considered as love tokens? +Was it natural that in order to justify certain coquetries to her +affianced, she should make use of insulting expressions with regard to +young Byron? But, on the other hand, would it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401] </a></span> not have been very +natural for him, having heard them, to feel a little rancor against her? +Surely she was guilty if she had spoken in jest, and more guilty still +if she were in earnest.</p> + +<p>And yet what was his conduct? In his poem called the "Dream," where he +sings this romance of his boyhood, he tells us how he quitted Annesley, +after having learned that Miss Chaworth was engaged to Mr. Musters:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"He rose, and with a cold and gentle grasp<br /> +He took her hand; a moment o'er his face<br /> +A tablet of unutterable thoughts<br /> +Was traced, and then it faded, as it came;<br /> +He dropped the hand he held, and with slow steps<br /> +Retired, but not as bidding her adieu,<br /> +For they did part with mutual smiles; he pass'd<br /> +From out the massy gate of that old hall,<br /> +And mounting on his steed he went his way;<br /> +And ne'er repass'd that hoary threshold more."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Then he jumped upon his horse, intending to gallop over the distance +separating Annesley from Newstead. But when he arrived at the last hill +overlooking Annesley, he stopped his horse, and cast a glance of mingled +sorrow and tenderness at what he left behind,—the groves, the old +house, the lovely one inhabiting there. But then the thought that she +could never be his dispelled his reverie, and putting spurs to his horse +he set off anew, as if rapid motion could drown reflection. However, +instead of the reflections he could not succeed in drowning, <i>he cast +away all rancor</i>.</p> + +<p>When he alludes to her in his early poems it is always with tenderness +and respect.<a name="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> He contents himself with calling her once, <i>deceitful +girl</i>, and another time, <i>a false fair face</i>.</p> + +<p>After an interval of some years, when the boy had become a fine young +man, before setting out for the East, he accepted the proffered +hospitality of Annesley.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402] </a></span></p> + +<p>He never ceased to welcome Musters at Newstead, and, lest he should +disturb the peace of Mrs. Musters, he had even concealed his agitation +on kissing his rival's child. Heretofore she had only seen the boy or +youth, now she beheld the young man whose genius and personal +attractions lent to each other light and charm.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that the bright star of Annesley began to pale. +On her brow, formerly so gay, a veil of sadness was overspread. It +seemed as if the gardens had lost their charm for her; as if the +spreading foliage of Annesley had become dark for her. What caused this +change? On seeing again the companion of her childhood, did she contrast +her now solitary walks with those of earlier days in his beautiful park, +where beside her was the youth who would fain have kissed the ground on +which she trod? The sound of that hunting horn, which anon made her +thrill with joy, when it announced the approach of her handsome +betrothed, and awakened all the illusions of love,—had it now become to +her more discordant and painful by its contrast with the harmonious +voice and sweet smile of him whom she had just seen again so changed to +his advantage?</p> + +<p>It was during his travels in the East that Lord Byron heard of this +mysterious melancholy. Given the circumstances, such a report would not +have displeased, even if it had not pleased, vulgar, rancorous souls. +But it produced quite a contrary effect on him. The feeling of his own +worth, doubtless, must and ought to have brought certain ideas to his +mind; but they saddened his generous nature, and he experienced a desire +to drive them away by saying, "Has she not the husband of her choice, +and lovely children to caress her?"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"What could her grief be?—she had all she loved.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +What could her grief be?—she had loved him not,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +Nor could he be a part of that which prey'd<br /> +Upon her mind—a spectre of the past."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Lord Byron returned from his travels, and by degrees, as he rose in the +admiration of England, the melancholy observable in Mrs. Musters +deepened.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403] </a></span></p><p>One day she felt such a longing to see again the companion of her +childhood, that she asked for an interview. Could he not desire the +meeting? But ought he to grant it? He had had the courage to meet her +again when he thought her happy, when sorrow for the past belonged to +him alone, when she appeared neither to understand nor to share it. But +would his heart be equally strong—would it not yield on seeing her +unhappy?<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> And yet, what could he then do for her happiness? With the +same generosity that induced him always to sacrifice his pleasure to the +happiness of others, he listened to his reason, his heart, and the +prudent counsels of his sister; he refrained from an interview which +could only augment the troubles of that devastated soul, soon to become +the "<i>queen of a fantastic kingdom</i>" in reason's night. But he ever +preserved a tender remembrance of Miss Chaworth, only forgetting the +wrong she had done him.<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a></p> + +<p>Lord Byron's conduct had been no less generous toward Mr. Musters, his +triumphant rival in the affections of Miss Chaworth. Mr. Musters, though +several years older than Lord Byron, was, nevertheless, among his early +companions. The parents of this young man resided at their country-seat, +called Colwich, a few miles distant from Newstead, and Lord Byron often +accepted their hospitality. One day the two youths were bathing in the +Trent (a river which runs through the grounds of Colwich), when Mr. +Musters perceived a ring among Lord Byron's clothes, left on the bank. +To see and take possession of it was the affair of a moment. He had +recognized it as having belonged to Miss Chaworth. Lord Byron claimed +it, but Musters would not restore the ring. High words were exchanged. +On returning to the house, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404] </a></span>Musters jumped on a horse and galloped off +to ask an explanation from Miss Chaworth, who, being forced to confess +that Lord Byron wore the ring with her consent, felt obliged to make +amends to Musters by promising to declare immediately her engagement +with him. Proud of his success, he returned home and acquainted Lord +Byron with Miss Chaworth's determination. Dinner was announced. The +family sat down, and soon perceived there was something amiss between +the two friends, whose gloomy silence spoke more eloquently than words. +Before the end of dinner Lord Byron left the table, unable to endure the +provocations of his rival.</p> + +<p>The parents of Musters, though completely ignorant of what had caused +the quarrel, were uneasy for the consequences. After dinner bitter words +were again exchanged between the two young men, and Musters used such +coarse, insolent language that Lord Byron could ill restrain his +indignation. Anger flashing from his eyes expressed itself as warmly in +words. In this frame of mind he retired to his room, and remained long +shut up there, while Musters believed he was preparing to leave Colwich +that very night. But the magnanimous youth, on reflection, understood +that at fifteen he ought not to pretend to carry off the fair prize of +seventeen from a man nine years his senior; and that it was not generous +to grieve his hosts and hurt the reputation of the lady he loved. +Accordingly, he suppressed his sorrow, his pride, his anger. Instead of +returning to Newstead, he made his appearance as usual in the +drawing-room, and to the astonishment of his rival, excused himself for +having shown anger, and thus failed in politeness to his hosts. +Candidly, and with regret, he acknowledged that the excess of his +feelings had caused the outburst. From that day forth he gave up all +pretensions to Miss Chaworth's love, and, forgiving them both with equal +magnanimity, he even continued inviting his rival to Newstead. "But," +said he, "now my heart would hate him if he loved her not."</p> + +<p>On declaring to Moore, in a letter written from Pisa, that he would +still forgive fresh wrongs, Lord Byron made this avowal:—"The truth is, +I can not keep up resentment, however violent may be its explosion."</p> + +<p>At all periods of his life, he remained the young man of 1814, saying +that he could not go to rest with anger at his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405] </a></span> heart. In Greece, a few +weeks before his glorious death, he gave another proof of it by his +conduct toward Colonel Stanhope (afterward Lord Harrington). They had +persuaded Lord Byron that the colonel was very jealous of his influence, +and of the enthusiasm manifested for him. True or not, Lord Byron could +not but believe it. The colonel arrived in Greece (sent by the London +committee), for the purpose, it was said, of uniting with Lord Byron, +and acting jointly in favor of Greek independence; but in reality, it +would have seemed as if he came only to counteract what Byron wished. +Their ideas on matters of administration and on political economy, their +principles with regard to institutions and means of government, were +totally opposed. Bentham was the colonel's idol and model, while Lord +Byron particularly disliked the moral and social consequences flowing +from Bentham's doctrines. Ever straightforward and practical, Lord Byron +thought the Greeks ought to begin by gaining their independence, <i>and +that they had better be taught to read before they were made to buy +books, and the liberty of the press were given them</i>. Good and +honorable, but fond of systems, the colonel always wished to begin by +the end. Thence resulted long discussions between them, which produced +hours of ennui for Lord Byron, and many annoyances, most prejudicial to +his health, which was then very delicate. One evening, among others, the +colonel grew so excited, that he told him he believed him to be a friend +of the Turks. Lord Byron only answered: "Judge me by my actions." Both +appeared angry; the colonel got up to leave. Lord Byron, who was the +offended party, instead of bearing rancor, rose also, and, going +straight to the colonel, said: "Give me your honest hand, and +good-night." The night would not have passed tranquilly for Lord Byron +without this reconciliation.</p> + +<p>Among numerous proofs of this generous spirit of forgiveness,—so +numerous that choice is difficult—we shall select his behavior toward a +certain Mr. Scott, who, at the time of his separation, had attacked him +in a savage, cruel manner,—not only unjustly, but even without any +provocation.</p> + +<p>"I beg to call particular attention," says Moore, "to the extract about +to follow.</p> + +<p>"Those who at all remember the peculiar bitterness and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406] </a></span> violence, with +which Mr. Scott had assailed Lord Byron, at a crisis when both his heart +and fame were most vulnerable, will, if I am not mistaken, feel a thrill +of pleasurable admiration, in reading these sentences, such as they were +penned by Lord Byron, for his own expressions can alone convey any +adequate notion of the proud, generous pleasure that must have been felt +in writing them:—</p> + +<p>"'Poor Scott is no more! In the exercise of his vocation, he contrived, +at last, to make himself the subject of a coroner's inquest. But he died +like a brave man, and he lived an able one. I knew him personally, +though slightly; although several years my senior, we had been +school-fellows together, at the grammar-school of Aberdeen. He did not +behave to me quite handsomely, in his capacity of editor, a few years +ago, but he was under no obligation to behave otherwise. <i>The moment was +too tempting for many friends, and for all enemies.</i> At a time when all +my relations (save one) fell from me, like leaves from the tree in +autumn winds, and my few friends became still fewer,—when the whole +periodical press (I mean the daily and weekly, not the <i>literary</i>, +press) was let loose against me, in every shape of reproach, with the +two strange exceptions (from their usual opposition) of, "The Courier" +and "The Examiner,"—the paper of which Scott had the direction was +neither the last nor the least vituperative. Two years ago, I met him at +Venice, when he was bowed in grief, by the loss of his son, and had +known, by experience, the bitterness of domestic privation. He was then +earnest with me to return to England, and on my telling him, with a +smile, that he was once of a different opinion, he replied to me, "<i>that +he, and others, had been greatly misled; and that some pains, and rather +extraordinary means, had been taken to excite them</i>." Scott is no more, +but there are more than one living who were present at this dialogue. He +was a man of very considerable talents and of great acquirements. He had +made his way, as a literary character, with high success, and in a few +years. Poor fellow! I recollect his joy, at some appointment, which he +had obtained, or was to obtain, through Sir James Mackintosh, and which +prevented the further extension (unless by a rapid run to Rome) of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407] </a></span>his +travels in Italy. I little thought to what it would conduct him. <i>Peace +be with him! and may all such other faults as are inevitable to humanity +be as readily forgiven him as the little injury which he had done to one +who respected his talents and regrets his loss.</i></p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span>'"</p> + +<p>Nor did his magnanimity stop here. After Scott's death, a subscription +for his widow was got up, and Lord Byron was requested to contribute ten +pounds.</p> + +<p>"You may make my subscription for Mr. Scott's widow thirty pounds, +instead of the proposed ten," answered he; "but do not put down <i>my +name</i>. As I mentioned him in the pamphlet, it would look indelicate."</p> + +<p>But this refined generosity was only one of the forms which Lord Byron's +kindliness took. To act thus, was a necessity for this privileged +nature, that could not endure to hate, and loved to pardon. Still, his +generosity had not yet entered on the road of great sacrifices. It had +not yet reached the highest degree of power over self. It did attain to +that, when it led him to comprise in one general pardon the so-called +friends who had abandoned him in his hour of sacrifice, and those bitter +enemies who knew no reconciliation, <i>when he forgave Lady Byron</i>. Then +his generosity merited the name of virtue.</p> + +<p>Pusillanimity, which binds with an invisible chain the hearts and +tongues of vulgar souls, in unreal exacting society, had carried away +some; jealousy of his superiority had rendered others ferocious; and an +absolute moral monstrosity—an anomaly in the history of types of female +hideousness—had succeeded in showing itself in the light of +magnanimity. But false as was this high quality in Lady Byron, so did it +shine out in him true and admirable. The position in which Lady Byron +had placed him, and where she continued to keep him by her harshness, +silence, and strange refusals, was one of those which cause such +suffering, that the highest degree of self-control seldom suffices to +quiet the promptings of human weakness, and to cause persons of even +slight sensibility to preserve moderation. Yet, with his sensibility and +the knowledge of his worth, how did he act?—what did he say? I will not +speak of his "Farewell," of the care he took to shield her from blame by +throwing it on others, by taking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408] </a></span> much too large a share to himself, +when in reality his sole fault lay in having married her; because it +might be objected that, when he acted thus, he had <i>not given up the +wish of reunion</i>.</p> + +<p>But at Venice, and more especially at Ravenna and Pisa, this project +certainly had ceased to exist; the measure of insult was filled up to +overflowing. And yet, in one of those days of exasperation which letters +from London never failed to produce, and precisely when he was writing +pages on Lady Byron that could scarcely be complimentary, he learned +that she had been taken ill. His anger and his pen both fell +simultaneously, and he hastened to throw into the fire what he had +written. Another time he was told that Lady Byron lived in constant +dread of having Ada forcibly taken from her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, "I might claim her in Chancery, without having +recourse to any other means; but I would rather be unhappy myself than +make Lady Byron so."</p> + +<p>And he said this, well knowing how his name was kept from his daughter, +like a forbidden thing; and that his picture was hidden from her sight +by a curtain.</p> + +<p>One day at Rome, while he was walking amid the ruins of the Forum, +treading upon those mighty relics that, to him, breathed language and +well-nigh sentiments, that seemed like some magic temple of the past, +Lord Byron traced back, in thought, his own career. The meannesses of +which he had been, and still was, the victim rose up to view. He allowed +his thoughts to wander amid the saddest memories. All the wounds of his +still bleeding heart opened afresh. The serenity of the starry sky, the +silence of that solemn hour, the ideas of order, peace, and justice, +which such a scene ever awakens, contrasted strangely with the material +devastation around worked by time. The natural effect of a grand +spectacle like this, is to render sadder still those moral ruins +accumulated within by the wickedness of man.</p> + +<p>Then did his past, so recent still, rise up before him in all its +bitterness. And, taking earth and heaven to witness, he exclaimed:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Have I not had to wrestle with my lot?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have I not suffered things to be forgiven?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have I not had my brain sear'd, my heart riven,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, Life's life lied away?</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409] </a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And only not to desperation driven,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because not altogether of such clay</span><br /> +As rots into the souls of those whom I survey.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have I not seen what human things could do?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the loud roar of foaming calumny</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the small whisper of the as paltry few,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And subtler venom of the reptile crew,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Janus glance of whose significant eye,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Learning to lie with silence, would</i> <span class="smcap">seem</span> <i>true,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh,</i></span><br /> +<i>Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy</i>."<br /> +</div> + +<p>His spirit stirred with excitement, he invoked the aid of the divinity +whose shrine these Roman remains appeared to be:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"O Time! the beautifier of the dead,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adorner of the ruin, comforter</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And only healer when the heart hath bled;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Time! the corrector where our judgments err,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The test of truth, love—sole philosopher,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all beside are sophists—from thy thrift,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which never loses though it doth defer—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift</span><br /> +My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And what was this gift? Was it vengeance? No! It was the <i>repentance</i> of +those who had done and were still doing him wrong; that was the prayer +he sent up to heaven, so as not to have worn in vain this iron in his +soul, and so that, when his earthly life should cease, his spirit,—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"<i>Like the remember'd tone of a mute lyre,<br /> +Shall on their soften'd spirits sink, and move,<br /> +In hearts all rocky now, the late remorse of love.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a><br /> +</div> + +<p>Arrived before the temple of Nemesis,—that dread divinity who has never +left unpunished human injustice,—Lord Byron evokes her thus:—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Dost thou not hear my heart?—Awake! thou shalt, and must."<br /> +</p> + +<p>He feels that the guilty will not escape the vengeance of the goddess, +since it is <i>inevitable</i>; but, as to him, he will not wreak it. Nemesis +shall watch; he will sleep. <i>He reserves to himself, however, one +revenge. Which? Ever the same:—Forgiveness!</i></p> + +<p class="center"> +"That curse shall be forgiveness."<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410] </a></span></p> + +<p>Now, we have seen that his generosity did not recoil from any sacrifice +of fortune, repose, affection; we have seen it strong against all +privations, all instincts, all interests; in short, we have looked at it +under all the aspects that constitute great beauty of soul. There +remains only one degree more for him to attain—heroism. But the +constant exercise of generosity of soul, in inferior degrees, will give +him power to reach that sublime height, and, summing up all in one, +arrive at <i>the crowning sacrifice of his life</i>.</p> + +<p>Already more than once, in Italy, and especially in Romagna, when that +peninsula was preparing a grand struggle for independence, Lord Byron +had shown himself ready to make any sacrifice, to aid in throwing off +Austrian chains. But, owing to subsequent events, his extreme +devotedness could not then go beyond the offer made. Two years later it +was accepted; an enslaved nation, eager for redemption, asked Lord +Byron's assistance toward regaining its liberty. In this sacrifice on +his part, no single feature of greatness is wanting. Lord Byron would +have been great, had he sacrificed himself for his country; but how much +greater was he in sacrificing himself for a foreign nation, for the +general cause of humanity? He would still have remained great, had he +been led into this noble sacrifice by his own enthusiasm, by his +illusions, by personal hopes. But no illusion, no enthusiasm, impelled +him toward Greece; naught save the satisfaction caused in a noble mind +by the performance of a great action. He did not even hope to escape +ingratitude or to silence calumny; for, although so young, he had +already acquired the experience of mature years. He knew Greece, and was +well aware what he should find there, in exchange for his repose and for +all dear to him in this world. We know what sadness overwhelmed his soul +during the last period of his sojourn at Genoa. The struggles he had +with his own heart may be imagined, when we reflect, that despite his +self-control, he was more than once surprised with tears in his eyes.</p> + +<p>When hardly out of port from Genoa, a tempest cast him back. He landed, +and resolved on visiting the abode he had left with such anguish the day +before. While climbing the hill of Albano, the darkest presentiments +took possession of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411] </a></span> his soul. "Where shall we be this day next year?" +said he to Count Gamba, who was walking by his side. Alas! we know that +precisely that day next year, his mortal remains were carried through +the streets of London, on their way to repose with his ancestors, near +Newstead. His sorrow only increased on arriving at the palace. His +friends were gone; all within that dwelling was silent, deserted, +solitary. He asked to be left alone; and then shut himself up in his +apartments, remaining there for several hours. What was his occupation? +What were his thoughts? Through what strange agony did he pass? Who +shall tell us (since he concealed it), of that last struggle between the +Man and the Hero?</p> + +<p>The sadnesses of great souls are <i>unspeakable</i>, almost <i>superhuman</i>. +They are beyond the scales where we would weigh them. But we know that +he understood and tasted the bitterness of this chalice,<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> without +drawing back, without failing to drain it to the last.</p> + +<p>Night came, and behold him once more on board the vessel. The tempest +roared again, then ceased; but the storm within his soul did not cease. +Only when a tear sometimes threatened betrayal, did he hasten to the +privacy of his cabin.</p> + +<p>We will not give here the narrative of this voyage. These pages, we +again repeat, are not a biography, but the picture of a soul.</p> + +<p>On arriving at the Ionian Islands, he soon understood that his +sacrifice, though not beyond what circumstances demanded, certainly far +transcended any hope that could exist of regenerating this fallen race, +and constituting a nation worthy to bear the glorious name of Greece. +But it mattered not: he had given his word, and he was resolved to +remain in the country. He even quitted the asylum afforded by the Ionian +Islands, and determined to encounter all dangers, the better to +accomplish his mission.</p> + +<p>Then he went to Missolonghi. The privations he underwent there, the +moral and physical fatigue, the effluvia from the adjoining marshes, and +the mode of life he was forced to lead, all combined to affect his +naturally good health. He was entreated to leave this unhealthy place, +and told that his life depended on it. He felt it and knew it. Already<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412] </a></span> +he perceived the spectre of the future, and, at the same time, the image +of his beloved Italy floated before his eyes,—all that he had left, and +would still find there; he represented to himself the existence he might +lead there, quiet and happy, surrounded with love and respect. Still so +young, handsome, rich, and almost adored, for whom could life have more +value? But, if he left, what would become of Greece? His presence was +worth an army to that unhappy country. So, then, he would not desert his +post; <i>he resolved to remain, come what might</i>. "<i>No, Tita; no, we will +not return to Italy</i>," said he sadly to his faithful Venetian follower a +few days before he fell ill. <i>He did remain, and he died.</i></p> + +<p>By this action, in which he overcame himself, Lord Byron gave one of +those rare examples of self-immolation, of virtue, and heroism, which, +says a noble mind of our day,<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> "afford real consolation to the soul, +and reflect the greatest honor on the human race."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> +</p> +<p> +"Their praise is hymn'd by loftier hearts than mine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet one I would select from that proud throng,</span><br /> +Partly because they blend me with his line,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And partly that I did his sire some wrong."</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> See Medwin.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> + +</p><p> +"In the shade of her bower, I remember the hour<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She rewarded those vows with a Tear.</span><br /> +</p><p> +By another possest, may she live ever blest!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her name still my heart must revere;</span><br /> +With a sigh I resign what I once thought was mine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And forgive her deceit with a Tear."</span><br /> +</p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">"<i>The Tear</i>" (October, 1806).</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> She had been obliged to separate from her husband, who +returned her sacrifices by bad and even brutal treatment.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> +</p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">"Oh! she was changed</span><br /> +As by the sickness of the soul; her mind<br /> +Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes<br /> +They had not their own lustre, but the look<br /> +Which is not of the earth; she was become<br /> +The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts<br /> +Were combinations of disjointed things;<br /> +And forms impalpable and unperceived<br /> +Of others' sight familiar were to hers.<br /> +And this the world calls frenzy."<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> "Childe Harold," canto iv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> M. Janet.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>FAULTS OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>After having shown the virtues Lord Byron possessed, it might seem +useless to inquire whether he had not the faults whose absence they +prove. Still, however, it is well to look at the subject from another +point of view, and to offer, so to say, counter-proof. For, in judging +him, all rules have been disregarded, not only those of justice and +equity, but likewise those of logic. And, as it has been variously +asserted of him, that he was constant and inconstant, firm and fickle, +guided by principle, yet giving way to every impulse; that he was both +chaste and profligate, a sensual man and an anchorite; calumny alone can +not be accused of all these contradictions. We must then seek out +conscientiously whether there were not other causes for this +<i>inconsistency</i>, so as to return back within due bounds, and bring +contradiction in accord with truth. It is, of course, beyond dispute +that the first cause of the unjust verdicts passed upon him lay in the +bad passions stirred up by his success, by the independent language he +used, and his contempt for a thousand national prejudices. Nevertheless, +as the degree of injustice dealt out toward him was quite extraordinary, +it may be asked whether some real defects did not lend specious reason +to his enemies, and thus we are forced to confess that he had one great +fault, which did powerfully aid their wickedness; it consisted in a +species of <i>cruelty</i> toward himself, <i>a positive necessity of +calumniating himself</i>.</p> + +<p>Although the origin of this fault or defect must have been principally +in the greatness of his soul, it certainly had other secondary and +lesser causes, and, in common with many other qualities, it was fatal to +his happiness; for men accustomed to exaggerate their own virtues only +too readily believed him. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414] </a></span>This mode of doing harm to and <i>persecuting</i> +himself, of casting shadows over his brilliant destiny, was so strange +and so real, that it is necessary to show to what extent he did it, by +collecting some of the numerous testimonies given among those who knew +him, before we bring out the real cause of his fault, as well as the +effect it had on his happiness and his reputation.</p> + +<p>In no hands could his character have been less safe than his own, nor +any greater wrong offered to his memory than the substitution of what he +affected to be, for what he was.</p> + +<p>While yet a student at Cambridge, he wrote a letter to Miss Pigott, full +of gayety and fun, giving as an excuse for his silence the dissipated +life he was leading, and which he calls <i>a wretched chaos of noise and +drunkenness, doing nothing but hunt, drink Burgundy, play, intrigue, +libertinize</i>. Then he exclaims:—</p> + +<p>"What misery to have nothing else to do but make love and verses, and +create enemies for one's self."</p> + +<p>But while avowing this misery, he adds that he has <i>just written 214 +pages of prose and 1200 verses</i>.</p> + +<p>And Moore remarks, in a note annexed to this curious letter:—</p> + +<p>"We observe here, as in other parts of his early letters, that sort of +display and boast of <i>rakishness</i> which is but too common a folly at +this period of life, when the young aspirant to manhood persuades +himself that to be profligate is to be manly. Unluckily, this boyish +desire to be thought worse than he really was remained with Lord Byron, +as did some other failings and foibles, long after the period when, with +others, they are past and forgotten; and his mind, indeed, was but +beginning to outgrow them when he was snatched away."</p> + +<p>When Moore speaks of the letter in which Lord Byron, replying to the +praise given by Mr. Dallas, says he did not merit it, and depreciates +himself morally in every possible way, Moore adds:—</p> + +<p>"Here again, however, we should recollect there must be a considerable +share of allowance for the <i>usual tendency to make the most and the +worst of his own obliquities</i>. There occurs, indeed, in his first letter +to Mr. Dallas, an account of this strange ambition, the <i>very reverse</i>, +it must be allowed, of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415] </a></span>hypocrisy—which led him to court rather than +avoid the reputation of profligacy, and to put, at all times, the worst +face on his own character and conduct."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dallas, writing for the first time to Lord Byron after having read +his early poems, paid him some compliments on the moral beauties and +charitable sentiments contained in his verses, remarking that they +recalled another noble author, who was not only a poet, an orator, and a +distinguished historian, but one of the most vigorous reasoners in +England on the truths of that religion of which forgiveness forms the +ruling principle, viz., the good and great Lord Lyttelton. Lord Byron +answered, depreciating himself in a literary sense, and calumniating +himself morally, by the assertion that he resembled Lord Lyttelton's +son—a bad, though talented man—rather than the great author.</p> + +<p>Dallas had the good sense to take this appreciation for what it was +worth, and asked permission to pay the young nobleman a visit. Lord +Byron answered politely that he should be happy to make his +acquaintance, but continued to paint himself, especially as regarded his +opinions, in the most unfavorable colors. Moore gives the whole of this +letter, and then adds:—</p> + +<p>"It must be recollected, before we attach any particular importance to +the details of his creed, that in addition to the temptation—never +easily resisted by him—of displaying his wit, at the expense of his +character, he was here addressing a person who, though, no doubt, well +meaning, was evidently one of those <i>officious self-satisfied advisers</i> +whom it was the delight of Lord Byron, at all times, to <i>astonish</i> and +<i>mystify</i>.</p> + +<p>"The tricks which, when a boy, he played upon the Nottingham quack, +Lavander, were but the first of a long series, with which, through life, +he amused himself, at the expense of all the numerous quacks whom his +celebrity and sociability drew around him."</p> + +<p>In the first satire he gave to the world, and which attracted sympathy +for his talent as well as for the justice of his cause, the horror he +entertained of hypocrisy already made him speak against himself:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"E'en I—least thinking of a thoughtless throng,<br /> +Just skill'd to know the right and choose the wrong."<br /> +</div> + +<p>After having quoted an early poem of Lord Byron, written<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416] </a></span> in an hour of +great depression, and which would seem, inspired by momentary madness, +Moore makes the following declaration:—</p> + +<p>"These concluding lines are of a nature, it must be owned, to awaken +more of horror than of interest, were we not prepared, by so many +instances of his exaggeration in this respect, not to be startled at any +lengths to which the spirit of <i>self-libelling</i> would carry him. It +seemed as if, with the power of painting fierce and gloomy personages, +he had also the ambition to be himself the dark 'sublime he drew,' and +that, in his fondness for the delineation of heroic crime, he endeavored +to fancy, where he could not find in his own character, fit subjects for +his pencil."</p> + +<p>Moore, mentioning another article in his memoranda, where Lord Byron +accuses himself of irritability of temperament in his early youth, +follows up with this reflection:—</p> + +<p>"In all his portraits of himself, the pencil he uses is so dark that the +picture of his temperament and his self-attempts, covering as they do +with <i>a dark shadow the shade itself</i>, must be taken with large +allowance for exaggeration."</p> + +<p>In another passage of his work, Moore further says:—</p> + +<p>"To the perverse fancy he had for falsifying his own character, and even +imputing to himself faults the most alien to his nature, I have already +frequently adverted. I had another striking instance of it one day at La +Mira."</p> + +<p>Moore then relates that, on leaving Venice, he went to La Mira to bid +Lord Byron farewell. Passing through the hall, he saw the little +Allegra, who had just returned from a walk. Moore made some remark on +the beauty of the child, and Byron answered, "Have you any notion—but I +suppose you have—of what they call the parental feeling? For myself, I +have not the least." And yet, when that child died, in a year or two +afterward, he who had uttered this artificial speech was so overwhelmed +by the event, that those who were about him at the time actually +trembled for his reason.<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a></p> + +<p>Colonel Stanhope, afterward Lord Harrington, who knew Lord Byron in +Greece, shortly before his death, says:—</p> + +<p>"Most men affect a virtuous character; Lord Byron's ambition, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417] </a></span>on the +contrary, seemed to be to make the world believe that he was a sort of +<i>Satan</i>, though impelled by high sentiments to accomplish great actions. +<i>Happily for his reputation, he possessed another quality that unmasked +him completely: he was the most open and most sincere of men, and his +nature, inclined to good, ever swayed all his actions.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a></p> + +<p>Mr. Finlay, who knew Lord Byron about the same time, says <i>that not only +he calumniated himself, but that he hid his best sentiments</i>.</p> + +<p>Speaking of the simplicity of his manners, and his repugnance for all +<i>emphasis</i>:—</p> + +<p>"I have always observed," continues Mr. Finlay, "that he adopted a very +simple and even monotonous tone, when he had to say any thing not quite +in the ordinary style of conversation. Whenever he had begun a sentence +which showed that the subject interested him, and which contained +sublime thought, he would check himself suddenly, and come to an end +without concluding, either with a smile of indifference or in a careless +tone. I thought he had adopted this mode <i>to hide his real sentiments +when he feared lest his tongue should be carried away by his heart</i>; and +often he did so evidently to hide the author or rather the poet. But in +satire or clever conversation his genius took full flight."<a name="FNanchor_100_100" id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a></p> + +<p>And Stanhope further adds:—</p> + +<p>"I also have observed that Lord Byron acted in this way. He often liked +to hide the noble sentiments that filled his soul, and even tried to +turn them into ridicule."<a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a></p> + +<p>This was only too true. The spirit of repartee and fun often made him +display his intellectual faculties at the expense of his moral nature +and his truest sentiments.</p> + +<p>Moore says that when Lord Byron went to Ravenna to see Countess G—— +again, he wrote to Hoppner, who looked after his affairs, in such a +light vein of pleasantry, that it would have been difficult for any one +not knowing him thoroughly to conceive the possibility of his expressing +himself thus, while under the influence of a passion so sincere:—</p> + +<p>"But such is ever the wantonness of the mocking spirit, from which +nothing—not even love—remains sacred; and which at last, for want of +other food, turns upon self. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418] </a></span>same horror, too, of hypocrisy that +led Lord Byron to exaggerate his own errors led him also to disguise, +under a seemingly heartless ridicule, all those natural and kindly +qualities by which they were redeemed."</p> + +<p>And by way of contrast with the strange lightness of his letter to +Hoppner, as well as to do justice to the reality of his passion, Moore +then quotes the whole of those beautiful stanzas, called "The Po," which +Lord Byron wrote while crossing that river on his way from Venice to +Ravenna.<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a></p> + +<p>We might multiply quotations, in order to prove that all those who knew +him have more or less remarked this phenomenon. But no one has well +determined its principal cause; or else it has been too much confounded +with the strange caprices he showed, especially in early youth; for +subsequently, says Moore, "<i>when he saw that the world gravely believed +the opinion he had given of himself, he refused any longer to echo it</i>."</p> + +<p>There is certainly truth in the judgment passed by Moore and others. It +can not be denied that, when as a boy, he boasted of his dissipated life +at the University, the chief reason of it lay in the folly common to +that period of life, which impels human beings while yet children to +seek to appear like men by aping the vices of riper years. It can not be +denied, either, that the pleasure of mystifying suggested his answer to +Dallas; that an exaggerated horror of hypocrisy taught his pen a +thousand censures of himself beginning with his first satire; that a +sort of over-excitement and reaction of imagination gave him, at times, +the strange ambition of appearing to be one of those dark, proud heroes +he loved to paint for the sake of effect. Moreover, we must not forget +that witty turn of mind which his extraordinary perception of the +ridiculous, and his facility for seeing the two sides of things, often +made him to display at the expense of his better nature, by seeming to +mock his truest sentiments, as when he wrote to Hoppner: a psychological +phenomenon, of which the cause has been more particularly sought +elsewhere. Finally, we may also add that he might have believed he was +disarming envy and malice by speaking against himself; and that he was +to a certain extent escaping from the effects of those evil passions by +throwing them something whereon to feed. Who knows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419] </a></span> whether he also did +not—a little through goodness of heart, and greatly through the tactics +that make good politicians complain of the unpleasantnesses attached to +their greatness—ascribe to himself imaginary defects, so as to let some +compassion, under the form of blame, mix with the malice that hemmed him +in on all sides; and whether he did not think it well to make use of +this means, as of a shield, to ward off their blows? This sort of +generous artifice, which I more than once suspected in him, may serve as +long as public favor lasts; but when persecution gets the upper +hand,—which is the case sooner or later with all greatness and all +virtues—when Envy triumphs by means of calumny, she converts into +poison, benefits, virtues, gratitude. Thus, if our hypothesis be +correct, Lord Byron would have been cruelly punished for his weakness in +allowing that to be believed of him which was not true. Still, all we +have observed can only furnish, at best, the secondary and evanescent +causes of the moral phenomenon described, and those who would fain +penetrate the recesses of Lord Byron's soul must search deeper for +explanation. Our idea is, the first cause will be found to lie in some +sentiment that reigned all powerful in his breast. I mean that he placed +<i>his ideal standard too high</i>, and the influence it exercised over him +was manifest <i>even to his last moments</i>.</p> + +<p>In the severe judgments which he has pronounced upon himself in the +first place, on mankind in general, and on some particular individuals, +the ideal model of all the intellectual, moral, and physical beauty +which he found in the depth of his own mind, shone with divine lustre +before his imagination, by the union of faculties imbued with +extraordinary energy.</p> + +<p>We see, by a thousand traits, that his ideal was formed much earlier +than is common with ordinary children. In his first youthful poems it +already displayed itself much developed. Ever attracted toward truth, +his first desire was to seek after that; and the better to do so, he +searched into himself, analyzed what was passing within and without, and +finally proclaimed it without any consideration for himself or others.</p> + +<p>At Harrow we see him leaving off play to go and sit down alone and +meditate on the stone now called <i>Byron's tomb</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420] </a></span></p> + +<p>At Cambridge afterward, despite the dissipation he shared equally with +his comrades, amid games and exercises in which he greatly excelled, we +still find him courting meditation under shady trees. On returning to +his home, the Abbey, when surrounded with the noise and frolic of +boisterous companions, we see him devote himself to study and solitary +reflection; finally, during his travels, and after his return, when all +England was at his feet, we behold him still and ever experiencing that +imperious <i>want</i> of scanning himself, of descending into the depths of +his own heart, interrogating his conscience, and very often of writing +down in his memorandum-books the severe sentences pronounced by that +inflexible judge. And, as he could not put away from sight his divine +model, he came out from these examinations <i>humbled, dissatisfied, +reproaching and punishing himself for having strayed from it</i>. For he +discovered too many terrestrial elements in all human virtues. For +instance, in friendships, though so generous on his side, he found the +satisfaction of a personal want, consequently, an egotistical element; +the same, and much more strongly, with regard to love. He found +something personal in the best instincts, in the passion for glory, in +patriotism, even in the sentiment of veneration, since that is an echo +of our tastes and personal sympathies. That the high standard of his +ideal was the first cause of injustice toward himself, a thousand proofs +might be offered. I will choose some only. We read in his memoranda:—</p> + +<p>"It has lately been in my power to make two men happy. I am delighted at +it, especially as regards the last, for he is excellent. <i>But I wish +there had been a little more sacrifice on my part, and less satisfaction +for my self-love in doing that, because then there would have been more +merit.</i>"</p> + +<p>Such was this great culprit. He actually felt pleasure in doing good! +Another time he was asked to present a petition to Parliament. "I am not +in a humor for this business," writes he in the evening journal, where +he examined his conscience. He was suffering then from grief, caused by +the absence of a person he loved, and he apostrophizes himself in these +terms:—"Had —— been here she would have <i>made</i> me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421] </a></span>do it. <i>There</i> is a +woman who, amid all her fascination, always urged a man to usefulness or +glory. Had she remained, she had been my tutelar genius.</p> + +<p>"Baldwin is very unfortunate; but, poor fellow, 'I can't get out; I +can't get out,' said the starling. <i>Ah! I am as bad as that dog Sterne, +who preferred whining over a dead ass to relieving a living mother. +Villain! hypocrite! slave! sycophant! But I am no better. Here I can not +stimulate myself to a speech for the sake of these unfortunates, and +three words and half a smile of——, had she been here to urge it (and +urge it she infallibly would; at least, she always pressed me on in +senatorial duties, and particularly in the cause of weakness), would +have made me an advocate, if not an orator. Curse on Rochefoucault for +being always right!</i>"</p> + +<p>Another time <i>he also accused himself of selfishness, because he wrote +only for amusement</i>! He was then but twenty-three years of age:—</p> + +<p>"To withdraw myself from myself (<i>oh, that cursed selfishness!</i>) has +ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all; +and publishing is also the continuance of the same object, by the action +it affords to the mind, which else recoils upon itself."</p> + +<p>This hard opinion of man's virtue, formed by many moralists, and +especially by those who see virtue only in pure disinterested +benevolence, was an impulse with Lord Byron rather than the result of +reason; and I much doubt whether this craving for equity and truth were +ever practically combined and harmonized with the faculty of benevolence +in any one else as it was with Lord Byron, for this combination +evidently formed the most striking part of his character. Montaigne +himself,—who, if he did not possess as much innate benevolence, had +nevertheless the faculty, and even felt the want of entering into his +conscience, and examining it, so as to draw forth general +notions,—says, "When I examine myself conscientiously, I find that my +best sort of goodness has a <i>vicious tint</i>."</p> + +<p>And he fears that even Plato, in his <i>brightest virtue</i>, had he analyzed +it well, would have found <i>some human admixture</i>. And then he sums up by +saying, "Man is made up of bits and oddities."<a name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422] </a></span></p> + +<p>But these sincere philosophers are few in number, and their maxims can +never be popular. For men in general experience rather the want of +magnifying than of depreciating themselves, and, instead of taking their +best models from an ideal, they choose them from reality, judge +characters, compare themselves to other men, and, living like other +people, see no guilt in themselves; while Lord Byron, living as they +did, discovered in himself weaknesses, reasons for modesty, regret, +repentance. If he could have done as they did, he would have been +satisfied, and he would either have escaped or vanquished calumny. But +he could not and would not, though conscious of the harm thence +resulting to himself.</p> + +<p>"You censure my life, Harness. When I compare myself with these men, my +elders and my betters, I really begin to conceive myself a monument of +prudence,—a walking statue, without feeling or failing; and yet the +world in general has given me a proud pre-eminence over them in +profligacy. Yet I like the men, and, God knows, ought not to condemn +their aberrations; but I own I feel provoked when they dignify all this +by the name of love. Romantic attachments for things marketable for a +dollar!"</p> + +<p>One of his biographers pretends that he rendered himself justice another +time, and represents him as saying, speaking of M——:</p> + +<p>"See how well he has got on in the world! He is just as little inclined +to commit a bad action as incapable of doing a good one; fear keeps him +from the former, and wickedness from the latter. The difference between +him and me is that I attack a great many people, and truly, with one or +two exceptions (and note that they are persons of my own sex), I do not +hate one; while he says no harm of any one, but hates a great many, if +not every body. Fancy, then, how amusing it would be to see him in the +palace of Truth, when he would be thinking he was making the sweetest +compliments, while all the time he would be giving vent to the +accumulated spite and rancor of years, and then to see the person he had +flattered so long listen to his real sentiments for the first time. Oh! +that would truly be a comic sight. As to me, I should appear to great +advantage in the palace of Truth, for while I should be thinking to vex +friends and enemies with harsh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423] </a></span> speeches, I should be saying pretty +things on the contrary; for at bottom, <i>I have no malice or +ill-nature,—at least, not of that kind which lasts more than a +moment</i>."</p> + +<p>"Never," adds the biographer, "was a truer observation made. Lord +Byron's nature is <i>very fine</i>, despite all the bad weeds that might have +attempted to spring up in it; and I am convinced that it is the +excellence of the poet, or rather the effect of such excellence, which +has caused the faults of the man.</p> + +<p>"The severity of censure lavished on the man has increased in proportion +to the admiration excited by the poet, and often with the greatest +injustice. The world offered up incense to the poet, while heaping ashes +on the head of the man. He was indignant at such usage, and wounded +pride avenged itself by painting himself in the darkest colors, as if to +give a deeper hue than even his enemies had done; all the time forcing +them to admiration for his genius, as boundless as was their +disapprobation of his supposed character."<a name="FNanchor_104_104" id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></p> + +<p>Is this conversation real or imaginary? Doubt is allowable; but, however +it may be, the reflections of the biographer in this case are too +sensible and too true for us not to quote them with pleasure.</p> + +<p>In concluding these remarks, which prove how high was the ideal type +that impelled Lord Byron to be unjust to himself, I will further +observe, that it was the exaggeration of his great characteristic +faculties which made him fail in some little virtue (such as prudence, +when it has its source <i>solely in our personal interest</i>). For it was +only to this degree, and from this point of view, that Lord Byron lacked +it. And it appears singular that his great mind should not have made him +see, in this very craving after self-examination, caused by his +inclination for truth; and in that extraordinary susceptibility of +conscience which lead to self-reproach for egotism, only because he +<i>felt pleasure in exercising beneficence and that it did not contain +enough sacrifice</i>; it is singular, I say, that this same spirit of +equity did not make him see how he shone in the only two faculties that +can have no alloy of egotism, and which were very evidently the most +<i>striking qualities of his character</i>. But he was, with regard to +himself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424] </a></span> like the torch which, lighting up distant objects, leaves +those near it in obscurity. Lord Byron did not know himself; he had by +no means overcome that difficulty which the oracles of Greece pronounced +<i>the greatest</i>. Only he was sometimes conscious of it. In his memoranda, +written at Ravenna, in 1821, after having said that he does not think +the world judges him well, he adds:—</p> + +<p>"I have seen myself compared, personally or poetically, in English, +French, German as (interpreted to me), Italian and Portuguese, within +these nine years, to Rousseau, Goethe, Young, Aretin, Timon of Athens, +Dante, Petrarch, an Alabaster Vase lighted up within, Satan, Shakspeare, +Bonaparte, Tiberius, Æschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Harlequin the +clown, Sternhold and Hopkins, to the Phantasmagoria, to Henry the +Eighth, to Chenier, to Mirabeau, to Young, R. Dallas (the schoolboy), to +Michael Angelo, to Raphael, to a <i>petit maître</i>, to Diogenes, to Childe +Harold, to Lara, to the Count in 'Beppo,' to Milton, to Pope, to Dryden, +to Burns, to Savage, to Chatterton, to 'oft have I heard of thee, my +Lord Byron,' in Shakspeare, to Churchill the poet, to Kean the actor, to +Alfieri, etc., etc. The object of so many contradictory comparisons must +probably be like something different from them all; but what <i>that</i> is +is more than I know, or any body else."</p> + +<p>But had he known himself, he would have found that he realized one of +the finest types of character that humanity can offer; for his two +characteristic faculties were, his attraction toward truth and +benevolence. And in ceasing to calumniate himself, he would have +snatched from the hands of the envious and the enemies of truth, the +principal weapon they made use of to defame him.</p> + +<p>When one reflects on all this, one questions with astonishment how it is +that all his biographers should have remained outside of truth. But it +is useless insisting thereupon, for we have given sufficient +answer.<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a></p> + +<p>I will, then, confine myself to remarking here that one characteristic +peculiar to the biographers of great men in general, is the extreme +repugnance they feel toward praising their own subjects. What is the +cause? Do they fear being told they have made a panegyric, passing for +flatterers, appearing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425] </a></span> to get through a task? Do they believe that, in +order to show cleverness, perspicacity, and deep knowledge of the human +heart, it is necessary to put in place of simple truth a sort of malice, +not very intelligible, and often contradictory? All that may well be, +but I believe that what they especially feel is, that if their books +were only written for noble minds, possessing such qualities as only +belong to the minority of the human race, they might run the risk of +being less sought after and less bought. Thus they search for faults +with ardor, just as miners do for diamonds; and when they think they +have discovered a vice in their hero, they look upon it as the "Mogul" +of their book. They make it shine, polish it up, show it in a thousand +lights, bring it out as the striking part of their work,—the chief +quality of their hero, who, unable to defend himself, is handed down, +disfigured, to posterity. Such are the strange perils incurred, as +regards truth and justice, and the wrong done toward the great departed; +and this is why their surviving friends are called on to protest against +the false assertions of biographers. Those who have written on Lord +Byron, unable to find this great "Mogul" (for Lord Byron had no vices), +have all, more or less, sought at least to draw the attention of their +readers to a thousand little weaknesses, mostly devoid of reality. Upon +what basis, indeed, do they rest?—Almost always on Lord Byron's words. +Now we know what account should be made of his testimony when he speaks +against himself. For instance, he has called himself irritable and prone +to anger, and biographers have found it very convenient to paint him +with his own brush. Men never fail to treat those who depreciate +themselves with equal injustice. Nor is this surprising. If it be true +that we are always judged on our faulty side, even though we endeavor to +show the best, what must be the case if our efforts tend only to display +our worst? And besides, why should others give themselves the trouble of +exonerating a man from blame who depreciated himself? As it requires +great discernment, great generosity, and very rare qualities, not to go +beyond truth in self-esteem, biographers have not hesitated to declare +Lord Byron, on his own testimony, <i>very irritable</i>, and even very +passionate; but was he really so? This is a question to be examined.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> Moore's "Life," vol. iv. p. 241.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> Parry, 273.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> Letter from Finlay to Stanhope, Parry, 210.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> Parry, 210.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> Moore, 214, vol. ii. in 4to.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> Montaigne, vol. iii. p. 87.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> "Journal of Conversation," p. 195.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> See chapter on Lord Byron's biographers.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>IRRITABILITY OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>Was Lord Byron irritable? With his poetic temperament, his exquisite and +almost morbid sensibility, so grievously tried by circumstances, it +would be equally absurd and untrue to pretend that he was as impassible +as a stoic, or phlegmatic as some good citizen who vegetates rather than +lives. Did such qualities, or rather faults,—for they betoken a cold +nature,—ever belong to Milton, Dante, Alfieri, and those master-spirits +whose strength of passion, combined with force of intellect, have +merited for them the rank of geniuses?</p> + +<p>All more or less were, and could not fail to have been, susceptible of +irritation and anger; for such susceptibility was indispensable in the +peculiar constitution of their minds. But he who finds sufficient +strength of will to control himself, when over-excitement is caused by +some wounded feeling, does not that person approach to virtue? Did Lord +Byron possess this power? Every thing, even to the testimony of his +servants, his masters, his comrades, proves that he did. In childhood he +showed that he knew how to conquer himself, and would use his power. He +says, himself, that his anger was of a silent nature, and made him grow +pale. Now, is not pale and silent anger of the kind that is overcome? We +know that Lord Byron's mother, while still young, suffered so cruelly +from the simultaneous loss of her fortune and a husband she adored, that +her temper became changed and embittered. She gave way to violent bursts +of passion, quite at variance with her excellent qualities of heart; +thus she loved her son, but being very jealous of his affection, a +trifle sufficed to make her launch out into reproaches and disagreeable +scenes. This disposition on her part was not calculated to inspire the +tenderness which her passionate fondness for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427] </a></span> him would otherwise have +merited. But it was his disapprobation of such scenes that taught him to +overcome in himself all outward tokens of anger, and to keep guard over +his temper. Thus he opposed to the violence displayed by his poor mother +a calm and silent demeanor that provoked her still more, it is true, but +which proved great strength of will in him. After a violent scene that +took place with her during one of his Cambridge vacations, he even +determined on leaving home.</p> + +<p>"It was very seldom," says Moore, "that he allowed himself to be so far +provoked by her as to come out of his passivity."</p> + +<p>And by what he himself declares in his memoranda, written at the age of +twenty-two, we see that he did not permit any external demonstration of +his temper, and that under this discipline it certainly had already +improved. "It is especially when I wish to keep silence, and when I feel +my cheeks and brow grow pale," says he, "that it becomes very difficult +for me to control myself; but the presence of a woman, though not of all +women, suffices to calm me."</p> + +<p>To proceed with justice in any psychological study, we should never lose +sight of the particular circumstances of the subject under treatment. +Now, the circumstances amid which Lord Byron's moral and social life +first began to unfold itself were very irritating.</p> + +<p>While yet a boy we see his heart expand to love, to tenderness, excited +by the way in which the young lady received his attentions, by the gift +she made him of her portrait, by meetings, by the encouragement her +parents afforded; for, notwithstanding the disproportion of age, they +looked favorably on a union that was equal with regard to fortune and +position. And while he was thus beguiled, this girl—whom he considered +an angel—deemed the timid youth too childish, and entered into a union +with a man of fashion.</p> + +<p>On the eve of a long farewell to England, a friend whom he loved with +all the devotedness that belonged to a heart like his, showed the utmost +indifference at his departure. Having attained his majority, he ought to +have taken his seat in the House of Peers; but his noble guardian, Lord +Carlisle, whom he had always treated with respect, and to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428] </a></span> whom he had +lately shown the attention of dedicating his early poems to him, behaved +toward him in an unjustifiable manner. Not only did he refuse to present +him to the House of Lords, but he even delayed sending the documents +necessary for his admission, because forsooth the noble earl <i>did not +like his ward's mother</i>! Lord Byron had published a charming collection +of poems that won for him equal applause and sympathy; but an +all-powerful Review sought to humiliate him and crush his talent in the +bud by bringing out a brutal and stupid article against him. Nor was +this all; he had likewise the annoyance of money embarrassments +inherited from his predecessors in the estate. Leaving England under the +sting of all these insults from men and fate, which a phlegmatic temper +could alone have borne with patience, would it have been astonishing if +his young heart had felt irritation? But could it have existed without +being perceived by those who lived with him? Yet they say nothing about +it. His fellow-traveller was a friend and comrade of old,—Lord +Broughton, then the Hon. Mr. Hobhouse. If Lord Byron had been of an +irritable, violent temper, who more than his daily companion would have +perceived it, and suffered from it in that constant intercourse which +tries the gentlest natures? Mr. Hobhouse had lived with Lord Byron at +Cambridge, was one of his inseparable companions of Newstead, and was a +member of the confraternity of the chapter. Thus he knew him well, and +if Lord Byron's temper had been unamiable, would he have undertaken such +a long journey with him? Lord Byron did not then possess even the +prestige of celerity to render him desirable as a fellow-traveller. +Well, on returning from this journey, Mr. Hobhouse was more attached +than ever to Lord Byron, and, speaking of his qualities, expressed +himself thus:—"To perspicacity of observation and ingenious remarks, +Lord Byron united that gayety and good-humor which keeps attention alive +under the pressure of fatigue, smoothing all difficulties and dangers."</p> + +<p>Journeys taken together test tempers so much, that a good understanding +which has withstood the trial of twenty years, is often compromised in a +journey of twenty-four hours. Thus to choose again for our travelling +companions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429] </a></span> those with whom we have already long journeyed, is the best +testimony that can be rendered to their amiable disposition. Well, this +testimony was given by Mr. Hobhouse; and while proving Lord Byron's +excellent temper, it also proves the high character of Mr. Hobhouse. For +we must not forget that malice and stupidity were inflicting a real +persecution on Lord Byron at the very moment when Mr. Hobhouse hastened +to rejoin him at Geneva, so as to travel again in company with his noble +friend. They accomplished together an excursion into the Alps, and +afterward crossed over them to visit Italy. On arriving at Venice, the +two friends separated for several months; but in the spring they met +again to visit together Rome and Florence. It was beside Mr. Hobhouse, +while scaling the Alps, that the plan of "Manfred" was conceived; and it +was on the road from Venice to Rome that the fourth canto of "Childe +Harold" was written: it is dedicated to Mr. Hobhouse, and he it was who +made the volume of notes, which forms, even independently of the text, a +work so well appreciated in England.</p> + +<p>Having gathered from Lord Byron's first journey proofs of his good +natural disposition, and of the control he exercised over himself, I +shall also draw others from his last: that journey from Cephalonia to +Missolonghi which proved so fatal, and which alone, from all Lord Byron +did, said, and wrote during the time it lasted, would suffice to reveal +his fine character, and almost every one of his virtues.</p> + +<p>It is well known, that during this journey he underwent still greater +annoyances than in the one from Genoa to Cephalonia, which had already +tried him so much. On seeing both destiny and the elements so +pertinaciously combine against its success, one might really be tempted +to embrace superstitious ideas, and see therein the efforts of his good +genius raising up all sorts of obstacles in order to save him, and keep +him from that fatal shore. I have already given the description of this +journey so full of dramatic incidents; and I have related Lord Byron's +admirable conduct throughout, in the passages where proofs are adduced +of his courage in danger, of his extraordinary coolness and extreme +generosity. But that is not enough; we must also examine him with regard +to amiability of temper and the self-control he was able to exercise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430] </a></span></p> + +<p>We have seen him, when pressed on all sides to quit the Ionian Islands +for the continent of Greece, yield to these entreaties, although it was +the most severe season of the year (28th December), and, notwithstanding +a stormy sea, set out for Missolonghi.</p> + +<p>He refused the honor of an escort of Greek vessels, hiring instead a +Cephalonian <i>Mistico</i>, and a heavy <i>Bombarda</i> that waited for him at St. +Euphemia. But on arriving near the harbor, he was driven back by +contrary winds. Forced to remain on shore and wait, what sort of humor +did he display under these annoyances? Mr. Kennedy, who went to wish him +a pleasant journey, shall tell us.</p> + +<p>"I found him," says he, "quietly reading 'Quentin Durward,' and, as +usual, in high spirits."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the sea grew calm. They set sail, and embarked; Lord Byron on +the little <i>Mistico</i>, with his doctor, two or three servants, and his +dogs; Count Gamba on the <i>Bombarda</i>, with the arms, horses, followers, +baggage, papers, money, etc. On arriving at Zante, persons came to offer +Lord Byron means of amusement, various comforts, etc. To accept might +have been very pleasant for him; but he knew that he was wanted at +Missolonghi; and not an hour would he lose after having transacted +business with his bankers. He believed (for it had been announced) that +Greek vessels were coming to meet him; nor did he doubt that the Turkish +fleet was still anchored at Lepanto. Sea and wind were favorable, the +sky serene, fortune for once seemed to smile; but it was only the better +to deceive him. The Turks had been informed of his departure; and hoped +to make an easy prey of him and his riches. They left the waters of +Lepanto, and heading their course toward Patras, set off in pursuit of +Lord Byron and his suite.</p> + +<p>At the close of a few hours, the <i>Mistico</i>, which was a good sailer, +lost sight of the <i>Bombarda</i>, of slower motion. They halted opposite the +Scrophes (rocks in Roumelia), to wait for it; and meanwhile Lord Byron +saw a large vessel bearing down upon him. Could it be the Greek vessel +sent to meet him? The <i>Mistico</i> fired a pistol at its approach, but the +vessel did not answer fire. Was it the enemy, then? On hearing the cries +of the sailors on board, the captain could no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431] </a></span> longer doubt it: it was +an Ottoman frigate, calling on them to surrender. Their sole hope of +safety lay in the swiftness of their sails. Under cover of the darkness, +which left the Turks in fear lest the <i>Mistico</i> should be a fire-ship, +and aided by the almost miraculous silence that reigned,—for even the +dogs, that had been barking all night, now held their peace,—the +<i>Mistico</i> sped onward rapidly. At dawn of day it had arrived opposite +the coast, but, owing to a contrary wind, was unable to get into port. +At the same moment, another Turkish vessel, on the watch, closed the +passage toward the Gulf. An Ionian boat perceived the danger, and made +signals from the shore for the <i>Mistico</i> not to approach. They then +succeeded, all sails set, in throwing themselves between the rocks of +Roumelia, called Scrophes, where the Turkish vessel could not penetrate. +It was amid these rocks, where he hardly remained an hour, that Lord +Byron wrote Colonel Stanhope a letter, truly admirable for its +generosity, patience, courage, coolness, and good temper; a letter which +it would seem impossible to pen under such circumstances, and which +makes Count Gamba say, when he quotes it in his work entitled "Last +Voyage of Lord Byron in Greece:"—</p> + +<p>"Such was Lord Byron's style in the midst of great dangers. There was +always immense gayety in him, under circumstances that render other men +serious and full of care. This disposition of mind gave him an air of +frankness and sincerity, quite irresistible, even with persons +previously less well disposed toward him."</p> + +<p>Having hardly, and as if by a miracle, escaped from this danger, and +being exposed every instant to assault from the Turks, having seen the +<i>Bombarda</i> captured by the Ottoman frigate, did he complain of any thing +personal to himself? No. His sole anxiety was for Count Gamba; his +uneasiness was the danger to which the Greeks with him were exposed. As +to his money losses—"<i>Never mind</i>," said he,"<i>don't think about it, we +have some left.</i> But we have no arms, except two carbines and some +pistols; and if our friends, the Turks, took a fancy to send their +vessels to attack us, I greatly fear that we should only be four on +board to defend ourselves."</p> + +<p>Not being able to know that the <i>unexpected apparition</i> of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432] </a></span>the Turkish +fleet had put out all their calculations, and prevented the Greek +government from collecting the vessels sent from Missolonghi to meet +him; not knowing that Missolonghi, in great consternation, on learning +the danger to which he was exposed, was about to send other vessels in +quest of him, other vessels that would no longer find him near the +Scrophes rocks, he necessarily believed that nothing had been done to +keep the promises made him. Under such a persuasion, would not some few +harsh words have been most natural? And yet this is the language Lord +Byron used:—</p> + +<p>"But where has it gone to; the fleet that lets us advance without giving +the least sign of any Moslems in these latitudes? Present my respects to +Mavrocordato, and tell him I am here at his disposal. I am ill at ease +here (among the rocks), not so much for myself, as for the Greek child +with me; for you know what his destiny would be! We are all in good +health."</p> + +<p>The <i>Mistico</i> had hardly been an hour among these rocks, Lord Byron's +letter to Colonel Stanhope was hardly finished, when the Turkish vessel +on the lookout made toward them to give chase; and they were obliged to +fly without delay. Issuing from the rocks, they directed their course, +full sail, toward a little port of Acarnania, called Dragomestri, where +they arrived before night.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron wished to continue his route by land; but it was impossible. +The mountains did not afford him better hospitality than the sea. It was +the 1st of January; his sole resting-place was the damp deck of the +<i>Mistico</i>. There he slept, there he eat the coarse sailors' food; and +his fingers were so cramped with cold, that he could scarcely write. If +he had complained a little of his hard fate, could one be much +astonished? Yet these are the terms in which he wrote to his two +correspondents at Cephalonia.—<i>It was the month of January; he wished +every one a happy new year; apparently forgetting only himself. He then +entered into some details about his "Odyssey" with so much calmness, +that nothing seemed to touch him personally; but his heart protested +meanwhile, and he could not help showing uneasiness about the fate of +his friend Count Gamba, although persuaded that his detention was only +temporary:</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I regret the detention of Gamba, etc., but the rest we can make up +again, so tell Hancock to set my bills into cash as soon as possible, +and Corgialegno to prepare the remainder of my credit with Messrs. Webb +to be turned into money. We are here for the <i>fifth day without taking +our clothes off, and sleeping on deck in all weathers, but are all very +well and in good spirits</i>. I shall remain here, unless something +extraordinary occurs, till Mavrocordato sends, and then go on, and act +according to circumstances. My respects to the two colonels, and +remembrances to all friends. Tell <i>Ultima Analise</i><a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> that his friend +Raids did not make his appearance with the brig, though I think that he +might as well have spoken with us in or off Zante, to give us a gentle +hint of what we had to expect. Excuse my scrawl, on account of the pen +and the frosty morning at daybreak.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"</p> + +<p>He writes at the same time to Hancock:—</p> + +<p>"Here we are—the <i>Bombarda</i> taken—or at least missing, with all the +Committee stores, my friend Gamba, the horses, negro, bull-dog, steward, +and domestics, with all our implements of peace and war—also 8000 +dollars; but whether she will be a lawful prize or no, is for the +decision of the governor of the Seven Islands. We are in good condition, +considering wind and weather, being hunted by the Turks, and the +difficulty of sleeping on deck; we are in tolerable seasoning for the +country and circumstances. But I foresee that we shall have occasion for +all the cash I can muster at Zante and elsewhere. Tell our friends to +keep up their spirits—and we may yet do well. I hope that Gamba's +detention will only be temporary. As for the effects and money, if we +have them, well; if otherwise, patience! I disembarked the boy and +another Greek, who were in most terrible alarm. As for me and mine, we +must stick to our goods. I wish you a happy new year; and all our +friends the same. Yours,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"</p> + +<p>Would an impatient, irritable temper have acted thus, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434] </a></span>and preserved +such serenity amid so many annoyances, privations, and sufferings, of +which one alone might suffice to make a stoic bitter?</p> + +<p>But this was not yet all. After six days of this life, hopeless of being +able to continue by land, and getting no answer from Missolonghi (from +whence, nevertheless, several gun-boats had been dispatched to meet him, +and also the brig "Leonidas," which he only fell in with near the +Scrophes), he resolved on setting out. But the wind, which had never +ceased being contrary, soon changed into a furious tempest. Then Byron +was truly sublime. His bark was thrown against enormous rocks; the +affrighted sailors, seeing their lives in danger, and excited by fear, +abandoned the vessel to seek refuge on the rocks. But he remained there, +on board the vessel, which every one saw was sinking.<a name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a></p> + +<p>Encouraged by such an example, the sailors let go their hold on the +rocks to try and free the vessel, which they succeeded in setting afloat +again; but it was only for it to be forced back a second time by the +angry waves. Then despair seized on them all; they trembled for the +general safety, and for the illustrious personage on board. He alone +showed no emotion; but calmly said to his doctor, who, in great alarm, +was about to swim for the shore: "Do not leave the vessel while we have +sufficient strength to guide her; only when the water covers us +entirely, then throw yourself into the sea, and I will undertake to save +you."</p> + +<p>And in the midst of those dangers he not only appeared calm, but his +gay, playful humor, and his habit of observing the different aspects of +every thing, did not abandon him. After having soothed and consoled +those around him, he likewise found means of amusement in the strong +traits of individuality which fear brought to light among his followers. +The sailors who had remained on board, seeing the danger become so +imminent, were about to betake themselves, like the rest, to the rocks; +but encouraged by Lord Byron's words and example, they remained at their +post, and succeeded in bringing the vessel between two little islands, +where they cast anchor. Thus Lord Byron, by his courage, firmness, and +his great experience in the art of navigation, overcame this great +peril, saving several lives, together with the money and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435] </a></span> other means of +assistance he was conveying to Greece! The sailors esteemed themselves +happy to be able to cast anchor between these islands, or rather these +rocks, in order to pass the night; but even what appeared fortunate, was +destined to turn out the reverse in this fatal journey.</p> + +<p>If Lord Byron did not complain of the privation and ennui he +experienced, he did not, therefore, feel them less. After so many nights +passed on the damp and dirty deck of his <i>Mistico</i>, he could not resist +the desire of refreshing himself, and seeking amid the waves that +cleanliness which was an imperative want for his refined nature. And so, +without reflecting on the rigor of the season (it was the month of +January), he plunged into the troubled sea, and swam there for half an +hour. Imprudence no less fatal to him than to Alexander.<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> For it was +then, undoubtedly, that he contracted the seeds of the malady which +showed itself soon after, and under which he succumbed. At last he +arrived at Missolonghi, without having ceased for one instant to be +threatened by the sea. He was expected there as if he had been the +Messiah, says Stanhope; and the consternation caused by the dangers he +had gone through, gave place, on his arrival, to the most lively joy. +Lord Byron met with a reception worthy of himself.<a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> But this +enthusiastic joy, which found expression in songs as well as tears, +subjected his patience and good-nature to another sort of trial.</p> + +<p>"After eight days of such fatigue," says Count Gamba, "he had scarcely +time to refresh himself, and converse with Mavrocordato, and his friends +and countrymen, before he was assailed by the tumultuous visits of the +primates and chiefs. These latter, not content with coming all together, +each had a suite of twenty or thirty, and not unfrequently, fifty +soldiers! It was difficult to make them understand that he had fixed +certain hours to receive them. Their visits began at seven in the +morning, and the greater part of them were without any object." This is +one of the most insupportable annoyances to which a man of influence and +consideration is exposed in the East.</p> + +<p>"<i>I saw Lord Byron bear all this with the greatest patience.</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436] </a></span></p> + +<p>Could an irritable temper have done so? For my part, I think that this +journey alone, borne, as we have seen, by his letters and the unanimous +testimony of his companions, with such perfect good-humor, that he could +jest, be quite resigned to unavoidable evils, show indulgence to the +faults of others, however great the sufferings entailed thereby on +himself; and display great self-denial, strength of mind, and +imperturbable serenity, amid frightful dangers; all these qualities, I +say, paint the moral nature of the man better than all analyses and +commentaries.</p> + +<p>But alas! while displaying his virtues, this journey also brings out his +faults: since, prudent in behalf of others, he was not at all so for +himself; and his want of prudence planted in him the germs of the +disease which was so soon to be fatally developed in that stifling +atmosphere of Greece, then full of tumult and confusion. If the limits +of this chapter allowed, we could multiply proofs of his naturally +amiable disposition at all periods of his life; and we would show what +he was in Switzerland, at Venice, Ravenna, Pisa, Genoa, and in Greece, +up to his last hour, as he has been described by Shelley, Hoppner, M. de +G——, Medwin, Lady B——, and so many others. But to those who have +said he was irritable because, feeling himself susceptible of irritation +and anger, he declared himself to be so, I will content myself with +answering simply by a few lines borrowed from the truthful conversations +of Mr. Kennedy:—</p> + +<p>"Even during his last days on earth, he calumniated himself. For +instance, he told me, that at a certain hour, every evening, he had +intolerable fits of ill-humor. Well, Mr. Finlay and M—— always went to +see him precisely at that fatal hour, and they invariably found him gay, +pleasant, and amiable, as usual."</p> + +<p>Mr. Finlay, a young English officer of merit and high intelligence, whom +Lord Byron thought very like Shelley, which, perhaps, increased his +sympathy for him, and who only knew him two months before his death, +says, in a letter written on Lord Byron to Colonel Stanhope:—</p> + +<p>"What astonished me most was the indifference with which Lord Byron +spoke to us of all the lying reports his enemies spread against him. He +gave his vindication and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437] </a></span> explanation with as much calm frankness as if +it had concerned another person."</p> + +<p>And he declares his astonishment at seeing him submit to the lessons of +morality, and the censures on his opinions and principles which Kennedy, +in his extreme orthodoxy, made him undergo.<a name="FNanchor_110_110" id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a></p> + +<p>I will also add, that Lord Byron was often heard to say that he had been +in a frightful rage with his servants; but, if they were questioned, +<i>they knew nothing at all about it</i>. It is known, moreover, that his +toleration and gentleness with them almost exceeded due bounds, and +that, even when he had serious cause for chiding them, his severest +reprimands were conveyed in jests and pleasantries.</p> + +<p>Persons who will not change their convictions, go so far as to +say,—"Well, be it so. We admit that he may have been calumniated in his +private life, and that his strange fancy of speaking against himself may +have contributed toward it. But how do you explain the anger expressed +by his pen? Do you forget his misanthropical invectives, his personal +attacks, his 'Avatar,' his epigrams?"</p> + +<p>And I answer them:—"Do you forget that there are different kinds of +anger? some that can never be vicious, and others that can never be +virtuous? The anger expressed by his pen—the sole kind that was real +with him—requires to be explained, not excused or forgotten."</p> + +<p>"Let us beware," says a great contemporary philosopher, "of him who is +never irritated, and can not understand the existence of a noble +anger."<a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a></p> + +<p>Be so good as to examine, without preconceived opinions, and without +prejudice, the nature of every kind of anger he displayed; see if any +were personal, egotistical, or whether they did not rather spring from +some noble cause; whether they were not rather the generous explosions +of a soul burning with indignation at evil and injustice, because it +ever held in view the contrast afforded by an ideal of its own that was +only too perfect?</p> + +<p>It is impossible, for instance, not to see that his pen was guided by +one of these generous impulses when he spoke of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438] </a></span>Lord Castlereagh. He +had no personal, malevolent, interested antipathy toward this gay and +fashionable nobleman. His pen was inspired simply by his conscience, +that revolted at sight of the evils which he attributed to Lord +Castlereagh's policy. It was not the colleague, but the minister, that +he wished to stigmatize together with his policy, which appeared to Lord +Byron inhuman, selfish, and unjust. It was this same policy that caused +Pitt to say:—</p> + +<p>"If we were just for one hour, we should not live a day." And +again:—"Perish every principle rather than England!"</p> + +<p>What other statesman did Lord Byron attack except Castlereagh? But him +he did detest with a noble hatred.</p> + +<p>"By what right do you attack Lord C——?" he was asked.</p> + +<p>"By the right," he replied, "that every honest man has to denounce the +minister who ruins his country, and treads under foot every sentiment of +equity and humanity."</p> + +<p>A few days before setting out on his last journey to Greece, he said to +an English lady passing through Genoa:—</p> + +<p>"With regard to Lord Castlereagh personally, whom you hear that I have +attacked, I can only say that a bad minister's memory is as much an +object of investigation as his conduct while alive. He is a matter of +history; and wherever I find a tyrant or a <i>villain</i>, I will mark him. I +attacked him no more than I had the right to do, and than was necessary.</p> + +<p>"Do not defend me, you will only make yourself enemies—mine are neither +to be diminished nor softened."</p> + +<p>When Lord Byron wrote about Lord Castlereagh, imagination beheld in him +the author of all the evils inflicted on Ireland, the man who through a +selfish feeling of nationality, dangerous even to England, had riveted +the chains of all Europe.</p> + +<p>"If he spoke and wrote thus of Lord Castlereagh," says Kennedy himself, +"the reason was that he really thought him an enemy to the true +interests of his country; and this sentiment, carried perhaps to excess, +made him consider it just to condemn him to the execration of +humanity."<a name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></p> + +<p>What I have said with regard to his attacks on Lord Castlereagh, may +equally apply to all the satire hurled against other individuals, +against governments and nations. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439] </a></span> benevolence was so great and +universal, that it rendered the idea of the sufferings endured by +humanity quite intolerable to him. His love of justice likewise was so +great, that he became thoroughly indignant at seeing what he worshiped +trampled under foot by individual or national selfishness, while deceit +and injustice were reigning triumphant. Lord Byron conceived a sort of +hatred and dislike for the wicked, and those who voluntarily prevented +the well-being of men. And when thus indignant at some injustice, if he +snatched up a pen, he could not help expressing himself with a certain +kind of violence, in order to chastise, if he could not change, the +guilty men who martyrized Ireland, crushed and degraded Italy, and +condemned England to the hatred of the whole world. The sparkling, witty +strain, mocking at all human things, which had served as a weapon for +his reason while asserting the interests of truth and injustice in +Italy, and protesting against folly and evil, no longer sufficed him +then. He required to brand with fire the limit where folly stops and +crime begins. Thus it was not mocking, joking satire he would inflict on +these great culprits; but burning words to mark the limits where this +should stop, and stigmatize them by condemning moral deformity. This is +what he did, and wished to do, with regard to Castlereagh, and also with +regard to the Austrians in Italy. Shall it be said that his language was +occasionally too violent; that the punishment went beyond the crime? +But, in the first place, condemnation was pronounced in the language of +poetry; and then, does not appreciation of the measure kept depend +solely on the point of view taken by reason and conscience when they sat +in judgment?</p> + +<p>Shall it be said that the moral sense of these invectives was not always +brought forward with all the clearness desirable? But let them be +examined attentively, and then the fine sentiments to which they owe +their origin will be understood.</p> + +<p>Let us read "Avatar," for instance,—"Avatar," teeming with noble +anger,—and say if any poetry exists emitting flame and light purer, and +more intense in its moral life, more efficacious for keeping within the +boundaries of that humane just policy from which Lord Byron never +swerved.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440] </a></span></p> + +<p>If, in the war he waged against evil and its perpetrators, he did not +outstep the limits of merited punishment, nevertheless he often did go +beyond the limits of a quality (he possessed not) which is raised to the +rank of a virtue, but which applied, despite conscience, to our personal +interests, is but selfishness and cowardice. And therein was he truly +sublime; for in attacking thus, not only the great men of the day, but +likewise the prejudices, idolatries, and passions belonging to such a +proud nation, he well knew the harm that would result to himself. But +Lord Byron was a real hero. So soon as his conscience spoke, he heard no +other voice, but kept his glance fixed on the light of justice and truth +beaming at the end of his career. Without looking to the right or to the +left, without taking into account the obstacles and dangers which +personal prudence counselled him to avoid, he held on his course; +exposed his noble breast to British vengeance pursuing him across the +Channel and the Alps, and then also to Genevan and Austrian shafts that +flew back again across the Alps and the Channel on the wings of dark, +fierce calumny.</p> + +<p>Still I do not pretend to assert that, on some rare occasions, personal +suffering did not give rise to irritation and anger. He belonged to +humanity; and if, despite the harsh trials to which his sensibility was +exposed, he had escaped entirely from nature's laws, he would have been +not only heroic, but superhuman.</p> + +<p>It is then very possible that, in the sad days preceding, accompanying, +and following on his separation from Lady Byron, he may have been +irritable. Such a host of evils overwhelmed him at once! He may have +allowed to escape his lips at that time some drops of the ocean of +bitterness with which his soul was overflowing. It is certain also that +when the Edinburgh critics made such cruel havoc with his heart and +mind, the over-excitement caused by this review had likewise for its +source the wounds inflicted on his self-love. Can we be astonished at +it, when we reflect that this senseless, wicked criticism succeeded to, +and contrasted strangely with, the praises awarded by such judges as +Mackenzie and Lord Woodhouse? They both had expressed their admiration +spontaneously, and without knowing the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441] </a></span> writer: one of them was the +celebrated author of the "Man of Feeling," and the other had brought out +many esteemed works, and was considered to be at the head of Scottish +literature. Besides, these cutting criticisms followed close on the +strong admiration expressed by his friends, by all the society in which +he was then moving, and by a mother who idolized him! These verses, +though not yet the highest expression of his genius, were certainly full +of charming tenderness, grace, and naïve sensibility; moreover, they had +been given to the public in such a modest way by a man so young that he +might almost be called a child! If he were not conscious of his great +superiority, of which he must nevertheless have felt some prophetic +presentiment—restrained, doubtless, by modesty and timidity,—he must +at least have been conscious that he had not, in any way, merited the +brutality displayed in attacks which violated all the laws of just and +allowable criticism.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron's soul revolted at it, and in his indignation repelling +assault by assault, he overstepped his aim; for he certainly went to +extremes. And yet, in the very paroxysm of such irritation, was a +personal sentiment his first incentive? No! it was a good, generous, +affectionate feeling that actuated him: fear lest his mother should be +grieved at what had occurred.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely been told how biting the criticism was, and he had not +read it, when he hastened to write to his friend Beecher:—</p> + +<p>"Tell Mrs. Byron not to be out of humor with them, and to prepare her +mind for the greatest hostility on their part. It will do no injury +whatever, and I trust her mind will not be ruffled. They defeat their +object by indiscriminate abuse, and they never praise, except the +partisans of Lord Holland and Co. It is nothing to be abused when +Southey and Moore share the same fate."</p> + +<p>In assuming this philosophical calm, which he really did arrive at +later, but which he was very far from possessing at this time,—in +forcing this language on his just resentment to console his mother, when +his whole being was agitated, he certainly made one of those efforts +which betoken a soul as vigorous as it was beautiful. He used his pen as +soon as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442] </a></span> had satisfied this first want of his heart; but the +intensity of passion destroyed his equilibrium.</p> + +<p>When at Ravenna he wrote:—</p> + +<p>"I recollect well the effect that criticism produced on me; it was rage, +and resistance, and redress, but not despondency nor despair. A savage +review is hemlock to a sucking author; the one on me knocked me +down—but I got up again. This criticism was a master-piece of low +jests, a tissue of coarse invectives. It contained many commonplace +expressions, lowlived insults; for instance, that one should be grateful +for what one got; that a gift horse ought not to be looked at in the +mouth, and other stable vocabulary; but that did not frighten me. I +resolved on giving the lie to their predictions, and on showing them, +that, however discordant my voice, it was not the last time they were to +hear it."</p> + +<p>But when this heat had passed away, his innate passion for that justice +so cruelly violated toward himself, made him quickly recover his +self-possession. He repented having written this satire, which he +designated as insensate, and wished to suppress it. He even judged it +more severely than others.</p> + +<p>He wrote to Coleridge in 1815:—</p> + +<p>"You mention my satire, lampoon, or whatever you like to call it. I can +only say, that it was written when I was very young and very angry, and +has been <i>a thorn in my side ever since</i>: more particularly as almost +all the persons animadverted upon became subsequently my acquaintances, +and some of them my friends, which is heaping fire on an enemy's head, +and forgiving me too readily to permit me to forgive myself. The part +applied to you is pert, and petulant, and shallow enough; but, although +I have long done every thing in my power to suppress the circulation of +the whole thing, I shall always regret the wantonness or generality of +its attempted attacks."<a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a></p> + +<p>On examining his conscience with regard to this satire, and passing +judgment on himself, he adds, in a note to his own verses, after having +given great praise to Jeffrey for his magnanimity, etc.:—</p> + +<p>"<i>I was really too ferocious—this is mere insanity.</i>—B., 1816."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443] </a></span></p> + +<p>And farther on:—</p> + +<p>"<i>This is bad; because personal.</i>—B., 1816."</p> + +<p>With regard to his verses on his guardian, Lord Carlisle, so culpable +toward himself, he generously remarks:</p> + +<p>"<i>Wrong also</i>—<i>the provocation was not sufficient to justify such +acerbity.</i>—B., 1816."</p> + +<p>To what he said against Wordsworth he simply adds the word, "<i>Unjust.</i>"</p> + +<p>And again, with reference to Lord Carlisle:—</p> + +<p>"<i>Much too savage, whatever the foundation may be.</i>—B., 1816."</p> + +<p>And at Geneva, 14th of July, 1816, he writes:—</p> + +<p>"<i>The greater part of this satire I most sincerely wish had never been +written</i>: not only on account of the injustice of much of the critical +and some of the personal part of it, but the tone and temper are such as +I can not approve.—<span class="smcap">Byron</span>, <i>Villa Diodati</i>, 1816."</p> + +<p>Lastly, from Venice he wrote to Murray, who wished to make a superior +edition of his works:—</p> + +<p>"With regard to a future large edition, you may print all, or any thing, +<i>except</i> '<i>English Bards</i>,' to the republication of which at no time +will I consent. I would not reprint them on any consideration. I don't +think them good for much, even in point of poetry; and, as to other +things, you are to recollect that I gave up the publication on account +of the Hollands, and I do not think that any time or circumstances +should cancel the suppression. Add to which, that, after being on terms +with almost all the bards and critics of the day, it would be savage at +any time, but worst of all <i>now</i>,<a name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> to revive this foolish lampoon."</p> + +<p>"Whatever may have been the faults or indiscretion of this satire," says +Moore, "there are few who would now sit in judgment upon it so severely +as did the author himself, on reading it over nine years after, when he +had quitted England, never to return. The copy which he then perused is +now in possession of Mr. Murray, and the remarks which he has scribbled +over its pages are well worth transcribing. On the first leaf we +find:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"The binding of this volume is considerably too valuable for its +contents. Nothing but the consideration of its being the property +of another prevents me from consigning this miserable record of +misplaced anger and indiscriminate acrimony to the flames.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"</p> + +<p>To this ample reparation offered on account of his early satire we must +add the following paragraph, from the first letter he addressed to Sir +Walter Scott, in 1812:—</p> + +<p>"I feel sorry that you should have thought it worth while to notice the +'<i>evil works of my nonage</i>,' as the thing is suppressed voluntarily; and +your explanation is too kind not to give me pain. The satire was written +when I was very young and very angry, and fully bent on displaying my +wrath and my wit, and now I am haunted by the ghosts of my wholesale +assertions. I can not sufficiently thank you for your praise."</p> + +<p>Thus scrupulously did this conscientious man judge himself. And not only +do we find him repeating the same fine sentiment a hundred times, but he +caused the whole edition, then still in the hands of the publisher, to +be destroyed, which of course entailed a great sacrifice of money. He +became intimate with the principal personages whom he had attacked; and +even, in order to testify that no resentment continued to exist in his +mind against his guardian, Lord Carlisle, he seized the first +opportunity that presented itself of writing in "Childe Harold" those +pathetic generous lines on the death of his son, Major Howard. He acted +just in the same way every time he thought he had any fault to repair. +But could this same love of justice, that had guided him through life, +have caused him equally to disavow what he said of Lord Castlereagh and +of Ireland in "Avatar?" of Southey and the Austrians at Venice? or the +greater part of the satirical traits contained in "Don Juan" and the +"Age of Bronze?" I do not think so. I believe, even, that if on his +death-bed, he had been asked to retract some of his writings, he would +have answered as Pascal did. And this because the sentiment which under +all circumstances guided his pen did not arise from any personal +interest, but was only, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445] </a></span>to use the beautiful language of a great +contemporary philosopher, "the indignation and revolt of the generous +faculties of the soul, which, hurt by injustice, rose up proudly, to +protest against human dignity, offended in one's own person or in that +of others."</p> + +<p>This sentiment not being capable of change, neither could its +consequences bring any repentance. According to Lord Byron, Castlereagh +was a scourge for mankind. Faithful to this opinion, as to all his great +principles, he wrote to Moore in 1815:—</p> + +<p>"I am sick at heart of politics and slaughters; and the luck which +Providence is pleased to lavish on Lord Castlereagh, is only a proof of +the little value the gods set upon prosperity, when they permit such +rogues as he and that drunken corporal, old Bl——, to bully their +betters. From this, however, Wellington should be excepted. He <i>is</i> a +man, and the Scipio of our Hannibal."</p> + +<p>Let people read the "Avatar," the eleventh octave and following of the +dedication of "Don Juan," the forty-ninth and fiftieth stanzas of the +ninth canto of "Don Juan," as well as the epigrams; and they will have a +fair idea of the generous sentiments that provoked his indignation +against the inhuman policy of this minister. They will understand why he +wished to denounce him to the execration of posterity. As to his +satirical verses and anger against the poet laureate, it has already +been seen on whose side lay the fault, and how this jealous poet, +through a combination of bad feelings, in which envy and revenge +predominated, spared no means, no occasion, of doing him harm. Thus Lord +Byron saw himself and his friends enveloped in one of those darksome +conspiracies, forming a labyrinth of calumny, whence the purest +innocence has no escape; and he felt that justice violated in the person +of his friends, by a man unworthy of respect, required him, in justice, +to brand the individual. And rightly did he so with his words of fire. +When Ireland, that he would fain have seen heroic under misfortune, +degraded herself by her conduct toward this minister and the king, on +the occasion of their visit, he, touched with noble indignation, +resolved to punish and warn her; and his "Avatar" expressed these fine +sentiments. When the prince regent, after having shown himself a Liberal +and a Whig, denied his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446] </a></span> part, betrayed his party, and leagued with the +Tories, Lord Byron's noble indignation burst forth in his verses, and, +whenever occasion offered, he stigmatized such unworthy conduct.</p> + +<p>And a proof that it was the conduct of the individual, and not personal +animosity, that guided his pen, may be found in the fact that a single +ray of hope of seeing this moral deformity transformed into beauty, +sufficed to make him change his tone immediately. When he learned the +pardon that had just been granted by George the Fourth to the guilty +Lord Edward Fitzgerald, he forgot all past offenses; his soul expanded +to admiration and hope; and he composed that beautiful sonnet, which so +well reveals the aspirations of his great heart:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"To be the father of the fatherless,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To stretch the hand from the throne's height, and raise</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>His</i> offspring, who expired in other days</span><br /> +To make thy sire's sway by a kingdom less,—<br /> +<i>This</i> is to be a monarch, and repress<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Envy into unutterable praise.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dismiss thy guard, and trust thee to such traits,</span><br /> +For who would lift a hand except to bless?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were it not easy, sir, and is't not sweet</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make thyself beloved? and to be</span><br /> +Omnipotent by mercy's means? for thus<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy sovereignty would grow but more complete:</span><br /> +A despot thou, and yet thy people free,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the heart, not hand, enslaving us."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><i>Bologna, August 12, 1819.</i></span><br /> +</div> + +<p>And then, as if poetry did not suffice, he adds these lines in prose:—</p> + +<p>"So the prince has annulled Lord E. Fitzgerald's condemnation. He +deserves all praise, bad and good: it was truly a princely act."</p> + +<p>All Lord Byron's expressions of indignation that have been attributed to +anger, belong really to his disinterested, heroic, generous nature. We +may convince ourselves of this by following him through life, beginning +from childhood, at college, when he would plant himself in front of +school tyrants, asking to share the punishments inflicted on his friend +Peel, and always taking the part of his weak or oppressed companions; +then, during his first youth, when an accumulation of unmerited griefs +and injustice cast over him a shade of misanthropy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447] </a></span> so contrary to his +nature; and, lastly, up to the moment when that noble indignation burst +forth which he experienced in Greece, and which hastened his end.<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a></p> + +<p>This is the truth. Nevertheless, if, in early youth, he did sometimes go +beyond the limits of what may be fairly conceded to extreme +sensibility,—to a certain hypochondriacal tendency of race, and more +especially of his intellectual life; if he really was sometimes wearied, +fatigued, discouraged, inclined to irritation, and to view things +darkly, can it, therefore, be said that he weakly gave way to a morbid +disposition? By no means. He always wished to sift his conscience +thoroughly,—never ceased analyzing causes and symptoms, proclaiming his +state morbid, and blaming himself beyond measure, far beyond what +justice warranted, for a single word that had escaped his lips under the +pressure of intense suffering. And even in the few moments of impatience +occasioned by his last illness, he said, "Do not take the language of a +sick man for his real sentiments." Lastly, he never gave over struggling +against himself; seeking to acquire dominion over his faculties and +passions intellectually by hard study, and materially by the strictest +régime. What could he do more? it may be said. But if it be true that he +had been irritable in his youth, that would only show how much he +achieved; for he must have conquered himself immensely, since at Venice, +Ravenna, Pisa, Genoa, and in Greece, he certainly displayed no traces of +temper, and all those causes which usually excite irritation and anger +in others had quite ceased to produce any in him.</p> + +<p>"A mild philosophy," says the Countess G——, "every day more and more +took possession of his soul. Adversity and the companionship of great +thoughts strengthened him so much, that he was able to cast off the yoke +of even ordinary passions, only retaining those among the number which +impel to good.<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></p> + +<p>"I have seen him sometimes at Ravenna, Pisa, Genoa, when receiving news +of some stupid, savage attack, from those who, in violating justice, +also did him considerable harm. No emotion of anger any longer mixed +itself up with his generous indignation. He appeared rather to +experience a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448] </a></span> mixture of contempt, almost of quiet austere pleasure, in +the struggle his great soul sustained against fools."</p> + +<p>When Shelley saw him again at Venice, in 1818, and painted him under the +name of Count Maddalo, he said:—</p> + +<p>"In social life there is not a human being <i>gentler, more patient, more +natural, and modest</i>, than Lord Byron. He is gay, open, and witty; his +graver conversations steep you in a kind of inebriation. He has +travelled a great deal, and possesses ineffable charm when he relates +his adventures in the different countries he has visited."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hoppner, English consul at Venice, and Lord Byron's friend, who was +living constantly with him at this time, sums up his own impressions in +these remarkable terms:—</p> + +<p>"Of one thing I am certain, that I never met with goodness more real +than Lord Byron's."</p> + +<p>And some years later, when Shelley saw Lord Byron again at Ravenna, he +wrote to Mrs. Shelley:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron has made great progress in all respects; in genius, +<i>temper</i>, moral views, health, and happiness. His intimacy with the +Countess G—— has been of inestimable benefit to him. A fourth part of +his revenue is devoted to beneficence. He has conquered his passions, +and become what nature meant him to be, <i>a virtuous man</i>."</p> + +<p>In concluding these quotations, no longer requisite, I hope, I will only +make one last observation, <i>that all which infallibly changes in a bad +nature never did change in him</i>. Friendship, real love, all devoted +feelings, lived on in him <i>unchanged</i> to his last hour. If he had had a +bad disposition, been capricious, irritable, or given to anger, would +this have been the case?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Count Delladecima, to whom he gives this name in +consequence of a habit which that gentleman had of using the phrase "in +ultima analise" frequently in conversation.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> See the account given by Mr. Bruno, his physician.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> Alexander the Great imprudently bathed in the Cydnus, +etc.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> "Life in Italy." See how he was received at Missolonghi.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> Parry, 215.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> Jules Simon.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Kennedy, 330.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> Moore, vol. iii, p. 159.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> <i>Now</i> alludes to the ungenerous treatment received from +many of these persons at the time of his separation.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>LORD BYRON'S MOBILITY.</h3> + + +<p>So much has been said of Lord Byron's mobility that it is necessary to +analyze it well, and examine it under different aspects, so as to define +and bring it within due limits. In the first place, we may ask on what +grounds his biographers rested their opinion of this extraordinary +mobility, which, according to them, went beyond the scope of +intellectual qualities rather into the category of faults of temper? +Evidently it was again through accepting a testimony the small value of +which we have already shown; namely, Lord Byron's own words at +twenty-three years of age—that period when passion is hardly ever a +regular wind, simply swelling sails, but rather a gusty tempest, +tearing them to pieces; and then again they grounded their opinion +on verses in "Don Juan," where he explains the meaning of these +expressions,—versatility and mobility. Moore, from motives we shall +examine hereafter, found it expedient to take Lord Byron at his word, +and to make a great fuss about this quality. In summing up his +character, he reasons very cleverly on the unexampled extent, as he +calls it, of this faculty, and the consequences to which it led in Lord +Byron. Following in Moore's wake, other biographers have proclaimed Lord +Byron versatile. Moore exaggerates so far as to pretend that this +faculty made it almost impossible to find a dominant characteristic in +Lord Byron. As if mobility were not, in reality, a universal quality or +defect,—as if men could so govern themselves throughout life as to +resemble the hero of a drama, where the action is confined within +classical rules.</p> + +<p>"A man possessing the highest order of mind is, nevertheless, unequal," +says La Bruyère. "He suffers from increase and diminution; he gets into +a good train of thought, and falls out of it likewise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450] </a></span></p> + +<p>"It is different with an automaton. Such a man is like a machine,—a +spring. Weight carries him away, making him move and turn forever in the +same direction, and with equal motion. He is uniform, and never changes. +Once seen, he appears the same at all times and periods of life. At +best, he is but the ox lowing, or the blackbird whistling; he is fixed +and stamped by nature, and I may say by species. What shows least in him +is his soul; that never acts,—is never brought into play,—perpetually +reposes. Such a man will be a gainer by death."</p> + +<p>La Bruyère also says, "There is a certain mediocrity that helps to make +a man appear wise."</p> + +<p>And what says Montaigne, that great connoisseur of the human heart?—</p> + +<p>"Our usual custom is to go right or left, over mountains or valleys, +just as we are drifted by the wind of opportunity. We change like that +animal which assumes the color of the spots where it is placed. All is +vacillation and inconstancy. We do not walk of ourselves; we are carried +away like unto things that float now gently and now impetuously, +according to the uncertain mood of the waters. Every day some new fancy +arises, and our tempers vary with the weather. This fluctuation and +contradiction ever succeeding in us, has caused it to be imagined by +some that we possess two souls; by others, that two faculties are +perpetually at work within us, one inclining us toward good, and the +other toward evil."</p> + +<p>Montaigne also says:—"I give my soul sometimes one appearance, and +sometimes another, according to the side on which I look at it; if I +speak variously of myself, it is because I look at myself variously: all +contrarieties, in one degree or other, are found in me, according to the +number of turns given. Thus I am shamefaced, insolent, chaste, sensual, +talkative, taciturn, laborious, delicate, ingenious, stupid, sad, +good-natured, deceitful, true, learned, ignorant, liberal, avaricious, +and prodigal, just according to the way in which I look at myself; and +whoever studies himself attentively, will find this <i>variety and +discordancy</i> even in his judgment.</p> + +<p>"We are all <i>parts of a whole</i>, and formed of such shapeless, mixed +materials, that every part and every moment does its own work."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451] </a></span></p> + +<p>If, then, we all experience the varied influences of our passions a +hundred times in a lifetime, not to say in every twenty-four hours; if +we are sensible of a thousand physical and moral causes, perpetually +modifying our dispositions, and our words, making us differ to-day from +what we were yesterday; if even the coldest and most stoical +temperaments do not wholly escape from these influences, how could Moore +be surprised that Lord Byron, who was so sensitive and full of passion, +so hardly used by men and Providence, that he should not prove +invulnerable? Moore was not surprised at it in reality, it is true; he +only made-believe to be so, and that because Lord Byron was wanting in +some of those virtues called peculiarly English. Lord Byron had no +superstitious patriotism; he did not love his country through sentiment +or passion, but on duty and principle. He loved her, but justice also! +and he loved justice best. And in order to do homage to truth, he had +committed the fault of saying a host of irreverential truths concerning +that country, and also many individuals belonging to it; consequently he +had made many enemies for himself. Indeed, his enemies might be found in +every camp: among the orthodox, in the literary world, and the world of +fashion, among the fair sex, and in the political world. Moore, for his +part, wished to live in peace with all these potentates,—the warm, +comfortable, and brilliant atmosphere of their society had become a +necessity for him; and wishing also, perhaps, to obtain pardon for his +friend's boldness, he probably thought to conciliate all things by +sparing the susceptibility of the great. Instead, then, of attributing +Lord Byron's severe appreciations to observation, experience, and +serious reflection, he preferred declaring them the result of capricious +and inconsistent mobility. But more just in the depths of his soul than +he was in words, Moore, it is easy to see, felt painfully conscious of +the wrong done to his illustrious friend, and ardently wished to make +his own weakness tally with truth. What was the result? The brilliant +edifice he had raised was so unstable of basis, that it could not stand +the logic of facts and conclusions. While appearing to consider the +excess of this quality as a defect, and calling it dangerous, he was all +the time showing that Lord Byron had strength to overcome any real +danger it contained; he was giving it to be understood that this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452] </a></span> +versatility of intellect might exist without the least mobility of +principle; he made out that mobility was the ornament of his +intelligence, just as he had shown constancy to be the ornament of his +soul. Then, after having reasoned cleverly on this quality, yclept +versatility when applied to the intelligence, and mobility when applied +to conduct; after having shown how predominant it must have been in Lord +Byron through his great impressionability; Moore says that Lord Byron +did yield to his versatile humor, without scruple or resistance, in all +things attracting his mind, in all the excursions of reason or fancy +assuming all the forms in which his genius could manifest its power, +transporting himself into all the regions of thought where there were +any new conquests to make; and that thereby he gave to the world a grand +spectacle, displayed a variety of unlimited and almost contradictory +powers, and finally achieved a succession of unexampled triumphs in +every intellectual field. Then, in order to characterize completely this +quality of Lord Byron, Moore further adds:—</p> + +<p>"It must be felt, indeed, by all readers of that work, and particularly +by those who, being gifted with but a small portion of such ductility +themselves, are unable to keep pace with his changes, that the +suddenness with which he passes from one strain of sentiment to another, +from the gay to the sad, from the cynical to the tender,—begets a +distrust in the sincerity of one or both moods of mind which interferes +with, if not chills, the sympathy that a more natural transition would +inspire. In general, such a suspicion would do him injustice; as among +the singular combinations which his mind presented, that of uniting at +once versatility and depth of feeling was not the least remarkable."</p> + +<p>But, throughout this analysis by Moore, do we see aught save an +intellectual quality? Does it not stand out in relief, a pure, high +attribute of genius? For this to be a defect, it would be necessary +that, leaving the domain of intelligence, it should become mobility, by +entering into the course of his daily life in <i>extraordinary</i> +proportions. And how does it, in reality, enter there? Were his +principles in politics, in religion, in all that constitutes the man of +honor in the highest acceptation of the term, at all affected by it? Did +his true affections, or even his simple tastes, suffer from the varied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453] </a></span> +impresses of his versatile genius? In short, was Lord Byron inconstant? +Moore has sufficiently answered, since all he remarked and said oblige +us to rank <i>constancy</i> among Lord Byron's most shining virtues.<a name="FNanchor_117_117" id="FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> And +as a human heart can not at the same time be governed by a virtue and +its opposite vice, what must we say to those who should persist (for +there are some, doubtless, who will), despite all axioms, in considering +Lord Byron as a changeable, capricious, fickle man? I reply, that Lord +Byron proved, once more, the truth of the observation made by that +moralist, who said: "The most beautiful souls are those possessing the +greatest variety and pliancy," and that he realized in himself, after a +splendid fashion, the moral phenomenon remarked in <i>Cato the Elder</i>, +who, according to Livy, possessed a mind at once so versatile and so +comprehensive, that whatever he did it might be thought he was born +solely for that.</p> + +<p>I will acknowledge, then, the intellectual versatility and the mobility +of Lord Byron, but on condition of their being reduced to their real +proportions; of their being shown as they ever existed in him, that is +to say, under subjection to duty, honor, and feeling. Through his +extreme impressionability, and his power of combining, in the liveliest +manner, the greatest contrasts, through the pleasure he took in +exercising such extraordinary faculties, and in manifesting them to +others, Lord Byron sometimes assumed such an appearance of skeptical +indifference and caprice, that he might almost be said to show a certain +intermission of faculties, and even of ideas. But if his words and +writings are examined, it will be seen that this mobility was only +skin-deep. It might affect his nerves and muscles, but did not penetrate +into his system. It animated his writings occasionally, and oftener his +words, <i>but never his actions!</i> for, if in some rare moments of life, he +abandoned his will to the sway of light breezes, that was only for very +evanescent fancies of youth, in which neither heart nor honor were at +stake. And even then it was rather by word than by deed, as occurred at +Newstead, when he was twenty years of age, and at Venice when he was +twenty-eight. His energetic soul did not, like feebler natures, require +inconstancy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454] </a></span>to awaken it. As to ideas, they were only changeable in +him, when they were by nature open to discussion or <i>accessory</i>; and +they remained floating, until having been elaborated by his great +reason, he could admit them into the small number of such as he +considered chosen and indisputable. Then they found a sort of sanctuary +in his mind, remaining there sacred and unmoved, just like his true +sentiments of heart.</p> + +<p>His mobility, thus limited and circumscribed within due bounds by +unswerving principles and the dictates of an excellent heart, <i>was thus +shorn of all danger</i>, and had for its first result to contribute toward +producing that amiability and that wonderful fascination which he +exercised over all those who came near him. Moore quotes, on this head, +the words of Cooper, who, speaking of persons with a changeful +intellectual temperament, says, that their society "<i>ought to be +preferred in this world, for, all scenes in life having two sides, one +dark and the other brilliant, the mind possessing an equal admixture of +melancholy and vivacity, is the one best organised for contemplating +both.</i>" Moore adds:—"It would not be difficult to show that to this +readiness in reflecting all hues, whether of the shadows or the lights +of our variegated existence, Lord Byron owed not only the great range of +his influence as a poet, but those powers of <i>fascination</i> which he +possessed as a man. This susceptibility, indeed, of immediate +impressions, which in him were so active, lent a charm, of all others +the most attractive, to his social intercourse, and brought whatever was +most agreeable in his nature into play."</p> + +<p>All those who knew him have said the same thing. This charm was the +immediate consequence of his qualities; but they produced another +result, that justice requires to be mentioned. Mobility being united in +him with constancy and the most heroic firmness, added lustre to his +soul through that great difficulty overcome which amounts to virtue. +Moralists of all ages have generally found the virtue of constancy so +rare, that they have said,—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Wait for death to judge a man."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"In all antiquity," says Montaigne, "it would be difficult to find a +dozen men who shaped their lives in a certain steady course which is the +chief end of wisdom."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455] </a></span></p> + +<p>This is true as regards the generality of minds; but to overcome this +difficulty, when one has a mind eager for emotion, variable, with width +and depth capable of discerning simultaneously the for and against of +every thing, and thus being necessarily exposed to perplexity of choice, +it is surely marvellous if a mind so constituted be also constant. Now, +Lord Byron personified this marvel. In him was seen the realization of +that rare thing in nature, intellectual versatility combined with +unswerving principle; mobility of mind united to a constant heart. In +short, to sum up:—He possessed the amount of versatility requisite to +manifest his genius under all its aspects; a degree of mobility most +charming in social intercourse; and such constancy as is always +estimable, always a virtue, and which, united to a temperament like +his,<a name="FNanchor_118_118" id="FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> becomes positively wonderful.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_117_117" id="Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> See the chapter on "Constancy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_118_118" id="Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> See the chapter on "Constancy."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>LORD BYRON'S MISANTHROPY AND SOCIABILITY.</h3> + + +<p>Lord Byron has also been accused of misanthropy. But what is a +misanthrope? Since Lucian, this name has been bestowed on the man who +owns no friend but himself; who looks upon all others as so many rogues, +for whom relatives, friends, country, are but empty names; who despises +fame, and aims at no distinction except that conferred by his strange +manners, savage anger, and inhumanity.</p> + +<p>When those who have known Lord Byron, and studied his life, compare him +to this type, it may well be asked whether such persons be in their +right understanding. The famous tower of Babel, and all the confusion +ensuing, rise up to view.</p> + +<p>The excess of absurdity may give way, however, to some little moderation +in judgment. It will be said, for instance, that there are different +kinds of misanthropy. Lucian's "Timon" does not at all resemble +Molière's "Alceste:" Lord Byron's misanthropy was not like either of +theirs; his was only of the kind that mars sociability, good temper, and +other amiable qualities. In short, we shall be given to understand that +Lord Byron is only accused of <i>having liked solitude too much, of having +shunned his fellow-creatures too much, and thought too ill of humanity</i>.</p> + +<p>But these modifications can not satisfy our conscience. Still too many +reasons of astonishment may be offered to allow us to resist the desire +of adding other facts and indisputable proofs to those already adduced +in the chapter where we examined the nature and limits of his melancholy +at all periods of life, and throughout all its phases.<a name="FNanchor_119_119" id="FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> This chapter +might even suffice as a response to the above strange accusation.</p> + +<p>A better answer still would be found in all the proofs we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457] </a></span> have given of +his goodness, generosity, and humanity. Nevertheless, we think it right +rather to appeal to the patience of our readers; so that they may +consider with us, more especially, one of the peculiar aspects of Lord +Byron's character; namely, his sociability.</p> + +<p>That Lord Byron loved solitude, and that it was a want of his nature who +can doubt? As a child, we know, his delight was to wander alone on the +sea-shore, on the Scottish strand. At school, he was wont to withdraw +from his beloved companions, and the games he liked so well, in order to +pass whole hours seated on the solitary stone in the church-yard at +Harrow, which has been fitly called <i>Byron's Tomb</i>. He himself describes +these inclinations of his childhood in the "Lament of Tasso:"—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Of objects all inanimate I made<br /> +Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers,<br /> +And rocks, whereby they grew, a paradise,<br /> +Where I did lay me down within the shade<br /> +Of waving trees, and dream'd uncounted hours,<br /> +Though I was chid for wandering; and the wise<br /> +Shook their white aged heads o'er me, and said,<br /> +Of such materials wretched men were made."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Arrived at adolescence, he showed so little inclination to mix in +society that his friends reproached him with his over-weening love for +solitude. Amid the gay dissipation of university life, he was often a +prey to vague disquietude. Like the majority of great spirits that had +preceded him at Cambridge,—Milton, Gray, Locke, etc.,—he did not enjoy +his stay there. He even made a satire upon it in his early poems. At a +later period, when he had acquired fame, at the very height of his +triumphs, when he was <i>the observed of all observers</i>, he often caught +himself dreaming on the happiness of escaping from fashionable society, +and getting home; for, like Pope, he greatly preferred quiet reading to +the most agreeable conversation.</p> + +<p>All his life there were hours and days wherein his mind absolutely +required this repose.</p> + +<p>It may, then, truly be said that he loved solitude, and felt a real +attraction for it. But would it be equally just to attribute this taste +to melancholy, and then to call his melancholy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458] </a></span><i>misanthropy</i>? Those who +have deeply studied the nature of a certain order of genius, and the +phases of its development, will discover something very different in the +impulse that attracted the child Byron to the sea-shore in Scotland, and +to the sepulchral stone shaded over by the tall trees of Harrow? They +will see therein, not the melancholy apparent to vulgar eyes, but the +forecast of genius, to be revealed sooner or later, and with a further +promise, in the antipathy shown for the routine of schools, and +especially of the University of Cambridge,—a suffocating atmosphere for +genius, equally uncongenial to Milton, Dryden, Gray, and Locke, who all, +like Lord Byron, and more bitterly than he, exercised their satiric vein +on it. As for the slight attraction he sometimes showed for the world in +his youth—in his seventeenth year—and which the excellent Mr. Beecher +reproached him with, his feelings are too well defined by the noble boy +himself for us to dare to substitute any words of ours in lieu of those +used by him, in justification to his friend.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +Dear Beecher, you tell me to mix with mankind;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I can not deny such a precept is wise;</span><br /> +But retirement accords with the tone of my mind;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I will not descend to a world I despise.</span><br /> +<br /> +Did the senate or camp my exertions require,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ambition might prompt me at once to go forth;</span><br /> +And, when infancy's years of probation expire,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perchance, I may strive to distinguish my birth.</span><br /> +<br /> +The fire in the cavern of Etna concealed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still mantles unseen in its secret recess:</span><br /> +At length in a volume terrific revealed,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh! thus the desire in my bosom for fame<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bids me live but to hope for posterity's praise.</span><br /> +Could I soar with the phoenix on pinions of flame,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With him I would wish to expire in the blaze.</span><br /> +<br /> +For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What censure, what danger, what woe would I brave!</span><br /> +Their lives did not end when they yielded their breath;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their glory illumines the gloom of their grave.</span><br /> +<br /> +Yet why should I mingle in Fashion's full herd?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why crouch to her leaders, or cringe to her rules?</span><br /> +Why bend to the proud, or applaud the absurd,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why search for delight in the friendship of fools?</span><br /> +<br /> +I have tasted the sweets and the bitters of love;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In friendship I early was taught to believe;</span><br /> +My passion the matrons of prudence reprove;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459] </a></span><br /> +To me what is wealth?—it may pass in an hour,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If tyrant's prevail, or if Fortune should frown:</span><br /> +To me what is title? the phantom of power;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To me what is fashion?—I seek but renown.</span><br /> +<br /> +Deceit is a stranger as yet to my soul:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I still am unpracticed to varnish the truth:</span><br /> +Then why should I live in a hateful control?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why waste upon folly the days of my youth? 1806.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Thus it was the desire of fame that then engrossed his whole soul; the +wish of adding some great action to illustrate a name already ennobled +by his ancestors.</p> + +<p>Subsequently, this ardent desire may have become weakened. Alas! he had +been made to pay so dearly for satisfying it. But at the outset of his +career this aspiration after glory, that belongs to the noblest souls, +was the strongest impulse he had,—the one that often made him prefer +the solitary exercise of intelligence to even the usual dissipation of +youth, and when he did yield, like others, he punished himself by +self-inflicted blame and contempt, often expressed in an imprudent, +exaggerated manner.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the paths that lead to glory are various, and trod by +many; which should he choose? Then did he feel the further torment of +uncertainty. His faculties were various, and he was to learn this to his +cost. He was to feel, though vaguely, that he might just as well aspire +to the civic as to the military crown; be an orator in the senate, or a +hero on the field of battle.</p> + +<p>Among all the careers presenting themselves before him, the one that +flattered him least was to be an author or a literary man. But he was +living in the midst of young men well versed in letters. Most of them +amused themselves with making verses. To tranquillize his heart, and +exercise his activity of mind, he also made some, but without attaching +any great importance to them. These verses were charming; the first +flower and perfume of a young, pure soul, devoted to friendship and +other generous emotions. Nevertheless, a criticism that was at once +malignant, unjust, and cruel, fell foul of these delightful, clever +inspirations. The injustice committed was great. The modest, gentle, but +no less sensitive mind of the youth was both indignant and overwhelmed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460] </a></span>at it. Other sorrows, other illusions dispelled, further increased his +agitation, making a wound that might really have become misanthropy, had +his heart been less excellent by nature. But it could not rankle thus in +him, and his sufferings only resulted in making him quit England with +less regret, and throw into his verses and letters misanthropical +expressions, no sooner written than disavowed by the general tone of +cordiality and good-humor that reigned throughout them; and, lastly, by +suggesting the imprudent idea of choosing a misanthrope as the hero of +the poem in which he was to sing his own pilgrimage.</p> + +<p>This necessity of essaying and giving expression to his genius also made +him desire solitude yet more. He found poetic loneliness beneath the +bright skies of the East, where he pitched his tent, slowly to seek the +road to that fame for which his soul thirsted. But when he arrived at +it,—when he became transformed, so to say, into an idol,—did this +necessity for solitude abandon him? By no means.</p> + +<p>"<i>April 10th.</i>—I do not know that I am happiest when alone," he writes +in his memoranda; "but this I am sure of, I never am long in the society +even of her I love—and God knows how I love her—without a yearning for +the company of my lamp and my library. Even in the day, I send away my +carriage oftener than I use or abuse it."</p> + +<p>This desire, this craving for his lamp and his library,—this absence of +taste for certain realities of life,—show affinities between Lord Byron +and another great spirit, Montaigne. One might fancy one hears Lord +Byron saying, with the other:—</p> + +<p>"The continual intercourse I hold with ancient thought, and the ideas +caught from those wondrous spirits of by-gone times, disgust me with +others and with myself."</p> + +<p>He also felt <i>ennui</i> at living in an age that <i>only produced very +ordinary things</i>.</p> + +<p>But whether he felt happy or sad, it was always in silence, in +retirement, and contemplation of the great visible nature, carrying his +thought away to what does not the less exist though veiled from our +feeble sight and intellect; it was there, I say, that his mind and heart +sought strength, peace, and consolation.</p> + +<p>His soul was bursting with mighty griefs when he arrived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461] </a></span> in +Switzerland, on the borders of Lake Leman. He loved this beautiful spot, +but did not deem himself sufficiently alone to enjoy it fully.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"There is too much of man here, to look through<br /> +With a fit mind the might which I behold,"<br /> +</div> + +<p>said he; and he promised himself soon to arrive at that beloved +solitude, so necessary to him for enjoying well the grand spectacle +presented by Helvetian nature; but, he added:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +Nor is it discontent to keep the mind<br /> +Deep in its fountain, lest it over boil<br /> +In the hot throng."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And then he continues:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"I live not in myself, but I become<br /> +Portion of that around me; and to me<br /> +High mountains are a feeling."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Thus, even in the midst of the beloved solitude so necessary to him, +there was no misanthropy in his thoughts or feelings, but simply the +desire of not being disturbed in his studies and reveries. Lord Byron +often said, that solitude made him better. He thought, on that head, +like La Bruyère:—"<i>All the evil in us</i>," says that great moralist, +"<i>springs from the impossibility of our being alone. Thence we fall into +gambling, luxury, dissipation, wine, women, ignorance, slandering, envy, +forgetfulness of self, and of God.</i>" If the satisfaction of this noble +want were to be called <i>misanthropy</i>, few of our great spirits, whether +philosophers, poets, or orators, could escape the accusation. For, with +almost all of them, the taste for retirement and solitude has been +likewise a necessity: a condition without which we should have lost +their greatest <i>chefs-d'œuvre</i>. The biography of the noblest minds +leaves no doubt on this head. But if Lord Byron did not use solitude +like a misanthrope, if he loved it solely as a means, and not as an end, +so that we may even say it was with him an antidote to misanthropy, can +we equally give proof of his sociability? To clear up this point, we +have only to glance at his whole life. For the sake of avoiding +repetition, let us pass over his childhood, so full of tenderness, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462] </a></span>and +ardor for youthful pastimes; his boyhood, all devoted to feelings +affectionate and passionate; his university life, where sociability +seemed to predominate over regular study; the vacations, when it was +such pleasure to act plays, and he was the life of amateur theatres,—a +time that has left behind it such an enthusiastic memory of him, that +when Moore, some years after Lord Byron's death, went to obtain +information about it from the amiable Pigott family, not one member +could be found to admit that Lord Byron <i>had the smallest defect</i>. Let +us also pass over his sojourn at Newstead, when his sociability and +gayety appear even to have been too noisy; and let us arrive at that +period of his life when he began to be called a misanthrope, because he +gave himself that appellation, because real sorrows had cast a shade +over his life, and because, wishing to devote himself to graver things, +his object was to withdraw from the society of gay, noisy companions, +and then to mature his mind in distant travel. He left his native land, +but in company with his friend Hobhouse, a man distinguished for his +intelligence, and who, instead of testifying to his fellow-traveller's +misanthropy, bears witness, on the contrary, to his amiable, sociable +disposition.</p> + +<p>When this friend was obliged to take leave of him in Greece, and return +to England, Lord Byron frequented the society of pleasant persons like +Lord Sligo, Mr. Bruce, and Lady Hester Stanhope, whom he met at Athens, +alleviating his studious solitude by intercourse with them.</p> + +<p>When he also returned to England, after two years of absence, great +misfortunes overwhelmed him. He lost successively his mother, dear +friends, and other loved ones. Not to sink beneath these accumulated +blows, and mistrusting his own strength, he called in to aid him the +society of his friends.</p> + +<p>"My dear Scroope," wrote he, "if you have an instant, come and join me, +I entreat you. I want a friend; I am in utter desolation. Come and see +me; let me enjoy as long as I can the company of those friends that yet +remain."</p> + +<p>Some time after, having attained the highest popularity, and his mind +being soothed by friendship even more than by fame, he entered into the +fashionable society in which his rank entitled him to move.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463] </a></span></p> + +<p>He frequented the world very much at this period, cultivating it +assiduously. A moment even came when he seemed to be completely absorbed +by gayety. Sometimes going to as many as fourteen assemblies, balls, +etc., in one evening. "He acknowledged to me," says Dallas, "that it +amused him." Did not his genius suffer then from the new infatuation? So +courted, flattered, and surrounded by temptations, did not this worldly +life prove too seductive, hurtful to his mind, heart, and independence +of character? Did he draw from the world's votaries his rules of +judgment, his ways of thought? Did he yield when brought in contact with +that terrible <i>English law of opinion</i>? No; Lord Byron was safe from all +such dangers. Amid the vortex in which he allowed himself to be whirled +along, his mind was never idle. In the drawing-rooms he frequented, his +intellectual curiosity found field for exercise. Though so young, he had +already reflected much on human nature in general; but he still required +to study individuals. It was in society that his extraordinary +penetration could find out true character, discover the reality lurking +under a borrowed mask. The great world formed an excellent school to +discipline his mind. There he found subjects for observation that he +afterward put in order, and brought to maturity in retirement.</p> + +<p>"Wherever he went," says Moore, "Lord Byron found field for observation +and study. To a mind with a glance so deep, lively, and varied, every +place, and every occupation, presented some view of interest; and, +whether he were at a ball, in the boxing-school, or the senate, a genius +like his turned every thing to advantage."</p> + +<p>And if <i>salons</i> in general were powerless to exercise any bad influence +over him, this impossibility was still greater with regard to London +<i>salons</i>. Without adopting as exact the picture drawn of them by a +learned academician,<a name="FNanchor_120_120" id="FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> in a book more witty than true, wherein we +read:—"that under pain of passing for eccentric, of giving scandal or +exciting alarm, English people are forbidden to speak of others or +themselves, of politics, religion, or intellectual things or matters of +taste; but only of the environs, the roundabouts, a picnic, a visit to +some ruin, a fashionable preacher, a fox-hunt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464] </a></span> and the rain,—that +never-ending theme kindly furnished by the inconstant climate;" without, +I say, adopting this picture as true, for in England it must be +considered a clever caricature, it is nevertheless certain, that the +discipline of fashionable London <i>salons</i> requires independence of mind +to be in a measure sacrificed. The tone reigning in these <i>salons</i>, +which are only opened during the season, is quite different from that +produced by the open-hearted hospitality which renders English country +residences so very agreeable. Could Lord Byron long take pleasure in the +salons of the metropolis, where every thing is on the surface and noisy, +where one may say that people are content with simply showing +themselves, intending concealment all the while; or where they show +themselves <i>what they are not</i>; where set forms, or a vocabulary of +their own, so far limits allowable subjects of conversation, that fools +may easily have the advantage over clever men (for intellect is looked +upon as suspicious, dangerous, bold, and called an eccentricity). Lord +Byron, so frank, and open-hearted, loving fame, and having a sort of +presentiment that Heaven would not accord him sufficient time to reap +his full harvest of genius, consequently regretting the moments he was +forced to lose; must he not, after seeking amusement in these +assemblies, soon have found that they lasted too long, and were too +fatiguing? Must he not often have well-nigh revolted against himself, +felt something cold and heavy restraining his outburst of soul, +something like a sort of slavery; must he not have understood that it +was requisite for him to escape from such useless pastimes in order to +re-invigorate himself by study, in the society of his own thoughts, and +those of the master-spirits of ages? Yes, Lord Byron did experience all +that. <i>Ennui</i> of the world called him back to solitude. We can not doubt +it, he said so himself:—</p> + +<p>"Last night, <i>party</i> at Lansdowne House; to-night, party at Lady +Charlotte Greville's—<i>deplorable waste of time</i>, and loss of <i>temper, +nothing imparted, nothing acquired</i>—<i>talking without ideas</i>—if any +thing like thought were in my mind, it was not on the subjects on which +we were gabbling. Heigho! and in this way half London pass what is +called life. To-morrow, there is Lady Heathcote's—shall I go? Yes; to +punish myself for not having a pursuit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465] </a></span></p> + +<p>And, elsewhere:—</p> + +<p>"Shall I go to Lansdowne's? to the Berry's? They are all pleasant; but I +don't know, I don't think that <i>soirées</i> improve one."</p> + +<p>He will not go into the world:—</p> + +<p>"I don't believe this worldly life does any good; how could such a world +ever be made? Of what use are dandies, for instance, and kings, and +fellows at college, and women of a certain age, and many men of my age, +myself foremost?"</p> + +<p>Having changed his apartments, he had not yet got all his books; was +reading without order, composing nothing; and he suffered in +consequence. "I must set myself to do something directly; my heart +already begins to feed on itself." He accuses himself of not profiting +enough by time. "Twenty-six years of age! I might and ought to be a +Pasha at that age. '<i>I 'gin to be weary of the sun.</i>'" But let him be +with a clever friend, like Moore, for instance, and, oh! then the +<i>ennui</i> of salons becomes metamorphosed into pleasure for him, without +taking away his clearsightedness as to the world's worth.</p> + +<p>"Are you going this evening," writes he to Moore, "to Lady Cahir's? I +will, if you do; and wherever we can unite in follies, let us embark on +the <i>same ship of fools</i>. I went to bed at five, and got up at nine."</p> + +<p>And elsewhere, after having expressed his disappointment at seeing Moore +so little during the season, he calls London "a populous desert, where +one should be able to keep one's thirst like the camel. <i>The streams are +so few, and for the most part so muddy.</i>"</p> + +<p>And ten years later, in the fourteenth canto of "Don Juan," he said, +speaking of fashionable London society:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Although it seems both prominent and pleasant,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is a sameness in its gems and ermine,</span><br /> +A dull and family likeness through all ages,<br /> +Of no great promise for poetic pages.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XVI.</span><br /> +<br /> +"With much to excite, there's little to exalt;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nothing that speaks to all men and all times;</span><br /> +A sort of varnish over every fault;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A kind of commonplace, even in their crimes;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466] </a></span>Factitious passions, wit without much salt,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A want of that true nature which sublimes</span><br /> +Whate'er it shows with truth; a smooth monotony<br /> +Of character, in those at least who have got any.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XVII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Sometimes, indeed, like soldiers off parade,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They break their ranks and gladly leave the drill;</span><br /> +But then the roll-call draws them back afraid,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And they must be or seem what they were: still</span><br /> +Doubtless it is a brilliant masquerade;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But when of the first sight you have had your fill,</span><br /> +It palls—at least it did so upon me,<br /> +This paradise of <i>pleasure and ennui</i>."<br /> +</div> + +<p>It was thus that he judged what is called the great world, the +fashionable crowd. Yet never having ceased to frequent it, he also might +have said, with Plutarch:—"My taste leads me to fly the world; but the +gentleness of my nature brings me back to it again."</p> + +<p>The best proof, however, of his sociable disposition does not lie in +this fact of his going much to great assemblies, since he submitted to, +rather than sought after that: it consists in the pleasure he always +took in the society of friends, and those whom he loved; in the want of +<i>intimacy</i> which he ever experienced. In such quiet little circles he +was truly himself, quite different to what he appeared in salons. Then +only could he be really known. His wit, gayety, and simplicity were +unveiled solely for friends and intimates. He, so light-hearted, became +serious amid the forced laughter of drawing-rooms; he, so witty, waxed +silent and gloomy amid unmeaning conventional talkativeness. Those who +only saw him in salons, or on fashionable staircases, during the four +years he passed in England, did not really know him; is it surprising +that he should have been wrongly judged? Moore alone has tolerably well +described the agreeable, sociable, gay, kind being Lord Byron was.</p> + +<p>When he quitted England, his sociable disposition did not abandon him, +though his soul was filled with bitterness. He had scarcely arrived at +Geneva, when he became intimate with Shelley. He made him the companion +of his walks, passed whole days and evenings in his society, and that of +his amiable wife. Several London friends came to join him in +Switzerland. In his excursions over the Alps, Lord<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467] </a></span> Broughton (then Mr. +Hobhouse) was always his faithful companion. He frequented and +appreciated then, more than he had ever done before in England, the +society of Madame de Staël at Coppet, because it was there and not in +drawing-rooms that this noble-hearted woman showed herself what she was. +Always attracted by high intellect, he became intimate with Count Rossi, +entertaining so great a sympathy for him, that often when the count was +about to leave him and return to Geneva, Lord Byron retained him by his +entreaties. As to the natives of Geneva, as he detested Calvinism, and +knew that they believed the calumnies wickedly spread abroad against him +by some of his country-people, he did not see them often, for he did not +like them. "What are you going to do in that den of honest men," said he +one day to Count Rossi, who was preparing to leave. On arriving at +Milan, he immediately adopted the style of life usual there. Every +evening he went to the theatre, occupying M. de Breme's box, together +with a group of young and clever men; among them I may name Silvio +Pellico, Abbé de Brême, Monti, Porro, and Stendhal (Beyle), who have all +unanimously testified to his amiability, social temper, and fascinating +conversation. At Venice, he allowed himself to be presented in the most +hospitable mansions of the nobility; particularly distinguishing those +where Countess Albruzzi and Countess Benzoni presided, for he always +went to one or other of these ladies after leaving the theatre. Nor did +he disdain, during the early part of his stay at Venice, even the +official salon of the Comtesse de Goetz. But his aversion for Austrian +oppression and the perfidy of the official press soon obliged him to +withdraw; for the oppressors of Venice, knowing him to be a formidable +enemy, sought to discredit him by spreading all sorts of calumnious +reports against him and his private character.<a name="FNanchor_121_121" id="FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a></p> + +<p>It has been seen in his "Life in Italy" how he divided his time at +Venice, and the impression he made wherever there had not been a +preconceived purpose of judging him unfavorably. In the morning, his +first walk was always directed toward the convent of the Armenian +Fathers, in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468] </a></span>island of San Lazzaro. He went there to study their +language; and these good monks conceived an extreme affection for him. +Afterward he would cross the Laguna going to the Lido, where his stables +were. He was accustomed to ride on horseback with the different friends +who chanced to arrive from England: such as Hobhouse, Monk Lewis, Rose, +Kinnaird, Shelley, and more particularly still with Mr. Hoppner, +Consul-general for England at Venice, a man of the noblest stamp, much +beloved by Lord Byron, and who, in the account he has left of this +intercourse, can not find words adequate for expressing all he wished to +say of the charming social qualities Lord Byron displayed at Venice. +"<i>People have no idea</i>," says he, "<i>of Lord Byron's gayety, vivacity, +and</i> amiability." He followed Italian customs, went every evening to the +theatre, where his box was always filled with friends and acquaintances; +and after that, generally spent the remainder of the evening or night, +according to the then custom of Venice, in the most distinguished +circles of the town, principally at the houses of Countess Albruzzi and +Countess Benzoni, where he was not only welcome, but so much liked, that +these salons were voted dull when he did not appear. Lastly, his social +qualities and amiability gave so much pleasure at Venice, and the +inhabitants were so desirous of keeping him among them, that his +departure for Ravenna actually stirred up malice, quite foreign to the +usual simplicity characterizing Venetian society.<a name="FNanchor_122_122" id="FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a></p> + +<p>The friends who came to see him there,—Hobhouse, Lewis, Kinnaird, +Shelley, Rose, etc.,—succeeded each other at short intervals, and their +arrivals were so many fêtes for him. But while he was leading this +sociable life, vulgar tourists, who had not been able to succeed in +getting presented to him, took their revenge, by repeating in every +direction fables they had gleaned from the gondoliers for a few +pence—viz., that Lord Byron was a misanthrope and hated his countrymen. +Mr. Hoppner, who was an ocular witness of the life which Lord Byron led +at Venice, and whose testimony is so worthy of respect, told Moore how +much annoyance Lord Byron endured from English travellers, bent on +following him everywhere, eyeglass in hand, staring at him with +impertinence or affectation during his walks, getting into his palace +under some pretext, and even penetrating into his bedroom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469] </a></span></p> + +<p>"Thence," says he, "his bitterness toward them. The sentiments he has +expressed in a note termed cynical, as well as the misanthropical +expressions to be found in his first poems, <i>are not at all his natural +sentiments</i>."</p> + +<p>And then he adds that he is very certain "<i>never to have met with in his +lifetime more real goodness than in Lord Byron</i>."</p> + +<p>Moore, also, is indignant at all these perfidious inventions:—</p> + +<p>"Among those minor misrepresentations," says he, "of which it was Lord +Byron's fate to be the victim, advantage was at this time taken of his +professed distaste to the English, to accuse him of acts of +inhospitality, and even rudeness, toward some of his fellow-countrymen. +How far different was his treatment of all who ever visited him, many +grateful testimonies might be collected to prove; but I shall here +content myself with selecting a few extracts from an account given to me +by Mr. Joy, of a visit which, in company with another English gentleman, +he paid to the noble poet, during the summer of 1817, at his villa on +the banks of the Brenta. After mentioning the various civilities they +had experienced from Lord Byron; and, among others, his having requested +them to name their own day for dining with him:—'We availed ourselves,' +says Mr. Joy, 'of this considerate <i>courtesy</i> by naming the day fixed +for our return to Padua, when our route would lead us to his door; and +we were welcomed with all the cordiality which was to be expected from +so friendly an invitation. Such traits of kindness in such a man deserve +to be recorded on account of the numerous slanders heaped upon him by +some of the tribes of tourists, who resented, as a personal affront, his +resolution to avoid their impertinent inroads upon his retirement.</p> + +<p>"'So far from any appearance of indiscriminate aversion to his +countrymen, his inquiries about his friends in England were most anxious +and particular.</p> + +<p>"'After regaling us with an excellent dinner (in which, by-the-by, a +very English joint of roast-beef showed that he did not extend his +antipathies to all John Bullisms), he took us in his carriage some miles +on our route toward Padua, after apologizing to my fellow-traveller for +the separation, on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470] </a></span> the score of <i>his anxiety to hear all he could of +his friends in England</i>: and I quitted him with a confirmed impression +of the strong ardor and sincerity of his attachment to those by whom he +did not fancy himself slighted or ill-treated!'"</p> + +<p>It has been seen elsewhere<a name="FNanchor_123_123" id="FNanchor_123_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a> that Mr. Rose, speaking of Lord Byron's +sociable temper at Venice, said <i>his presence sufficed to diffuse joy +and gayety in the salons he frequented</i>."</p> + +<p>When any worthy persons among his countrymen arrived, his <i>house</i>, his +<i>time</i>, his <i>purse</i> were at <i>their service</i>.</p> + +<p>For further proof, let people only read the details Captain Basil Hall +gave Murray of his intercourse with Byron.</p> + +<p>"<i>His witty, clever conversation</i>," says Shelley, who visited him at +Venice in 1817, "<i>enlivened our winter nights and taught me to know my +own soul. Day dawned upon us, ere we perceived with surprise that we +were still listening to him.</i>"</p> + +<p>When he went from Venice to Romagna, he passed by Ferrara. But though +eager to arrive where his heart summoned him, he did not fail delivering +the letters of introduction given him by friends. At Ferrara he made the +acquaintance of a noble family, and went into society there, speaking of +it afterward in the most flattering manner.<a name="FNanchor_124_124" id="FNanchor_124_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a></p> + +<p>At Ravenna, he frequented all the salons where he was introduced; and at +the request of Count G——, became the <i>cavaliere servente</i> of the young +countess. According to the custom of the country, he accompanied her to +assemblies or theatres, or spent his evenings in her family circle. At +Pisa, he held aloof from the world, because his friends, the Gambas, who +had taken refuge there in consequence of the troubles and political +enmities existing in Romagna, did not wish to mix in society. But he +passed all his evenings regularly with them, either at their house, or +sometimes dispensing hospitality at home with the greatest affability +and kindness.</p> + +<p>"I believe I can not give a better proof of the sociability of Lord +Byron's disposition," says Medwin, "than by speaking of the gayety that +prevailed at his Wednesday dinner-parties at Pisa. His table, when +alone, was more than frugal; but on these occasions, every sort of wine, +and all the delicacies of the season, were served up in grand display, +worthy of the best houses. I never knew any one who did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471] </a></span> the honors of +his house with greater affability and hospitality than Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>"The vivacity of his wit, the warmth of his eloquence, are things not to +be expressed. Could we forget the tone of his voice, or his gesture, +adding charm to all he said?"<a name="FNanchor_125_125" id="FNanchor_125_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a></p> + +<p>At Pisa he generally received in the morning all those who wished to see +him, and among others several of his countrymen, mostly acquaintances or +friends of Shelley, who also went to see him every day. In the afternoon +he rode out on horseback, still followed by his countrymen, and by the +young Count Gamba; amusing himself with them till evening came, in +shooting exercises or in long excursions. We have already said how he +employed his evenings. In fact, he was so seldom alone that people could +not understand how he found time for writing. He did find it, however, +and without subtracting from social intercourse. Nor was it solely +because he composed so rapidly, but likewise because he gave to +occupation the hours that young men are wont to pass in idle, not to say +vicious, amusements. When he went from Pisa to a villa situated on the +hills that overlook Leghorn and the Mediterranean, in order to pass the +great heats of summer there, an American painter, Mr. West, who had been +commissioned by an American society, requested him to sit for his +picture. Lord Byron could not give him much time, and the portrait was +not successful. But Mr. West, who, if not a good artist, possessed a +just and cultivated mind, drew a picture of his moral character as true +as it was flattering,—his pen doing him better service than his +brush:—</p> + +<p>"I returned to Leghorn," says he, "hardly able to persuade myself that +this was the proud misanthrope whose character had ever appeared +shrouded in gloom and mystery. For I never remember having met with +<i>gentler, more attractive manners</i> in my life. When I told him the idea +I had previously formed, what I had thought about him, he was extremely +amused, laughed a great deal, and said, 'Don't you find that I am like +every body else?'"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Rogers thought him better than every body else, for he says:—</p> + +<p>"From all I had observed, I left him under the impression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472] </a></span> that he +possessed an excellent heart, which had been <i>completely misunderstood</i>, +perhaps on account of his mobility and apparent likeness of manner. +Indeed he took a capricious pleasure in bringing out this contrast +between himself and others."</p> + +<p>On quitting Pisa he went to Genoa, and there produced the same +impression on all who saw him until he left for Greece.</p> + +<p>At this last stage of his life, the testimonies as to his amiable, +genial nature are so unanimous, from the time of his arrival to the day +of his death, that we can not refrain from quoting the language used by +some of those who saw him then.</p> + +<p>"When I was presented to him," writes Mr. D—— to Colonel Stanhope, "I +was particularly struck with his <i>extremely graceful and affable +manners</i>, so opposite to what I had expected from the reputation given +him, and which painted him as <i>morose, gloomy</i>, almost <i>cynical</i>."<a name="FNanchor_126_126" id="FNanchor_126_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a></p> + +<p>"I took leave of him," writes Mr. Finlay, who was presented to Lord +Byron at Cephalonia, "quite enchanted, charmed to find a great man so +agreeable."<a name="FNanchor_127_127" id="FNanchor_127_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a></p> + +<p>Colonel Stanhope, afterward Lord Harrington, who had been sent to Greece +by the committee, and who only knew Lord Byron a few months before his +death, notwithstanding great discrepancies of idea and character, says +frankly, <i>that with regard to social relations, no one could ever have +been so agreeable</i>; that there was no pedantry or affectation about him, +but, on the contrary, that he was like a child for simplicity and +joyousness.</p> + +<p>"In the evening all the English, who had not, like Colonel Stanhope, +turned Odyssean, assembled at his house, and till late at night enjoyed +the charm of his conversation. His character <i>so much differed from what +I had been induced to imagine from the relations of travellers</i>, that +either their reports must have been inaccurate, or his character must +have totally changed after his departure from Genoa. It would be +difficult, indeed impossible, to convey an idea of the pleasure his +conversation afforded. Among his works that which may perhaps be more +particularly regarded as exhibiting the mirror of his conversation, and +the spirit which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473] </a></span> animated it, is 'Don Juan.' The following lines from +Shakspeare seem as if prophetically written for him:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"'Biron they call him; but a merrier man,<br /> +Within the limits of becoming mirth,<br /> +I never spent an hour's talk withal:<br /> +His eye begets occasion for his wit;<br /> +For every object that the one doth catch,<br /> +The other turns to a mirth-moving jest;<br /> +While his fair tongue (conceit's expositor)<br /> +Delivers in such apt and gracious words,<br /> +That aged ears play truant at his tales,<br /> +And younger, hearing, are quite ravished;<br /> +So sweet and voluble is his discourse.'"<br /> +</div> + +<p>Millingen says:—</p> + +<p>"His wonderful mnemonic faculties, the rich and varied store with which +he had furnished his mind, his lively, brilliant, and ever-busy +imagination, his deep acquaintance with the world, owing to his +sagacious penetration, and the advantageous position in which, through +his birth and other circumstances, he had been placed, conjoined to the +highly mercurial powers of his wit, rendered his conversation peculiarly +interesting; enhanced, too, as it was by the charm of his fascinating +manners. Far from being the surly, taciturn misanthrope generally +imagined, I always found him dwelling on the lightest and merriest +subjects; carefully shunning discussions and whatever might give rise to +unpleasing reflections. Almost every word with him was a jest; and he +possessed the talent of passing from subject to subject with a +lightness, an ease, and a grace, that could with difficulty be matched. +Communicative to a degree that astonished us, and might not unfrequently +be termed indiscretion, he related anecdotes of himself and his friends +which he might as well have kept secret."</p> + +<p>Several persons, influenced by the stories circulated against Lord +Byron, asked Dr. Kennedy whether his manners and exterior did not give +the idea of a demon incarnate. "Quite the contrary," replied Kennedy, +"<i>his appearance and manners give the idea of a man with an excellent +heart, both benevolent and feeling, and he has an amiable, sympathetic +physiognomy</i>. The impression he made on me was that of a man of refined +politeness and great affability, united to much gayety, vivacity, and +benevolence. His cordial affability even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474] </a></span> went so far that one was often +obliged to recall his rank and fame, in order not to be involuntarily +led away by his manner into too great familiarity with him."<a name="FNanchor_128_128" id="FNanchor_128_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a></p> + +<p>A short time after Lord Byron's death, one of the first English reviews +published an article on him entitled "Personal Character of Lord Byron." +It was written by a personage who had had several occasions, during Lord +Byron's last sojourn in Greece, of observing his habits, feelings and +opinions. Though often jealous of Lord Byron's influence in the country, +nevertheless when he could get rid of these bad feelings, he expressed +himself with tolerable justice:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron's demeanor," says he, "was perhaps the most affable and +courteous I ever met with."</p> + +<p>When he was in a good humor, and desirous to be on fair terms with any +one, there was a great charm, an irresistible fascination in his manner. +Though very gentle, it was always gay, with an air of great frankness +and generosity, qualities most real in him. "Lord Byron," he adds, "was +known for a sort of poetic misanthrope; but that existed much more in +public imagination than in reality. He liked society, and was extremely +kind and amiable, when calm. Instead of being gloomy, he was, on the +contrary, of a very gay disposition, and was fond of jesting; it even +amused him to witness comic scenes, such as quarrels between vulgar +buffoons, to make them drink, or lead them on in any other way to show +their drolleries. In his writings, certainly, he loved to paint a +character more or less the work of his imagination, and which therefore +was assigned to himself by public opinion: that is, a proud, haughty +being, despising all men, and disgusted with the human species. His +liking for bandits and pirates may have sprung from some tendencies of +his nature, some circumstances in his life; <i>but there was not the +smallest resemblance between the poet and the corsair</i>. Lord Byron's +heart was full of kindness and generosity, he took pride in splendid +acts of beneficence: to change the position of some among his +fellow-men, and make them exchange misery for unexpected good fortune, +was for him the dearest exercise of his faculties. No one ever +sympathized more deeply with the joys he could create."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475] </a></span></p> + +<p>The same biographer remarks that one great error of Lord Byron's youth +was to count upon gratitude and devotedness proportionate to his own, +and that most of his accusations against human nature originated with +this mistake. And then he adds:—</p> + +<p>"But his sentiments, in accordance with his nature, far from obeying the +false direction his prejudices and erroneous opinions would have given, +always made him, on the contrary, love his fellow-men with a warmth that +quite excluded misanthropy. Still this natural ardor rendered him +extremely sensitive to neglect from those he loved, especially in early +youth, when he was led by the fault of an individual to generalize blame +against mankind. He relates somewhere, with merited contempt, that one +of his friends would accompany a female relative to her milliner, +instead of coming to take leave of him when he was about to leave +England for a long time. The truth is that <i>no one ever loved his +neighbor as much as Lord Byron</i>. Sympathy, respect, affection, +attention, were perpetual wants with him. He was really disgusted and +sad when they failed him. But then he did not reason much, he only felt +like a poet. It was his business to feed all these discontents, for the +public likes nothing so much in poetry as disdain, contempt, derision, +indignation, and particularly a kind of proud mockery, which forms the +line of transition from or distinguishes a disordered state of +imagination from madness. Consequently, seeing that this sort of tone +pleased the public, when he began to write again he encouraged that +style, his first care being to collect, like Jupiter, the darkest +clouds."</p> + +<p>The same biographer also tries to insinuate that the romantic interest +excited by a handsome young man, full of melancholy and mystery, may +have influenced Lord Byron's choice of heroes in his early poems; for, +says he, it is not every one who can be weary of the most exquisite +enjoyments of society, and to be thus sated a man must have been greatly +prized by beauty and wealth. These reflections and explanations are +arbitrary, and not impartial. But even if Lord Byron, at twenty-one +years of age, did borrow ideas and sentiments not really his, by way of +producing poetic effect, we must nevertheless acknowledge that, even in +this order of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476] </a></span> sentiments, part still were genuine and real. Like all +young men, Lord Byron had entered the world armed with the notions +preceptors deem it necessary to inculcate on their disciples regarding +generosity, disinterestedness, liberty, honor, patriotism, etc. When he +saw that almost all he had thus been taught was mere illusion, a theme +for declamation, and that people in the world very rarely act on such +principles; then, no doubt, with his exquisite sensibility, and elevated +standard of ideal, he must have felt himself more disgusted than any one +else, and must have believed he had a right to despise the human race. +Especially would this have been the case after he had personally +suffered from cruel satire, from the conduct of his relative and +guardian, Lord Carlisle, from the lightness of a few women, and the +lukewarmness of some few friends. But, while owing to this fault in +education, many young men subjected to like trials become sensualists, +and others, convinced of the falsities that have been inculcated on +them, conclude there is no better system of morality than to seek after +place, power, and profit, and become voluntary instruments in the hands +of the world's oppressors, Lord Byron's soul revolted at it. Too noble +by nature to stoop, and confiding also in his genius, he became a poet +with a slight tinge of misanthropy in his mind, but that could never +reach unto his heart, that never modified his amiability in society, and +which at a later period, when experience of life made him reflect more +on the nature of his own sentiments and the weakness of humanity, became +transformed into a sweet philosophy, full of indulgence for every human +defect. This generous disposition is to be found at the base of all his +poems written in Italy.</p> + +<p>Another reproach brought against Lord Byron is that he did not paint the +good side of human nature. People showed as much indignation at this as +if he had betrayed some secret, or calumniated some innocent person. A +wondrous susceptibility, assuredly, with regard to the imperfections of +our common nature, as tardy as strange. One would think, in reading the +reproaches addressed to Lord Byron, that those who made them had quite +forgotten how, from all time and in all languages, since man commented +on man, our poor human nature has not generally been treated with much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477] </a></span> +respect. Putting to one side moralists, and still more pessimists, have +not the Holy Scriptures and all the Fathers of the Church, used the most +mortifying language concerning the perversity and corruption of our +species? As regards complaints and avowals humiliating for our nature, +could there be any more eloquent than those of St. Augustine? Did not +Pascal almost wish man to understand that <i>he is an incomprehensible +monster</i>? Lord Byron would not have called man a <i>monster</i>; but shocked +at his pride he would willingly have said with Pascal, "If he raises +himself, I will lower him; if he abuses himself, I will raise him up." +In his drama of "Cain," where Lucifer is conducting Cain through space +and worlds, "Where is earth?" asks Cain. "'Tis now beyond thee, less in +the universe than thou in it," answers Lucifer. Byron always wished to +make man feel his littleness. It is true that, while saying the same +thing, a notable difference exists between Lord Byron's thought and that +of great Christian souls, who humble man in order to make him see that +his sole hope is in supernatural power. Lord Byron follows the same +road, but his starting-point and his goal are not the same. When Lord +Byron humbles man, it proceeds from a soul-felt want of truth and +justice. He sought truth by a natural law of his mind, expressed it +unflinchingly, and thus yielded a pleasure to his heart and +understanding. But if the impulse that sometimes provoked his severe or +contemptuous words was not the sublime one of Christian orthodoxy, that +sees no remedy for human depravity save in God alone, it was still +farther off from belonging to the school of the pessimists, of La +Rochefoucault in particular, who, content with asserting evil, neither +saw nor sought for a remedy anywhere. Lord Byron never despaired of +mankind. In early youth, especially, he thought,—not like a Utopist, or +even a poet, but like a sensible, humane, generous man, who deems that +many of the evils that afflict his species, morally and physically, +might be alleviated by better laws, under whose influence more goodness, +sincerity, and real virtue might be substituted for the hypocrisy and +other vices that now deprave our nature. Lord Byron saw in many vices +and littlenesses the work of man rather than of nature. It was man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478] </a></span> +corrupted by society, rather than by nature, that he condemned.</p> + +<p>If religious hopes did not furnish him with an escape from the cruel +sentence, philosophical hopes saved him from being overwhelmed by it. +Was that an error?—an illusion? In any case, it was a noble one; +sufficient to raise up an insurmountable barrier between him and La +Rochefoucault. For a time, it is true, in his first youth, he also +seemed to be under the prestige La Rochefoucault exercised over so many +minds, through his "Maxims." The elegant manner in which they were +written, the clever tone of observation they displayed, boldly laying +down the result in the shape of axioms, was well calculated to lead a +youthful mind astray, and make a relative appear an absolute truth. For +a while, Lord Byron also seemed to confound the self-love that merges +into real hateful egotism, with that which constitutes the principle of +life, and which, under the influence of heart and intelligence, claims +the high name of virtue. He seemed to doubt of many things, and to be +uneasy at the best impulses of his heart. We may remember that he +accused himself of selfishness, because he took pleasure in the exercise +of amiable virtues. But then that was only the passing error of a +youthful mind, filled with an ideal of excellence too high for reality; +and therefore coming into rude contact with deceptions and sorrows. In +those days, recalling the fine pictures of life and mankind that had +been presented to him as realities, especially at his first onset, and +perceiving how different things actually were, seeing men pursue their +fellow-men, and ascribe vices to the good and virtues to the bad, not +even finding in his friends the qualities that distinguished his own +heart, indignant at seeing so many persons sought after for their +attractions, despite the vices that defaced them, his soul revolted at +the sight—saddened too—and he exclaimed, sorrowfully, in his +memoranda:—"<i>Yes, La Rochefoucault is right.</i>"</p> + +<p>An illusion might find place in Lord Byron's mind, but it could not +last; and if people will read with attention what he has written, they +will soon understand the great difference existing between him and the +author of the "Maxims." Without even speaking of that which separates +prose from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479] </a></span> poetry, an axiom from a hasty expression, grave from gay, +maxims from satire, the difference is still enormous. Lord Byron had not +received from nature, any more than the author of the "Maxims," the gift +of seeing things in a roseate hue. On the contrary, from his habit of +profound observation, he too often saw them enveloped in sombre colors. +But, on the other hand, he had received such a great gift of +perspicacity and exactness that things false and fictitious could no +more resist his glance than fog can resist the rays of the sun. La +Rochefoucault is certainly an admirable painter, but he never takes a +likeness otherwise than by profile. Just as our satellite turns round +our planet, only showing us its volcanoes and calcined summits, and +leaving us in ignorance of the other side; just so did La Rochefoucault +turn around human nature. It only showed him one side,—the most barren +and most unhealthy, and that alone did he describe. Still, his +description is made with such art and nicety, and has so much charm +about it, that it appears correct at first sight, and, indeed, so it is +relatively; but, nevertheless, by dint of omission and generalization, +it is false, since it would fain impose a part upon us for the whole. In +his voyage of exploration through the windings of the human heart the +author of the "Maxims" stops midway, and comes back over the same +ground. It would appear as if his mind lacked strength to go through +more than half the circle of truth. But Lord Byron, through the vigor +and elasticity of his faculties, after having penetrated into the dark +regions where only evil is perceived, and gone through the whole circle, +raised himself up into that pure, serene atmosphere where goodness and +virtue inhabit, and he also could say, with Dante, coming out of the +last infernal circle,—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Alfin tornammo a riveder le stelle."<br /> +</p> + +<p>La Rochefoucault always rails against mankind, without ever finding out +any good. Lord Byron, on the contrary, sees both good and evil. He +points out the latter, often sadly, and sometimes with light jests; but +he is always happy to acknowledge seriously the existence of good, and +to proclaim that, despite all hinderances, beautiful souls do exist, +practicing all kinds of virtue; thus proving that, however<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480] </a></span> rare, virtue +to him is still a reality, and no illusion. If, in his burlesque, +satirical poems, wishing especially to stigmatize vice in high quarters, +he has painted wicked women and queens (Catherine and Elizabeth), did he +not likewise refresh our souls with the enchanting portraits of +Angiolina (the wife of Faliero), and of Josephine (the wife of Werner). +If he made merry at the expense of coquettish, weak, hypocritical women +(like Adeline, for instance), has he not consoled us by painting, in far +greater number, angels of loving devotedness, like Myrrha, Adah, Medora, +Haidée, and in general all his delightful female creations? Are not all +his heroes even, more or less, constant, devoted, ready to sacrifice +every thing to the sincerity of their feelings—devoted love, continued +even in the heart of Cain toward his Adah? In "Heaven and Earth" the +angels gave up celestial happiness, and exposed themselves to every +evil, in order not to abandon those who loved them. Don Juan himself +loved unselfishly. Bitter remembrances, reflections arising from the +conduct of friends, made him, <i>it is true</i>, doubt the existence of +friendship, generalize, blame sometimes, and write those fine stanzas in +the fourteenth canto of "Don Juan:"—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Without a friend, what were humanity,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hunt our errors up with a good grace?</span><br /> +Consoling us with—'Would you had thought twice!<br /> +Ah! if you had but follow'd my advice!'<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XLVIII.</span><br /> +<br /> +"O Job! you had two friends: one's quite enough,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Especially when we are ill at ease;</span><br /> +They're but bad pilots when the weather's rough,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doctors less famous for their cures than fees.</span><br /> +Let no man grumble when his friends fall off.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As they will do like leaves at the first breeze:</span><br /> +When your affairs come round, one way or 'tother,<br /> +Go to the coffee-house, and take another.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">XLIX.</span><br /> +<br /> +"But this is not my maxim; had it been,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some heart-aches had been spared me: yet I care not—</span><br /> +I would not be a tortoise in his screen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of stubborn shell, which waves and weather wear not;</span><br /> +'Tis better on the whole to have felt and seen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That which humanity may bear, or bear not;</span><br /> +'Twill teach discernment to the sensitive,<br /> +And not to pour their ocean in a sieve.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481] </a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">L.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast,</span><br /> +Is that portentous phrase, 'I told you so,'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Utter'd by friends, those prophets of the past,</span><br /> +Who, 'stead of saying what you now should do,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Own they foresaw that you would fall at last,</span><br /> +And solace your slight lapse 'gainst '<i>bonos mores</i>,'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a long memorandum of old stories."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>On looking into his own heart, Lord Byron no longer doubted the +existence of sincere friendships, devoid of all ironical selfishness, +since he wrote that forty-ninth stanza, where he says that such is not +his maxim, or his heart would have had less to suffer.</p> + +<p>Did he not make love of country incarnate in that admirable type (<i>the +young Venetian Foscari</i>); too fine a type, perhaps, though historical, +to be understood by every one. And did he not, through other types, +equally prove his belief in all the noblest, most virtuous sentiments of +our soul? In fine, if he recognized littleness in man, he recognized +greatness likewise. All his writings, as well as his conduct through +life, belied continuously and broadly a few poetical expressions and +mystifications which drew down upon him, in common with other calumnies, +that of having unjustly accused humanity. As to the misanthropy of his +early youth, it was of so slight a nature that it only passed through +his mind, and occasionally rested on his pen; but it always evaporated +in words, and especially in his verses. For his life and actions ever +showed that such a sentiment was foreign to his nature.</p> + +<p>And since its attacks<a name="FNanchor_129_129" id="FNanchor_129_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> always took place under the pressure of some +great injustice, some excess of suffering imposed by the strong on the +weak and inoffensive, we must also add that there was in this pretended +misanthropy more real goodness and humanity than in all the elegies, +songs, meditations, Messenian odes, etc., of all those who blamed him.</p> + +<p>Having studied Lord Byron at all periods of his life, in his relations +with society, and in his love of solitude, we have seen him alternately +placed in contact with others, and then more directly with himself; now +correcting the inconveniences that flow from solitude, by seeking the +amusements of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482] </a></span> youth and society, and then making solitary meditation +follow on the useful field of observation sought in the world, and thus +he drew profit from both, without ever suffering himself to be +exclusively engrossed by one or the other. The enervating atmosphere of +drawing-rooms remained innocuous for him; he came out from them with a +mind as virile and independent as if he had never breathed it, keeping +all his ideas strong and bold, just and humane, as they were before. But +the consequences of this rare equilibrium, which he was enabled to +maintain between a worldly and a solitary life, were very great, as +regarded his fame, if not his happiness; for he gained thereby an +experience and a knowledge of the human heart quite wonderful, at an age +when the first pages of the Book of Life have in general scarcely been +read, so that, in perusing his writings, one might imagine that he had +already gone through a long career. Lastly, as afterward not the least +trace of this pretended misanthropy remained, he might have repeated +what Bernardin de Saint Pierre said of a certain melancholy that we are +scarcely ever free from in youth, and which was compared, in his +presence, to the small-pox:—"I also have had that malady, but it left +no traces behind it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_119_119" id="Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> See chapter on "Melancholy and Gayety."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_120_120" id="Footnote_120_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> M. Nisard.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_121_121" id="Footnote_121_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_122_122" id="Footnote_122_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_123_123" id="Footnote_123_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_123_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> See chapter on "Gayety and Melancholy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_124_124" id="Footnote_124_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_124_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_125_125" id="Footnote_125_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> Medwin, vol. ii. p. 138.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_126_126" id="Footnote_126_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_126_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> Appendix to Parry's work.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_127_127" id="Footnote_127_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> Ibid. p. 210.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_128_128" id="Footnote_128_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_128_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> See Kennedy.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_129_129" id="Footnote_129_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_129_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> See chapter on "Melancholy."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>LORD BYRON'S PRIDE.</h3> + + +<p>Among Lord Byron's biographers, we remark some who doubtless believed it +useless to count on success, if their work did not contain a large +tribute to human wickedness, and who, seeing it nevertheless impossible +to accuse Lord Byron of any vice emanating from heart or soul, gave +themselves the pleasure of imagining a host of defects. Besides the +faults produced by impetuosity and irritability of temper,—those we +have just explained,—they dwell on I know not what exaggerated esteem +of himself, and immoderate desire of esteem from others, so as to +insinuate that Lord Byron was a prey to pride, ambition, and even +vanity.</p> + +<p>Though all we have remarked in a general way, with regard to his +modesty, might be considered a sufficient response to these accusations, +we are willing to take up the theme again and examine more particularly +all these forms of self-love.</p> + +<p>To assert that Lord Byron was not at all proud, might cause surprise, so +much has been said of his pride confounding the man with the poet, and +the poet with the heroes of his creation. But assuredly those who would +feel surprise could not have known him or studied his character.</p> + +<p>Pride is easily recognized by a thousand traits. It is one of those +serious maladies of soul, whose external symptoms can no more be hidden +from moral psychologists than the symptoms of serious physical +infirmities can be hidden from physiologists. Now, what says the +moralist of the proud man? That he never listens to the counsels of +friendship; that every reproach irritates him; that a proud man can not +be grateful, because the burden is too great for him; that he never +forgives, makes excuses, or acknowledges his faults, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484] </a></span> that he is to +blame; that he is extremely reserved and proud in the habits of social +life; that he is envious of the goods enjoyed by others, deeming them so +much subtracted from his own merits; that hatred toward his rivals fills +his heart; finally, that, satisfied with himself almost to idolatry, he +is incapable of any moral improvement.</p> + +<p>Now, let it be said in all sincerity, what analogy can there be between +the proud man and Lord Byron? By his words, his actions, and the +testimony of all those who approached him, was not Lord Byron the +reverse of all this? Was it he who would have refused the counsels of +friendship? turned aside from admonition? been indignant at blame? Let +those who think so, only read the accounts of his childhood, his youth, +his life of affection, and they will see whether he was not rather the +slave of his loving heart; if he did not always give doubly what he had +received.</p> + +<p>Without even speaking of his childhood, when he was really so charming, +of his docility toward his nurses and preceptors, toward good Dr. +Glennie at Dulwich, and afterward at Harrow, toward the excellent Dr. +Drury; let us consider him at that solemn moment for a boy of eighteen, +when he was about to publish his poetic compositions. Did he not burn +the whole edition, because a friend whom he respected, disapproved some +parts?<a name="FNanchor_130_130" id="FNanchor_130_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a> See him again accepting the blame of another friend about +"Childe Harold," and when, before publishing it, yielding to the advice +of Dallas and Gifford, he suppressed the stanzas that most pleased him. +See him also ceasing to write "Don Juan," because the person he loved +had expressed disapprobation of it, not even substantiated by reasons.</p> + +<p>Was it Lord Byron who would have been incapable of forgiving? Why, the +pardon of injuries was, on the contrary, a habit with him, a necessity, +his sole vengeance, even when such conduct might appear almost +superhuman. It was thus, that when cruelly wounded in his self-love, +even more than in his heart, by Lady Byron's behavior, he wrote that +touching "Farewell," which might have disarmed the fiercest resentment: +and that afterward, yielding to Madame de Staël's entreaties, he +consented to propose a reconciliation, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485] </a></span> was refused: and not even +that aggravation prevented him from often speaking well of Lady Byron.</p> + +<p>Gratitude, that proves such an insupportable load to the proud man, did +it not rather seem a happiness to him?</p> + +<p>When he had done some wrong, far from refusing to make excuses, was he +not the first to think of it, saying that he could not go to rest, with +resentment in his heart? While a mere boy, and when he had been wounded +in his most enthusiastic feelings by a fortunate rival, Mr. Musters, was +not Byron the first to hold out his hand and express regret for the +bitterness of a few words?</p> + +<p>Far from hiding his faults, and not satisfied with avowing them, did he +not magnify them, exaggerate them to such a degree that this generous +impulse became a real fault in him?</p> + +<p>Far from having been too proud and reserved in his habits of life, have +we not seen him reproached with being too familiar?</p> + +<p>Did envy or rivalry ever enter into his soul?</p> + +<p>And lastly, far from conceiving too much self-satisfaction, far from +rendering his own mind the homage characteristic of pride, did not Lord +Byron, looking at himself through the weaknesses of other men, +constantly depreciate himself?</p> + +<p>All the ways in which genius is wont to manifest itself were assuredly +alike familiar to him; neither philosophy nor art had any secrets for +him. But he only made use of them to produce continual acts of humility +instead of pride; saying, that if philosophy were blind, art was no less +incapable of fulfilling the aspirations of mind, and realizing the ideal +beheld in imagination.</p> + +<p>His very skepticism, or rather what has been called by this name, +affords another great proof of his modesty. "Skepticism," says Bacon, +"is the great antagonist of pride."</p> + +<p>But, the most striking proof of all, undoubtedly, consists in the +improvement of his moral being that was perpetually going on; for, to +carry it out, he must have dived into the depths of his secret soul, +sternly and conscientiously, undeterred by the great obstacle to all +self-amelioration, namely—pride.</p> + +<p>So many facts, in support of the same assertions, are to be found spread +through the different chapters of this work,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486] </a></span> that we forbear to +lengthen the present view of Lord Byron's character by adducing any +more. Let us sum up by saying, that not only was Lord Byron devoid of +pride, but that it would be difficult to find in any man more striking +examples of the opposite virtues; unless, indeed, we sought them in +souls completely swayed by the sublimest teachings of Christianity.</p> + +<p>And yet it is easy to understand how he might be accused of pride. His +contempt for opinion, augmenting as he further appreciated its little +worth; a certain natural timidity, of which Moore, Galt, and Pigott have +all spoken, though without drawing thence the logical inferences; his +eagerness to put down the unfounded <i>ridiculous pretensions of human +nature</i>; his own dignity under misfortune; his magnanimity and passion +for independence; all these qualities might easily betray those +superficial minds into error, who do not study their subjects +sufficiently to discover the truth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_130_130" id="Footnote_130_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_130_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> See what Moore says of this trait in Lord Byron.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>THE VANITY OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>But it is incomprehensible that any one should have been found to accuse +Lord Byron of vanity. For is not the vain man one who lies in order to +appear better and more highly gifted than he really is; who knows full +well that the good opinion he so ardently seeks is not what he deserves; +who endeavors by every means to attract the attention of others; who +flatters in order to be flattered; whose willingness to oblige, whose +care and kindness, all flow from interested motives; whose whole +character savors of ostentation and show; and who despises humble +friends, in order to run after brilliant society and wear borrowed +plumes? All these signs indicate vanity. Can a single one be found in +Byron's character?</p> + +<p>Surely our readers will not have forgotten that, for fear of making +himself out better, he always wished to appear worse than he was; that +he exaggerated the weaknesses common to most of us, and which every body +else hides, magnifying them into serious faults; that he never flattered +others, nor wished to be flattered himself; that he concealed the +services he rendered, the good he did; and kept aloof from those in +power so as to give himself more to true friendship.</p> + +<p>We know besides that his love of <i>meriting</i>, rather than <i>obtaining</i>, +admiration, went so far as to make undeserved praise quite offensive to +him. If eulogiums did not seem to him duly bestowed, his soul, athirst +for justice and truth, repelled them indignantly. Blame, or harsh +criticism, annoyed him far less than unmerited praise or suffrages +obtained through favor or intrigue. At the moment he was about to +publish his first poem, "Childe Harold," which might naturally <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488] </a></span>be +expected to prove the making of his literary reputation, Dallas having +given him some advice with a view to gaining popularity, Lord Byron +answered:—</p> + +<p>"My work must make its way as well as it can; I know I have every thing +against me, angry poets and prejudices; but if the poem is a <i>poem</i>, it +will surmount these obstacles, and if <i>not</i>, it deserves its fate."</p> + +<p>And then, when he discovered that his publisher had been taking steps to +obtain the approbation of Gifford, the great critic, he wrote +indignantly to Dallas, calling this proceeding of Murray's <i>a paltry +transaction</i>.</p> + +<p>"The more I think, the more it vexes me," said he. "It is bad enough to +be a scribbler, without having recourse to such shifts to extort praise +or deprecate censure, ... and all without my wish, and contrary to my +express desire....<a name="FNanchor_131_131" id="FNanchor_131_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a></p> + +<p>"I am angry with Murray: it was a bookselling, back-shop, paltry +proceeding.... I have written to him as he never was written to before +by an author, I'll be sworn."</p> + +<p>Why, then, accuse a man of vanity when he never complained of criticism +and never solicited praise? Was it on account of some of his tastes, +particularly the importance he attached to his superiority in boyish +games, in bodily exercises, on those which showed dexterity in swimming, +fencing, shooting? But all these tastes were as manly as they were +innocent. The really trifling tastes common to the youth of his rank and +country Lord Byron did not share.</p> + +<p>It has also been said that he attached far too much importance to his +noble birth. <i>Much</i>, perhaps; <i>too much</i>, by no means. His ancestors +were all illustrious. They were illustrious for their military exploits, +and were already nobles in France when they shared the dangers and +successes of William the Conqueror; they had followed their kings to +Palestine; seven brothers bearing the name of Byron had fought on the +same battle-field, and four fell there in defense of their true +sovereign and their new country. By his mother he was descended from the +kings of Scotland. "Nothing is nobler," says a moralist of our day, +"than to add lustre to a great name by our own deeds."</p> + +<p>Many of his early compositions testify to the desire he felt of +increasing the fame that belonged to his family. For<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489] </a></span> instance, in the +poem written at fourteen, and which is entitled "Verses composed on +leaving Newstead Abbey," after having sung the valor of his ancestors +displayed on the plains of Palestine, in the valley of Crecy, and at +Marston, where four brothers moistened the field with their blood, he +exclaims:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant, departing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu!</span><br /> +Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">New courage, he'll think upon glory and you.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +Far distant he goes, with the same emulation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget.</span><br /> +<br /> +"That fame and that memory still will he cherish;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown:</span><br /> +Like you will he live, or like you will he perish." 1803.<br /> +</div> + +<p>The same sentiments appear in other poems, and particularly in the +"Elegy on Newstead," written at sixteen. His wish of adding fresh lustre +to the family name was all the stronger because the last lord, his great +uncle, had somewhat blemished it by his eccentric conduct.</p> + +<p>But there is a vast difference between this just feeling of pride and +the vanity that leads to exultation in mere titles of nobility, which +often owe their origin to the favor of princes. Besides, although Lord +Byron was aristocratic by birth, and in his every instinct and taste, he +was nevertheless truly liberal on principle and through virtue, in +politics as well as in private life; for he always admitted into his +affections those who possessed fitting qualities of head and soul, +without any consideration of their birth.</p> + +<p>After having studied Lord Byron's character under the headings of pride +and vanity, we must now examine him with regard to ambition: a third +form of self-love, which, though separated from the other two by +scarcely perceptible shades, and even being often confounded with them, +so as to appear one and the same feeling, does not, however, less retain +its permanent and distinguishing traits.</p> + +<p>Was Lord Byron ambitious?</p> + +<p>"Ambitious men must be divided into three classes," says Bacon; "some +seek only to raise themselves, forming a common and despicable species; +others, with like intent, make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490] </a></span> the elevation of country enter into the +means they employ; this is a nobler ambition, one more refined, and +perhaps more violent; lastly, others embrace the happiness and glory of +all men in the immensity of their projects.... Ambition is, then, +sometimes a vice, and sometimes a virtue."</p> + +<p>That Lord Byron's ambition did not range him among either of the two +first classes was abundantly proved by the actions of his whole life; +and as to his writings, letters, or poetic works, we should vainly seek +a single word in them that could be attributed to any low ambition.</p> + +<p>An ambitious man has generally been an ambitious child. Now, according +to unanimous and competent testimony, Lord Byron was not an ambitious +child. The usual emulation founded on ambition had no effect on his +progress. All his advancement proceeded from heart and imagination. It +was his heart, as we have seen, that made him take his pen in hand, that +dictated his first verses; and he was likewise actuated by the need and +the pleasure of trying and exercising the strength of his intellectual +faculties, of keeping up the sacred fire that warmed his breast, and +appeasing his ardent thirst after truth. We have given too many proofs +of all this to require to insist upon it any further.</p> + +<p>We have also seen that it was disagreeable to him to be admired and +praised without having merited it. He felt the same repugnance to +seeking for popularity. When "Childe Harold" appeared, Dallas advised +him to alter some passages, because, he said, certain metaphysical ideas +expressed in the poem might do him harm in public opinion, and that, at +twenty-three years of age, it was well to court in an honorable way the +suffrages of his countrymen, and to abstain from wounding their +feelings, opinions, and even their prejudices.<a name="FNanchor_132_132" id="FNanchor_132_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_132_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a> Lord Byron +replied:—</p> + +<p>"I feel that you are right, but I also feel that I am sincere, and that +if I am only to write <i>ad captandum vulgus</i>, I might as well edit a +magazine at once, or concoct songs for Vauxhall."<a name="FNanchor_133_133" id="FNanchor_133_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_133_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a></p> + +<p>And yet when he wrote thus to Dallas he had not arrived at any +popularity.</p> + +<p>Soon, however, it came to him unsought; but he did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491] </a></span> appreciate it +nor flatter it to stay, as an ambitious man would not have failed to do. +On the contrary, his noble independence of character and incapacity for +flattering the multitude gained strength every day. Proofs of the same +abound at every period of his life.</p> + +<p>"If I valued fame," he said in his memoranda, 1813, "I should flatter +received opinions, which have gathered strength by time, and which will +last longer than any living works that are opposed to them. But, for the +soul of me, I can not and will not give the lie to my own thoughts and +doubts, come what may. If I am a fool, I am, at least, a doubting one; +and I envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom."</p> + +<p>And then, at the same time, he wrote:—</p> + +<p>"If I had any views in this country they would probably be +parliamentary. But I have no ambition; at least, if any, it would be +'<i>aut Cæsar aut nihil</i>.' My hopes are limited to the arrangement of my +affairs, and settling either in Italy or in the East (rather the last), +and drinking deep of the language and literature of both."</p> + +<p>The catastrophe that overtook Napoleon, his hero, and the success of +fools, quite overcame him at this time:—</p> + +<p>"Past events have unnerved me, and all I can now do is to make life an +amusement and look on while others play. After all, even the highest +game of crosses and sceptres, what is it? <i>Vide</i> Napoleon's last +twelvemonth," etc., etc.</p> + +<p>The following year (1814), when political feeling ran so high against +him as to threaten his popularity on account of the lines addressed to +the Princess Charlotte, which had offended the regent, who had just gone +over from the Whigs to the Tories, Byron wrote to Rogers:—</p> + +<p>"All the sayings and doings in the world shall not make me utter one +word of conciliation to any thing that breathes. I shall bear what I +can, and what I can not I shall resist. The worst they could do would be +to exclude me from society. I have never courted it, nor, I may add, in +the general sense of the word, enjoyed it—and 'there is a world +elsewhere.'"</p> + +<p>When once he had quitted England his indifference to popularity and its +results further increased. He wrote from Venice to Murray:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I never see a newspaper, and know nothing of England, except in a +letter now and then from my sister" (1816).</p> + +<p>But that did not at all suit his publisher, who set about sending him +reviews, criticisms, and keeping him up to all that was going on in the +literary and political world, thinking thus to stimulate and keep alive +the passions that kindle genius. Then it was that Lord Byron, +considering this intellectual régime unwholesome for mind and heart, +signified to Murray that their correspondence could not continue unless +he consented to <i>six</i> indispensable conditions. We regret not being able +to give the whole of this beautiful letter, circumscribed as we are by +certain necessary limits. Thus we shall only quote what more +particularly relates to our subject:<a name="FNanchor_134_134" id="FNanchor_134_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a>—</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking over our late correspondence, and wish to propose +to you the following articles for our future:—</p> + +<p>"1st. That you shall write to me of yourself, of the health, wealth, and +welfare of all friends; but of <i>me (quoad me) little or nothing</i>.</p> + +<p>"2dly....</p> + +<p>"3dly....</p> + +<p>"4thly. That you send me no periodical works whatsoever, no 'Edinburgh,' +'Quarterly,' 'Monthly,' or any review, magazine, or newspaper, English +or foreign, of any description.</p> + +<p>"5thly. That you send me no opinion whatsoever, either <i>good</i>, <i>bad</i>, or +<i>indifferent</i>, of yourself, or your friends, or others, concerning any +work of mine, past, present, or to come.</p> + +<p>"6thly.... If any thing occurs so violently gross or personal as +requires notice, Mr. Kinnaird will let me know; but of praise I desire +to hear nothing.</p> + +<p>"You will say, 'To what tends all this?' I will answer—to keep my mind +free, and unbiased by all paltry and personal irritabilities of praise +or censure; to let my genius take its natural direction. All these +reviews, with their praise or their criticism, have bored me to death, +and taken off my attention from greater objects."</p> + +<p>Byron wished, he said, to place himself in the position of a dead man, +knowing nothing and feeling nothing of what is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493] </a></span> done and said about +him.<a name="FNanchor_135_135" id="FNanchor_135_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_135_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a> At the same time he gave the greatest proof of the reality of +the sentiments expressed in this letter by continuing to stay at +Ravenna, where people were ignorant of his language, his genius, and his +reputation, and where consequently he could only be remarked and +appreciated for his external gifts and his deeds of benevolence. When he +went from Ravenna to Pisa, Murray, who had not been discouraged by the +six conditions, and who was really attached to Lord Byron more as a +friend even than as a publisher, became alarmed at the angry feeling +stirred up by "Cain," the "Vision of Judgment," "Don Juan," etc., and +feared seeing him lose his popularity. So he wrote begging him to +compose something in his first style, which had excited such general +enthusiasm. But Lord Byron answered:—</p> + +<p>"As to 'a poem in the old way,' I shall attempt of that kind nothing +further. I follow the bias of my own mind, without considering whether +women or men are or are not to be pleased."</p> + +<p>His whole conduct in Greece was one long act of abnegation, of +disinterested and sublime self-devotion. Let people read Parry, Gamba, +even Stanhope.<a name="FNanchor_136_136" id="FNanchor_136_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_136_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> He sacrificed for Greece all his revenue, his time, +pleasures, comforts, even life itself, if necessary, and at the age of +thirty-five; and then, after success, he refused every honor, satisfied +with having deserved them.</p> + +<p>"My intentions with regard to Greece," said he to Parry, at Missolonghi, +"may be explained in a few words. I will remain here until Greece either +throws off the Turkish yoke, or again sinks beneath it. All my revenue +shall be spent in her service. All that can be done with my resources, +and personally, I will do with my whole heart. But as soon as Greece is +delivered from her external enemies, I will leave without taking any +part in the interior organization of the government. I will go to the +United States of America, and there, if requisite and they like it, be +the agent for Greece, and endeavor to get that free and enlightened +government to recognize the Greek federation as an independent State. +England would follow her example, and then the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494] </a></span> destiny of Greece would +be assured. She would take the place that belongs to her as a member of +Christendom in Europe."</p> + +<p>One day, at Missolonghi, a Prussian officer came to complain to Lord +Byron, saying, that his <i>rank</i> would not allow him to remain under +command of Mr. Parry, who was his inferior both in a civil and military +capacity, and consequently that he was going to retire. After having +done all he could to bring the German to more reasonable sentiments, +after having even joked him on his quarterings of nobility, and the +folly of wishing to introduce such prejudices into a country like +Greece, Lord Byron did not scruple adding:—</p> + +<p>"As to me, I should be quite willing to serve as a simple soldier, in +any corps, if that were considered useful to the cause."</p> + +<p>But if Lord Byron's absence of ambition under the two first categories, +as established by Bacon, is well proved; the same can not be said with +regard to the third. To deny it would be not only contrary to truth, but +especially would it be contrary to all justice; for the third order of +ambition ceases to be a fault; it is the love of glory, and, according +to Bacon, that is a virtue. At least it is a quality pertaining to noble +minds; and could it, then, be wanting in Lord Byron? He had always had a +presentiment that glory would not fail him. But he was not satisfied +with obtaining it, his special wish was to <i>deserve</i> it with just and +undeniable right. While yet a child in his fourteenth year, he wrote, in</p> + +<p><span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 6em;"><b>A Fragment.</b></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +"When to their airy hall my fathers' voice<br /> +Shall call my spirit<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +Oh! may my shade behold no sculptured urns<br /> +To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!<br /> +No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone;<br /> +My epitaph shall be my name alone:<br /> +If <i>that</i> with honor fail to crown my clay,<br /> +Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay!<br /> +<i>That</i>, only <i>that</i>, shall single out the spot;<br /> +By that remember'd, or with that forgot."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Another time, replying in verse to a poetic composition of one of his +comrades which spoke of <i>the common lot of mortals as lying in Lethe's +wave</i>, Lord Byron, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495] </a></span>after some charming couplets, ends thus:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"What, though the sculpture be destroy'd,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From dark oblivion meant to guard;</span><br /> +A bright renown shall be enjoy'd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By those whose virtues claim reward.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Then do not say the common lot<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of all lies deep in Lethe's wave;</span><br /> +Some few, who ne'er will be forgot,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall burst the bondage of the grave."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Several other compositions belonging to the same period prove that this +child, who was so unambitious, and devoid of the usual sort of +emulation, did, however, desire to excel in great and virtuous things. +In his adieu to the seat of his ancestors, he says, that,—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Far distant he goes, with the same emulation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget.</span><br /> +That fame, and that memory still will he cherish;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown;</span><br /> +Like you will he live, or like you will he perish."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And when the Rev. Mr. Beecher, his friend and guide during the college +vacation passed at Southwell, reproached him with not going enough into +the world, young Byron answered, that retirement suited him better, but +that when his boyhood and years of trial should be over, if the senate +or the camp claimed his presence, he should endeavor to render himself +worthy of his birth:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Oh! thus, the desire in my bosom for fame<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bids me live but to hope for posterity's praise;</span><br /> +Could I soar with the phoenix on pinions of flame,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With him I could wish to expire in the blaze."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>But the fame to which he aspired was not literary fame. Garlands weaved +on Mount Parnassus had no perfume for him, and to seek after them would +have appeared in his eyes a frivolous, unmeaning pastime. This severe +and unjust judgment, this sort of antipathy, could they have been a +presentiment of the dangers with which the glory obtained by literary +fame threatened his repose? However that may be, it is certain that he +endured rather than sought after it; and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496] </a></span>we may be equally sure that +the glory to which his soul aspired was such as could be reaped in the +senate, the camp, or amid the difficulties of an active, virtuous life. +At sixteen he wrote:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What censure, what danger, what woe would I brave!</span><br /> +Their lives did not end when they yielded their breath;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their glory illumines the gloom of their grave." 1806.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>We find the following in his examination of conscience, written when he +was given up to fashionable London life, and in the heyday of his poetic +fame:—</p> + +<p>"To be the first man—not the dictator, not the Sylla, but the +Washington or the Aristides—the leader in talent and <i>truth</i>—is next +to the Divinity!" (1813.)</p> + +<p>These lines show that he did not feel himself in the position he could +have wished to occupy, and that he would fain have achieved other +success.</p> + +<p>But the destiny that was evidently contrary to his tastes, and which +through a thousand circumstances carried him away both from a military +and a parliamentary career, to keep him almost perforce in the high +walks of literature, was this destiny in accordance at least with his +nature? Lord Byron's brilliant début in the senate, and his whole +conduct in Greece when that country was one great military camp, prove +certainly that he might have reaped full harvest in other fields, if +fate had so allowed. But nevertheless when we see how prodigious were +his achievements, concentrated within the domain of poetry; when we see +that, despite himself, despite the resolution he occasionally took of +writing no more, that yet, tortured by the energy of his genius, there +was no remedy for him but to seize his pen; that he wrote sometimes +under the influence of fever; that sleep did not still his imagination, +nor travelling interrupt his works; that sorrow did not damp his ardor, +nor amusement and pleasure weaken his wondrous energy. When we think +that he united to this formidable vigor of genius such a luxuriant +poetic vein; that his poems, unrivalled for depth of thought, +conciseness, and magic beauty of style, were composed with all the ease +of ordinary prose; that he could write them while conversing, interrupt +his thread of ideas, and take it up again without difficulty, carry on +his theme without previous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497] </a></span> preparation, not stay his pen except to turn +the leaf, not change a single word in whole pages, generally only +correcting when the proof-sheets came. When we know that a poem like the +"Bride of Abydos" was written in four nights of a London season, the +"Corsair" in ten days, "Lara" in three weeks, his fourth Canto of +"Childe Harold" in twenty days, the "Lament of Tasso" in the space of +time requisite for going from Ferrara to Florence; the "Prisoner of +Chillon" by way of pastime during the day bad weather forced him to +spend at a hotel on the borders of the Lake of Geneva; when we know that +he wrote the "Siege of Corinth" and "Parisina" amid the torments caused +by his separation, and when besieged with creditors; that at Ravenna, in +the space of one year, while torn by many sorrows, and annoyed by +conspiracies, though he generously aided the conspirators, he yet found +leisure to write "Marino Faliero," the "Foscari," "Sardanapalus," +"Cain," the "Vision of Judgment," and many other things; that the fifth +act of "Sardanapalus" was the work of forty-eight hours, and the fifth +act of "Werner" of one night; that during another year passed between +Pisa and Genoa, in the midst of annoyances, sorrows, perpetual changes, +he wrote ten cantos of "Don Juan," his admirable mystery of "Heaven and +Earth," his delightful poem of the "Island," the "Age of Bronze," etc. +When we see all that, it must be acknowledged that if Lord Byron, in +devoting himself to poetry, took a false step for his own happiness, it +did not mar the manifestation of his genius. But if the world had cause +to applaud, he did not share this sentiment. It might almost be said +that he always wrote unwillingly; and certainly it may be added that +fame never inspired him with vanity. That noble desire might, doubtless, +have made his heart beat for a while, but it yielded to his +philosophical spirit. If at twenty-six, being repelled from public +business by the political bias of the day, and from a military career by +other circumstances, he could write in his memoranda "I am not +ambitious," how much more disposed did he feel to renounce every kind of +ambition two years later, when he was leaving England, full of disgust, +and having sounded all the depths of the human soul.</p> + +<p>"The wise man is cured of ambition by ambition itself,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498] </a></span> says La +Bruyère; "he tends toward such great things that he can not confine +himself to what are called treasures, high posts, fortune, and favor. He +sees nothing in such poor advantages <i>good</i> or <i>solid</i> enough to fill +<i>his heart</i>, to deserve his cares and desires; and it even requires +strong efforts for him not to disdain them too much. The only good +capable of tempting him is that sort of fame which ought to be the meed +of pure, simple virtue; but men are not wont to give it, and he is fain +to go without it."</p> + +<p>The only advantage Lord Byron wished to derive from his reputation was +to render it subservient to his heart—the true focus of his noble +existence. Even in the first days of youth, when his pulses beat +strongly for glory, it is evident that he would make it tributary to +heart—a means rather than an end. But this became more and more +conspicuous when he had really attained to fame. In Italy especially he +had become quite indifferent to the pompous praise accorded by reviews, +while a single word emanating from the heart made an impression on him, +ofttimes causing tears to start. He wrote to Moore from Ravenna, in +1821:—</p> + +<p>"I have had a curious letter to-day from a girl in England (I never saw +her), who says she is given over of a decline, but could not go out of +the world without thanking me for the delight which my poesy for several +years, etc., etc., etc. It is signed simply N.N.A., and has not a word +of 'cant' or preachment in it upon my opinions. She merely says that she +is dying, and that, as I had contributed so highly to the pleasure of +her existence, she thought that she might say so, begging me to <i>burn</i> +her <i>letter</i>—which, by the way, I can <i>not</i> do, as I look upon such a +letter in such circumstances as better than a diploma from Gottingen.</p> + +<p>"I once had a letter from Drontheim, in Norway (but not from a dying +woman), in verse, on the same score of gratulation. These are the things +which make one at times believe one's self a poet."<a name="FNanchor_137_137" id="FNanchor_137_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_137_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a></p> + +<p>And in "Detached Thoughts," which he wrote at Ravenna, we find:—</p> + +<p>"A young American, named Coolidge, called on me not many months ago. He +was intelligent, very handsome, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499] </a></span> not more than twenty years old, +according to appearance; a little romantic—but that sits well upon +youth—and mighty fond of poesy, as may be suspected from his +approaching me in my cavern. He brought me a message from an old servant +of my family (Joe Murray), and told me that he (Mr. Coolidge) had +obtained a copy of my bust from Thorwaldsen at Rome, to send to America. +I confess I was more flattered by this young enthusiasm of a solitary +trans-Atlantic traveller, than if they had decreed me a statue in the +Paris Pantheon (I have seen emperors and demagogues cast down from their +pedestals even in my own time, and Grattan's name razed from the street +called after him in Dublin); I say that I was more flattered by it, +because it was <i>simple, unpolitical, and was without motive or +ostentation</i>, the pure and warm feeling of a boy for the poet he +admired."</p> + +<p>The lines written on the road between Ravenna and Pisa, scarcely two +years before his death, beginning with—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>would alone suffice to prove that his love of fame had both its source +and its sole gratification in his heart. These charming verses end +thus:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">III.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Oh <span class="smcap">Fame</span>!—if I e'er took delight in thy praises,<br /> +'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,<br /> +Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover<br /> +She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">IV.</span><br /> +<br /> +"<i>There</i> chiefly I sought thee, <i>there</i> only I found thee:<br /> +Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee:<br /> +When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story,<br /> +I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Some days before setting out for Genoa, while walking in the garden with +Countess G——, he went into a retrospective view of his mode of life in +England. She, on hearing how he passed his time in London, perceiving +what an animated existence it was, so full of variety and occupation, +showed some fears lest his stay in Italy, leading such a peaceful, +retired, concentrated sort of life, away from the political arena +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500] </a></span>presented by his own country, might entail too great a sacrifice +offered on the altar of affection. "Oh no," said he, "I regret nothing +belonging to that great world, where all is artificial, where one can +not live to one's self, where one is obliged to be too much occupied +with what others think, and too little with what we ought to think +ourselves. What should I have done there? Made some opposition speeches +in the House of Lords, that would not have produced any good, since the +prevailing policy is not mine. Been obliged to frequent, without +pleasure or profit, society that suits me not. Have had more trouble in +keeping and expressing my independent opinions. I should not have met +you.... Ah, well! I am much better pleased to know you. What is there in +the world worth a true affection? Nothing. And if I had to begin over +again, I would still do what I have done." When Lord Byron thus unfolded +the treasures concealed in his heart, his countenance spoke quite as +much as his words.</p> + +<p>It was at this same period that he wrote in his drama of "Werner:"—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">"Glory's pillow is but restless,</span><br /> +If love lay not down his cheek there."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And now to sum up, let us say that, after having considered Lord Byron +not only in his actions, and their most apparent motives; not only in +the exercise of all his faculties, and in his sentiments sincerely +expressed, but that, having likewise confronted him with all the forms +of self-love, it is impossible for us to see aught else in him but that +legitimate pride belonging to great souls, and the noble passion for +glory—sentiments united in him with the peculiar feature of being under +control of his affections. Thus, then, when the day came that he was +called upon to sacrifice his affections, not only in the name of +humanity, but also in the name of his love for glory, which was already +a virtue, since he only desired and sought it to become a benefactor of +mankind; then, by this new sacrifice, and by that even of life, his +noble passion for glory attained to the height of a sublime virtue.</p> + +<p>Although our impartial examination of Lord Byron's faults end really in +demonstrating their absence, let us beware nevertheless of raising him +above humanity by asserting that he had none. La Bruyère thus sums up +his portrait<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501] </a></span> of the great Condé:—"<i>A man who was true, simple, and +magnanimous, and in whom only the smallest virtues were wanting.</i>" This +fine sentence may partly apply to Lord Byron also. Only, to be just, we +must substitute the singular for the plural. And instead of declaring +that the lesser virtues were wanting in him, we must say <i>one</i> of the +smaller virtues. In truth, he had not that prudence which proposes for +our supreme end the preservation of our prosperity, fortune, popularity, +tranquillity, health—in a word, of all our goods—and which constitutes +Epicurean wisdom. But this virtue is really so mixed up with personality +and egotism, that one may hesitate ere granting it the rank of a virtue; +and we ought not to be astonished if it were wanting in Lord Byron, for +it can with difficulty be found united to great sensibility of heart and +great generosity of character. Nevertheless, had he possessed it, his +life might have been much happier. Had he possessed it, instead of +devoting his revenue and all his literary gains to friends, disappointed +authors, and unfortunates of all kinds, he would have kept them for +himself; and thus he might have been able to brave almost all the storms +of his sad year of married life, when his annoyances were greatly +increased by the embarrassed state of his affairs. Had he possessed this +prudence, he would not in his boyish satire have attacked so many +powerful persons, nor, at a later period, would he have made to himself +idols of truth and justice. He would have spared the powers that be, and +respected national prejudices, in order not to draw down on his own head +so much rancor and calumny; he would not have given a hold to slander, +nor suffered himself to be insulted by being identified with the heroes +of his poems; he would not have compromised his fine health by an +anchorite's regimen; he would not have depreciated himself; he would +have extended to himself the indulgence with which he knew so well how +to cloak the faults of others, and instead of confiding to indiscreet +companions, as subjects for curiosity and study, adventures somewhat +strange, and the usual routine of juvenile follies, he would have +profited by the system so current in our day of satisfying inclinations +silently and covertly; lastly, and above all, he would not have married +Miss Milbank.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502] </a></span></p> + +<p>All these reproaches are well founded. But if we may say with reason +that he wanted prudence for his own interests, we ought at the same time +to <i>add that he never wanted it for the interests of others</i>. Did we not +see him, even in earliest youth, burn writings, or abstain from writing, +through excess of delicacy and fear of wounding his neighbors?</p> + +<p>"I have burned my novel and my comedy," said he in 1813. "After all, I +see that the pleasure of burning one's self is as great as that of +printing. These two works ought not to have been published. I fell too +much into realities; some persons would have been <i>recognized</i>, and +others <i>suspected</i>."</p> + +<p>When he sent Murray his stanzas to the Po, he forbade him to print it, +because it gave intimate details.</p> + +<p>His greatest fear at Pisa and Genoa was lest the newspapers should have +spoken of his feelings for the Countess G——.</p> + +<p>But without seeking other examples, it suffices to glance at his conduct +in Greece, where his prudence formed matter of astonishment to every +body. Monsieur Tricoupi, the best historian of the war of Greek +independence, has rendered him the most complete justice on this head.</p> + +<p>Let us then sum up by saying that, contrary to what is found in most, +even virtuous men, Lord Byron possessed great and sublime virtues in the +highest degree, and the lesser ones only in a secondary degree. As to +his faults, it is evident they all sprang from his excellent qualities. +Endowed with all kinds of genius, except the one of calculating his +personal interest, he failed in different ways to discharge his duty +toward himself; and though he only harmed himself by his want of +prudence, yet was he cruelly punished for it by sorrows, regrets, and +even by a fatally premature death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_131_131" id="Footnote_131_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> Letter 68, to Dallas, 17th September, 1811.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_132_132" id="Footnote_132_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_132_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> Dallas, Letter 45.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_133_133" id="Footnote_133_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_133_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> Lord Byron to Dallas, Letter 66; Moore, vol. ii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_134_134" id="Footnote_134_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_134_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> See Moore, Letter 456.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_135_135" id="Footnote_135_135"></a><a href="#FNanchor_135_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> See Moore, Letter 456 (Ravenna, 24th September, 1821).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_136_136" id="Footnote_136_136"></a><a href="#FNanchor_136_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_137_137" id="Footnote_137_137"></a><a href="#FNanchor_137_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> Letter 436, Moore.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>LORD BYRON'S MARRIAGE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.</h3> + + +<p>Lord Byron's marriage exercised such a deplorable influence over his +destiny, that it is impossible to speak of it succinctly, and without +entering into details; for this one great misfortune proved the fruitful +source of all others.</p> + +<p>If we were permitted to believe that Providence sometimes abandons men +here below to the influence of an evil genius, we might well conceive +this baneful intervention in the case of Lord Byron's conjugal union, +and all the circumstances that led to it.</p> + +<p>It was but a few months after having returned from his travels in the +East, that Lord Byron published his first cantos of "Childe Harold," and +obtained triumphs as an orator in the House of Lords. Presenting himself +thus for the first time to the public, surrounded by all the prestige +belonging to a handsome person, rank, and youth,—in a word, with such +an assemblage of qualities as are seldom if ever found united in one +person—he immediately became the idol of England. The enemies created +by his boyish satire, and augmented by the jealousy his success could +not fail to cause, now hid themselves like those vile insects that slink +back into their holes on the first appearance of the sun's rays, ready +to creep out again when fogs and darkness return. Living then in the +midst of the great world, in the closest intimacy with many of the fair +sex, and witnessing the small amount of wedded happiness enjoyed by +aristocratic couples within his observation, intending also to wing his +flight eventually toward climes more in unison with his tastes, he no +longer felt that attraction for marriage which he had experienced in +boyhood (like most youths), and he said, quite seriously, that if his +cousin, George Byron, would marry, he, on his part, would willingly +engage not to enter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504] </a></span> into wedlock. But his friends saw with regret that +his eyes were still seeking through English clouds the blue skies of the +East; and that he was kept in perpetual agitation by the fair ones who +would cast themselves athwart his path, throwing themselves at his head +when not at his feet. Vainly did he distort himself, give himself out to +the public as a true "Childe Harold," malign himself; his friends knew +that his heart was overflowing with tenderness, and they could not thus +be duped. If he had wished to cull some flowers idly, for the sake of +scattering their leaves to the breeze, as youth so often does, this sort +of amusement would have been difficult for him, for the fine ladies of +his choice, if once they succeeded in inspiring him with some kind of +tender feeling, fastened themselves upon him in such a passionate way +that his freedom became greatly shackled, and they generally ended by +making the public the confidante of their secret.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron had some adventures that brought him annoyance and grief. +They made him fall into low spirits,—a sort of moral apathy and +indifference for every thing. His best friends, and the wisest among +them, thought that the surest way of settling him in England, and +getting him out of the scrapes into which he was being dragged by female +enthusiasm, would be for him to marry, and they advised him to it +pertinaciously. Lord Byron, ever docile to the voice of affection, did +not repel the counsels given, but he made them well understand that he +should marry from reason rather than choice; and the letter he wrote, +when Moore insisted on his choosing a certain beautiful girl of noble +birth,<a name="FNanchor_138_138" id="FNanchor_138_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_138_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> well explains his whole state of mind at this time:—</p> + +<p>"I believe," said he, "that you think I have not been quite fair with +that Alpha and Omega of beauty with whom you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505] </a></span> would willingly have +united me. Had Lady —— appeared to wish it, I would have gone on, and +very possibly married with the same indifference which has frozen over +the Black Sea of almost all my passions. It is that very indifference +which makes me so uncertain and apparently capricious. It is not +eagerness of new pursuits, but that nothing impresses me <i>sufficiently</i> +to fix. I do not feel disgusted, but simply indifferent to almost all +excitements; and the proof of this is that obstacles, the slightest +even, stop me. This can hardly be timidity, for I have done some +imprudent things, too, in my time; and in almost all cases opposition is +a stimulus. In this circumstance it is not; if a straw were in my way I +could not stoop to pick it up. I have sent you this long tirade, because +I would not have you suppose that I have been trifling designedly with +you or others. If you think so, in the name of St. Hubert (the patron of +antlers and hunters) <i>let me be married out of hand, I don't care to +whom</i>, so it amuses any body else, and don't interfere with me much in +the daytime."</p> + +<p>But that to which Lord Byron most aspired was always to wing his flight +to brighter skies.</p> + +<p>"Your climate kills me," he wrote to Hodgson, directly after his return +from the East. And then again, "My inclinations and my health make me +wish to leave England; neither my habits nor constitution are improved +by your customs or your climate. I shall find employment in making +myself a good Oriental scholar. I shall buy a mansion in one of the +fairest islands, and describe, at intervals, the most interesting +portions of the East."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron wrote this before he had attained great celebrity, but this +did not change either his sentiments or his tastes. Notwithstanding the +embarrassments arising from the legacy left him by his great uncle, and +which were principally caused by the action brought against him on +account of the illegal sale of the Rochdale mines (a suit which Lord +Byron gained, but the expenses of which were ruinous), he was +nevertheless sufficiently rich to live at ease, to let his needy friends +enjoy the profits arising from his works, and to allow himself acts of +beneficence and generosity that were the joy of his heart. And when he +had done all that, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506] </a></span> still found that he could not spend the surplus +in England according to his tastes. After the death of his mother, no +longer bound by his promise to her of not selling Newstead, he resolved +on effecting the sale so as to settle his affairs definitively. The sale +having failed, the forfeit brought him in £25,000; and he wrote to +Moore, in September, 1814:—</p> + +<p>"I shall know to-morrow whether a circumstance, of importance enough to +change all my plans, will occur or not.<a name="FNanchor_139_139" id="FNanchor_139_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_139_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a> If it does not, I am off +for Italy next month.</p> + +<p>"I have a few thousand pounds which I can't spend after my own heart in +this climate, and so I shall go back to the south. Hobhouse, I think and +hope, will go with me; but whether he will or not, I shall. I want to +see Venice and the Alps, and Parmesan cheeses, and look at the coasts of +Greece, or rather Epirus, from Italy as I once did, or fancied I did, +that of Italy, when off Corfu."</p> + +<p>A few days before writing this letter, his evil destiny had led him to +take a step fatal to all his future happiness.</p> + +<p>A person, for whom he entertained both affection and deference, +observing one day how unsettled he appeared in his state of mind and +projects for the future, again reiterated, with more earnestness than +ever, the advice to marry.</p> + +<p>After long discussions Lord Byron promised to do so. But who should be +the object of his choice? A young lady was named who seemed to possess +all the qualities requisite for giving happiness in marriage. Lord +Byron, on his side, suggested Miss Milbank, with whom he was then in +correspondence. She was a niece of Lady Melbourne, who had thought of +this union a year before; a circumstance which probably decided Lord +Byron's preference, for he liked Lady Melbourne very much.</p> + +<p>On hearing Miss Milbank's name his friend protested with great energy, +begging him to remark, among other things, that Miss Milbank had no +actual fortune, that his affairs were too much embarrassed for him to be +able to marry a woman without money, and moreover that Miss Milbank was +a learned lady, a <i>blue-stocking</i>, who could not possibly suit him. Ever +docile to the voice of friendship, Lord Byron yielded,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507] </a></span> and allowed his +friend to write a proposal to the other lady. Soon after a negative +answer arrived, one morning, that the two friends were together.</p> + +<p>"You see," said Lord Byron, "that after all it is Miss Milbank I am to +marry; I shall write to her!" He did so immediately; and when the letter +was finished, his friend feeling more and more opposed to such a choice, +took it from him. After having read it, he exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>"Truly, this letter is so charming that it is a pity for it not to go. I +never read a better effusion." "Then go it shall," replied Lord Byron, +who sealed and sent it off, thus signing his own misfortune!</p> + +<p>We have said that he was in correspondence with Miss Milbank. This is +how he had made her acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Two years previously, at a London <i>soirée</i>, he saw sitting in the corner +of a sofa a young girl whose simplicity of dress made her look as if she +belonged to a less elevated position than most of the other girls in the +room; Moore told him, however, that she was a rich heiress, Miss +Milbank, and that if he would marry her she might help him to restore +the old Abbey of Newstead. Her modest look, in striking contrast with +the stiffness and formality common to the aristocracy, interested Lord +Byron. He had himself introduced, and some time after ended by asking +her to marry him. His proposal, from motives that could not wound him, +was not accepted then. But a year later Miss Milbank testified the +desire of entering into correspondence with him. Thus the ground was +prepared. When he sent his letter with a fresh proposal, it was accepted +all the more eagerly that a report had been spread of his wishing to +marry a young and beautiful Irish girl, which did not please Miss +Milbank. Her answer was couched in very flattering terms, and the fatal +marriage was thus decided on. This was perhaps the only time in his life +that Lord Byron did not follow the counsels of friendship. It would +indeed seem as if an evil genius had taken possession of his will. +Warnings were not wanting; but he refused to listen to them. "If you +have any thing to say against my decision," wrote he to Moore, in his +usual jesting way, after the marriage had been agreed on, "I beg you to +say it. My resolve is taken, so positively, fixed, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508] </a></span> irrevocably, +that I can very well listen to reason, since now it can do me no more +harm."</p> + +<p>And so he married Miss Milbank three months afterward. During the +interval between the promise exchanged and the ceremony concluded, Lord +Byron saw his betrothed frequently. Had he no warning, no inspiration +from his good genius during all that time? Had he no fear of such +perfection? Did he not feel that a faultless coat of mail, like hers, +might so have pressed upon her heart that no pulse would be left giving +earnest of life? Might not tenderness, piety, indulgence, forbearance, +the most amiable and sublime virtues belonging to a Christian woman, +have their place filled in the breast of this perfect creature by +another kind of sublimity? and was it not very possible that she would +increase by one the number of those chaste wives who judge, condemn, +punish, and never forgive any thing that does not enter into the +category of their virtues, or rather of the single virtue they practice, +and under shadow of which they consider themselves able to dispense with +all others? Did he not fear that the profound mathematical knowledge of +that learned person might have slightly deadened her heart and given a +dogmatic tone to her mind, of which he doubtless with his usual +penetration suspected the narrowness, likely to render its science +pernicious to the heart? All this is easily to be believed, when we see +how preoccupied he was before marriage.</p> + +<p>"At the beginning of the month of December, being called up to town by +business, I had opportunities, from being a good deal in my noble +friend's society, of observing the state of his mind and feelings under +the prospect of the important change he was now about to undergo; and it +was with pain I found that those sanguine hopes with which I had +sometimes looked forward to the happy influence of marriage, in winning +him over to the brighter and better side of life, were, by a view of all +the circumstances of his present destiny considerably diminished. While, +at the same time, not a few doubts and misgivings, which had never +before so strongly occurred to me, with regard to his own fitness, under +any circumstances, for the matrimonial tie, filled me altogether with a +degree of foreboding anxiety as to his fate,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509] </a></span> which the unfortunate +events that followed but too fully justified."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron might still have avoided this misfortune by giving up +marriage; but the die was cast. His evil genius presented him with no +other alternative than to rush on to the catastrophe.</p> + +<p>We must add that if, unfortunately, the halo of perfection supposed to +encircle the heiress was calculated to make him tremble, it was also of +a nature to flatter his self-love. This reputation was, in the eyes of +Moore, the principal cause of his preference for Miss Milbank. However +that may be, in the last days of December, accompanied by his friend Mr. +Hobhouse, he set out for Seaham, the residence of Sir Ralph, Miss +Milbank's father. And on the morning of the 2d of January, surrounded by +visions of the past, by gloomy forebodings, having in his hand the fatal +ring that had been dug up in his garden at the moment when Miss +Milbank's consent arrived; with a beating heart, and eyes all dizzy, +that would have made him draw back, if his honor had not been too far +engaged, Lord Byron advanced toward the altar. From that fatal day, if +his star of glory did not cease to shine, or even if it shone more +brightly seen through the atmosphere of misfortune, nevertheless repose +and lasting happiness were gone for him.</p> + +<p>An heiress for a wife, but who had no actual fortune, naturally forced +him into great expenses, that soon went beyond his resources. His +creditors, lured by the riches said to belong to Miss Milbank, came down +upon him, as if the wife's fortune could be used to pay the husband's +debts.</p> + +<p>His marriage had taken place in January, and already, in October, he was +obliged to sell his library. Shortly afterward his furniture was seized, +and he had to undergo humiliations, all the more keenly felt, that they +were quite unmerited, since his debts were inherited with the property. +Lord Byron—who had a real horror of debt—with his spirit of justice, +moderate desires, simple tastes, detached as he was from material +enjoyments, and even, perhaps, through pride, would never have fallen +into such embarrassments if he had remained <i>unmarried</i>. Indeed, his +creditors were patiently awaiting the sale of some property. Besides, he +was rich<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510] </a></span> enough while unmarried; he could exercise hospitality, travel +in good style, not even keep for himself the produce of his works, and, +above all, never refuse to perform works of charity and benevolence. He +wrote to one of his friends before marriage that his affairs were about +to be settled, that he could live comfortably in England, and buy a +principality, if he wished, in Turkey.</p> + +<p>Thus, then, marriage alone drew upon him this new disaster, which he +must have felt severely, and which, doubtless, led him to make +reflections little favorable to the tie so fatally contracted. Then it +was that he would have required to meet with kindness, indulgence, and +peace at home; thus supported, his heart would have endured every thing.</p> + +<p>Instead of that, what did he find? A woman whose jealousy was extreme, +and who had her own settled way of living, and was unflinching in her +ideas; who united a conviction of her own wisdom to perfect ignorance of +the human heart,<a name="FNanchor_140_140" id="FNanchor_140_140"></a><a href="#Footnote_140_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a> all the while fancying that she knew it so well; +who, far from consenting to modify her habits, would fain have imposed +them on others. In short, a woman who had nothing in common with him, +who was unable to understand him, or to find the road to his heart or +mind; finally, one to whom forgiveness seemed a weakness, instead of a +virtue. Is it, then, astonishing that he should have suffered in such a +depressing atmosphere; that he should sometimes have been irritable, and +have even allowed to escape him a few words likely to wound the +susceptible self-love of his wife?</p> + +<p>Lady Byron possessed one of those minds clever at reasoning, but weak in +judgment; that can <i>reason</i> much without being <i>reasonable</i>, to use the +words of a great philosophical moralist of our day; one of those minds +that act as if life were a problem in jurisprudence or geometry; who +argue, distinguish, and, by dint of syllogisms, <i>deceive themselves +learnedly</i>. She always deceived herself in this way about Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>When she was in the family way, and her confinement drawing near, the +storm continued to gather above her husband's head. He was in +correspondence with Moore, then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511] </a></span> absent from London. Moore's +apprehensions with regard to the happiness likely to result from a union +that had never appeared suitable in his eyes, had, nevertheless, calmed +down on receiving letters from Lord Byron that expressed satisfaction. +Yet during the first days of what is vulgarly termed the "honey-moon," +Lord Byron sent Moore some very melancholy verses, to be set to music, +said he, and which begin thus:—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away."<br /> +</p> + +<p>Moore had already felt some vague disquietude, and he asked why he +allowed his mind to dwell on such sorrowful ideas? Lord Byron replied +that he had written these verses on learning the death of a friend of +his childhood, the Duke of Dorset, and, as his subsequent letters were +full of jests, Moore became reassured. Lord Byron said he was happy, and +so he really was; for Lady Byron, not being jealous then, continued to +be gentle and amiable.</p> + +<p>"But these indications of a contented heart soon ceased. His mention of +the partner of his home became more rare and formal, and there was +observable, I thought, through some of his letters, a feeling of unquiet +and weariness that brought back all those gloomy anticipations which I +had, from the first, felt regarding his fate."</p> + +<p>Above all, there were expressions in his letters that seemed of sad +augury. For instance, in announcing the birth of his little girl, Lord +Byron said that he was absorbed in five hundred contradictory +contemplations, although he had only one single object in view, which +would probably come to nothing, as it mostly happens with all we +desire:—</p> + +<p>"But never mind," he said, "as somebody says, '<i>for the blue sky bends +over all</i>.' I only could be glad if it bent over me where it is a little +bluer, like <i>skyish top of blue Olympus</i>."</p> + +<p>On reading this letter, dated the 5th of January, full of aspirations +after a blue sky, Moore was struck with the tone of melancholy pervading +it; and, knowing that it was Lord Byron's habit when under the pressure +of sorrow and uneasiness, to seek relief in expressing his yearnings +after freedom and after other climes, he wrote to him in these terms:—</p> + +<p>"Do you know, my dear Byron, there was something in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512] </a></span> your last letter—a +sort of mystery, as well as a want of your usual elasticity of +spirits—which has hung upon my mind unpleasantly ever since. I long to +be near you, that I might know how you really look and feel, for these +letters tell nothing, and one word <i>a quattr' occhi</i>, is worth whole +reams of correspondence. But only do tell me you are happier than that +letter has led me to fear, and I shall be satisfied."</p> + +<p>"It was," says Moore, "only a few weeks after the exchange of these +letters, that Lady Byron took the resolution of separating from him. She +had left London at the end of January, on a visit to her parents, in +Leicestershire, and Lord Byron was to come and join her there soon +after. They had parted with mutual demonstrations of attachment and of +good understanding. On the journey Lady Byron wrote a letter to her +husband, couched in playful, affectionate language. What, then, must +have been his astonishment when, directly after her arrival at Kirby +Mallory, her father, Sir Ralph, wrote to tell Lord Byron that his +daughter was going to remain with them, and would return to him no +more."</p> + +<p>This unexpected stroke fell heavily upon him. The pecuniary +embarrassments growing up since his marriage (for he had already +undergone eight or nine executions in his own house), had then reached +their climax. He was then, to use his own energetic expression, <i>alone +at his hearth, his penates transfixed around</i>; and then was he also +condemned to receive the unaccountable intelligence that the wife who +had just parted from him in the most affectionate manner, had abandoned +him forever.</p> + +<p>His state of mind can not be told, nor, perhaps, be imagined. Still he +describes it in some passages of his letters, showing at the same time +the firmness, dignity, and strength of mind that always distinguished +him. For example, he wrote to Rogers, two weeks after this thunderbolt +had fallen upon him:—</p> + +<p>"I shall be very glad to see you if you like to call, though I am at +present contending with the 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,' +some of which have struck me from a quarter whence I did not, indeed, +expect them; but, no matter, there is a 'world elsewhere,' and I will +cut my way through this as I can. If you write to Moore, will you tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513] </a></span> +him that I shall answer his letter the moment I can muster time and +spirits. Ever yours,</p> + +<p style="text-align:right"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"</p> + +<p>This strength of mind he only found a month afterward, and then he wrote +to him:—</p> + +<p>"I have not answered your letter for a time, and at present the reply to +it might extend to such a length that I shall delay it till it can be +made in person, and then I will shorten it as much as I can. I am at war +<i>with all the world and my wife</i>, or, rather, all the world and my wife +are at war with me, and have not yet crushed me, and shall not crush me, +whatever they may do. I don't know that in the course of a hair-breadth +existence I was ever, at home or abroad, in a situation so completely +uprooted of present pleasure, or rational hope for the future, as this +time. I say this because I think so, and feel it. But I shall not sink +under it the more for that mode of considering the question. I have made +up my mind.</p> + +<p>"By the way, however, you must not believe all you hear on the subject; +but don't attempt to defend me. If you succeeded in that it would be a +mortal, or an immortal, offense. Who can bear refutation?"<a name="FNanchor_141_141" id="FNanchor_141_141"></a><a href="#Footnote_141_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a></p> + +<p>And, after having spoken of his wife's family, he concludes in these +terms:—</p> + +<p>"Those who know what is going on say that the mysterious cause of our +domestic misunderstandings is a Mrs. C——, now a kind of house-keeper +and spy of Lady N——, who was a washer-woman in former days."</p> + +<p>Swayed by this idea, he went so far then in his generosity as to +exonerate his wife, and accuse himself; whereupon Moore answered that, +"<i>after all, his misfortunes lay in the choice he had made of a wife, +which he</i> (Moore) <i>had never approved</i>."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron hastened to reply that he was wrong, and that Lady Byron's +conduct while with him had not deserved the smallest reproach, giving +her, at the same time, great praise. But this answer, which, according +to Moore, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514] </a></span><i>forces admiration for the generous candor of him who wrote it +while adding to the sadness and strangeness of the whole affair</i>—this +answer, of such extraordinary generosity, will better find its place +elsewhere. It contains expressions that show his real state of soul +under the cruel circumstances:—</p> + +<p>"I have to battle with all kinds of unpleasantness, including private +and pecuniary difficulties, etc.</p> + +<p>" ...It is nothing to bear the <i>privations</i> of adversity, or, more +properly, ill-fortune, but my pride recoils from its <i>indignities</i>. +However, I have no quarrel with that same pride, which will, I think, be +my buckler through every thing. If my heart could have been broken it +would have been so years ago, and by events more afflicting than +these.... Do you remember the lines I sent you early last year? I don't +wish to claim the character of 'Vates' the prophet, but were they not a +little prophetic? I mean those beginning: 'There's not a joy the world +can,' etc. They were the truest, though the most melancholy, I ever +wrote."</p> + +<p>To this letter Moore answered immediately:—</p> + +<p>"I had certainly no right to say any thing about the <i>unluckiness of +your choice</i>, though I rejoice now that I did, as it has drawn from you +a tribute which, however unaccountable and mysterious it renders the +whole affair, is highly honorable to both parties. What I meant in +hinting a doubt with respect to the object of your selection, did not +imply the least impeachment of that perfect amiableness which the world, +I find, by common consent, allows to her. I only feared that she might +have been too perfect, too <i>precisely</i> excellent, <i>too matter-of-fact a +paragon for you to coalesce with comfortably</i>, ... and that a person +whose perfection hung in more easy folds about her, whose brightness was +softened down by some of 'those fair defects which best conciliate +love,' would, by appealing more dependently to your protection, have +stood a much better chance with your good-nature. All these +suppositions, however, I have been led into by my intense anxiety to +acquit you of any thing like a capricious abandonment of your wife; and, +totally in the dark as I am with respect to all but the fact of your +separation, you can not conceive the solicitude—the fearful +solicitude—with which I look forward to a history of the transaction +from your own lips when we meet—a history in which I am sure of at +least one virtue, manly candor."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515] </a></span></p> + +<p>Those who knew Lord Byron, gifted as he was with so much that seemed to +render it impossible for any woman to resign herself to the loss of his +love; with so much to make a wife proud of bearing his name; may well +ask what strange sort of nature Lady Byron could have possessed to act +as she did toward him; and whether, if she really married out of vanity +(as Lord Byron one day told Medwin, at Pisa), and her heart being full +of pride only, she found some greater satisfaction for her vanity in the +courage and perseverance she fancied displayed in deserting him. But, in +order to view her inexplicable conduct with any sort of indulgence, we +must say that Lady Byron was an only and a spoilt child, a slave to +rule, to habits and ideas as unchanging and inflexible as the figures +she loved to study; that, being accustomed to the comforts of a rich +house, where she was idolized, she could not do without her regular +comforts, so generally appreciated and considered necessary by English +people. But it was no easy matter to satisfy all her tastes with +mathematical regularity, to let her keep up all her habits, and, above +all, to make Lord Byron share them in their married life. In the first +place, Lord Byron, who was naturally un-English in taste, had, moreover, +through his long stay abroad, given up the peculiarities of English +habits. He did not dine every day, and when he did it was a cenobite's +meal, little suited to the taste of a true Englishman. He breakfasted on +a cup of green tea, without sugar, and the yolk of an egg, which was +swallowed standing. The comfortable fireside, the indispensable +roast-beef, and the regular evening tea, were not appreciated by him; +and, indeed, it was a real pain to him to see women eat at all. Not one +of his young wife's habits was shared by him. He did not think his soul +lost by going to bed at dawn, for he liked to write at night; or by +doing other things at what she called irregular hours; and he must have +been at least astonished on hearing himself asked, three weeks after +marriage, <i>when he intended giving up his versifying habits</i>?</p> + +<p>But he did not give them up; nor could he have done so had he wished it. +Lady Byron must have flattered herself with the idea of ruling him, of +showing the world her power over her husband. As long as their resources +sufficed for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516] </a></span> a life of luxury, both parties might have cherished +illusion, and put off reflection. But when creditors, attracted by the +name of the wealthy heiress—who in reality had only brought her +expectations with her—began to pour in, and that pecuniary +embarrassment and humiliations were added to home incompatibilities, +then, perhaps, Lord Byron became irritable sometimes, and Lady Byron +must have felt more than ever the painful absence of those comforts +whose enjoyment cause many other annoyances to be forgotten. She must +often have compared her life then, full of mortifications, and, perhaps, +of solitude, with the one so comfortable and agreeable (for her) she +formerly led at Kirby Mallory, in the midst of her relatives. Indeed, +they had spent two months there, both saying they were happy; for at +this period of the honey-moon, Lord Byron, kind as he was, doubtless +yielded to all the caprices and habits of his hosts. Nevertheless, +through the veil of his customary jests and assurances to Moore that he +was quite satisfied, it is easy to see how tired he was, and how little +the life at Seaham was suited to him.</p> + +<p>"I am in such a state of sameness and stagnation, and so totally +occupied in consuming the fruits, and sauntering, and playing dull games +at cards, and yawning, and trying to read old 'Annual Registers' and the +daily papers, and gathering shells on the shore, and watching the growth +of stunted gooseberry bushes in the garden, that I have neither time nor +sense to say more than yours ever,</p> + +<p style="text-align:right"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>."</p> + +<p>And then another time he wrote,—</p> + +<p>"I have been very comfortable here, listening to that d——d monologue +which elderly gentlemen call conversation, and in which my pious +father-in-law repeats himself every evening, except when he plays upon +the fiddle. However, they have been very kind and hospitable, and I like +them and the place vastly."</p> + +<p>Again, feeling his thought in bondage at Seaham, when it would fain have +wandered free beneath some sunny sky, he wrote to Moore, "By the way, +don't engage yourself in any travelling expedition, as I have a plan of +travel into Italy, which we will discuss. And then, think of the poesy +wherewithal we should overflow from Venice to Vesuvius, to say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517] </a></span> nothing +of Greece, through all which—God willing—we might perambulate."</p> + +<p>But on quitting Seaham to return home, without preventing Lady Byron +from continuing to follow her own tastes, it is likely that he wished to +resume his old habits: his beloved solitude, so necessary to him, his +fasts, his hours for study and rest, very different from those of +Seaham. And then she must have found it troublesome to have a husband, +who was not only indifferent to English comforts, but who even disliked +to see women eat! who, despite his embarrassments, continued to refuse +appropriating for his own use the money given and offered by his +publisher, making it over instead to the poor, and even borrowing to +help his friends and indigent authors.<a name="FNanchor_142_142" id="FNanchor_142_142"></a><a href="#Footnote_142_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> She could not have known how +he would ever get disentangled. Being <i>extremely jealous</i>, she became +the easy dupe of malicious persons; and under the influence of that +wicked woman, Mrs. Claremont, allowed herself to be persuaded that her +husband committed grave faults, though in reality they were but slight +or even imaginary ones. She forced open his writing-desk, and found in +it several proofs of intrigues that had taken place <i>previous</i> to his +marriage. In the frenzy of her jealousy, Lady Byron sent these letters +to the husband of the lady compromised, but he had the good sense to +take no notice of them. Such a revolting proceeding on the part of Lady +Byron requires no commentary: it can not be justified. Meanwhile the +conjugal abode was given up to bailiffs, and desolation reigned in Lord +Byron's soul. He had lately become a father. This was the moment that +his wife chose for leaving him; and the first proof of love she gave +their daughter, as soon as she set foot in her own home, was to abandon +that child's father and the house where she could no longer find the +mode of life to which she had been accustomed. At Kirby Mallory, the +vindictive Lady Noel, who detested Lord Byron, doubtless did the rest, +together with the governess. And the young heiress, just enriched by a +legacy inherited from an uncle, thus newly restored to wealth, had not +courage to leave it and them all again. With the kind of nature she +possessed, she must have taken pride in a sort of exaggerated firmness; +thus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518] </a></span> seeking to gain strength for trampling under foot all +heart-emotions, as if they were so many weaknesses, incompatible with +the stern principles that she considered virtues. By assuming the point +of view proper to some minds, it is easy to conceive all this, +especially when one knows England.</p> + +<p>But was it really for the purpose of allowing her to give such a +spectacle to the world, and to secure for herself the comforts of life, +that God had given to her keeping Lord Byron's noble spirit? Did she +forget that it was not simply a good, honest, ordinary man, like the +generality of husbands, that she had married; but that Heaven, having +crowned his brow with the rays of genius, imposed far other obligations +on his companion? Did she forget that she was responsible before God and +before that country whose pride he was about to become? Ought she to +have preferred an easy life to the honor of being his wife; of +sustaining him in his weaknesses; of consoling and forgiving him, if +necessary; in short, of being his guardian angel? If she aspired to the +reputation of a virtuous woman, could true virtue have done otherwise? +Ere this God has judged her above; but, here below, can those possessing +hearts have any indulgence for her?</p> + +<p>We hear constantly repeated—because it was once said—that men of great +genius are less capable than ordinary individuals of experiencing calm +affections and of settling down into those easy habits which help to +cement domestic life. By dint of repeating this it has become an axiom. +But on what grounds is it founded? Because these privileged beings give +themselves to studies requiring solitude, in order to abstract and +concentrate their thoughts; because, their mental riches being greater, +they are more independent of the outer world and the intellectual +resources of their fellow-creatures; because, through the abundance of +their own resources, their mind acquires a certain refinement, likely to +make them deem the society of ordinary persons tiresome; does it +therefore necessarily follow that the goodness and sensibility of their +hearts are blunted, and that there may not be, amid the great variety of +women, hearts and minds worthy of comprehending them, and of making it +their duty to extend a larger amount of forbearance and indulgence in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519] </a></span> +return for the glory and happiness of being the companions of these +noble beings? It is remarked, in support of the above theory, that +almost all men of genius who have married—Dante, Milton, Shakspeare, +Dryden, Byron, and many others—were unhappy. But have these observers +examined well on which side lay the cause of unhappiness? Who will say +that if Dante, instead of Gemma Donati, "the ferocious wife" (a thought +expressed by Lord Byron in his "Prophecy," evidently to appropriate it +to himself, speaking of "<i>the cold companion who brought him ruin for +her dowry</i>);" who will say that if Dante, instead of Gemma Donati, had +married his Beatrice Portinari, she would not have been the companion +and soother of his exile? that the bread of the foreigner shared with +her would not have seemed <i>less bitter</i>? and that he would not have +found it <i>less fatiguing to mount, leaning on her, the staircase leading +to another's dwelling</i>?—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Lo scendere e il salio per l'altrin scale."—<span class="smcap">Dante.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>And can we doubt that Milton's misfortune was caused by his unhappy +choice of a wife, since almost directly after her arrival at their +conjugal home she became alarmed at her husband's literary habits and +also at the solitude and poverty reigning in the house, and finally +abandoned him after a month's trial? To speak only of England, was it +not from similar causes, or nearly so, that the amiable Shakspeare's +misfortune arose—also that of Dryden, Addison, Steele? And, indeed, the +same may be said of all the great men belonging to whatsoever age or +country.</p> + +<p>If we were to enter into a polemic on this subject, or simply to make +conscientious researches, there would be many chances of proving, in +opposition to the axiom, that the fault of these great men lay in the +bad choice of their helpmates. In truth, if there have been a Gemma +Donati and a Milbank, we also find in ancient times a Calpurnia and a +Portia among the wives of great men; and, in modern times, wives of +poets, who have been the honor of their sex, proud of their husbands, +and living only for them. Ought not these examples at least to destroy +the absolute nature of the theory, making it at best conditional? The +larger number of great men, it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520] </a></span>is true, did not marry; of this number +we find, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Petrarch, Ariosto, Tasso, Cervantes, +Voltaire, Pope, Alfieri, and Canova; and many others among the poets and +philosophers, Bacon, Newton, Galileo, Descartes, Bayle, and Leibnitz.</p> + +<p>What does that prove, if not that they either would not or could not +marry, but certainly not that they were incapable of being good +husbands? Besides, a thousand causes—apart from the fear of being +unhappy in domestic life, considerations of fortune, prior attachments, +etc.—may have prevented them. But as to Lord Byron, at least, it is +still more certain with regard to him than to any other, that he might +have been happy had he made a better choice: if circumstances had only +been tolerable, as he himself says. Lord Byron had none of those faults +that often disturb harmony, because they put the wife's virtue to too +great a trial. If the best disposition, according to a deep moralist, is +that which gives much and exacts nothing, then assuredly his deserves to +be so characterized. Lord Byron exacted nothing for himself. Moreover, +discussion, contradiction, teasing, were insupportable to him; his +amiable jesting way even precluded them. In all the circumstances and +all the details of his life he displayed that high generosity, that +contempt of petty, selfish, material calculations so well adapted for +gaining hearts in general, and especially those of women. Add to that +the <i>prestige</i> belonging to his great beauty, his wit, his grace, and it +will be easy to understand the love he must have inspired as soon as he +became known.</p> + +<p>"Pope remarks," says Moore, "that extraordinary geniuses have the +misfortune to be admired rather than loved; but I can say, from my own +personal experience, that Lord Byron was an exception to this +rule."<a name="FNanchor_143_143" id="FNanchor_143_143"></a><a href="#Footnote_143_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a></p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Lord Byron, though exceptional in so many things, yet +belonged to the first order of geniuses. Therefore he could not escape +some of the laws belonging to these first-rate natures: certain habits, +tendencies, sentiments—I may almost say infirmities—of genius deriving +their <i>origin from the same sympathies, the same wants</i>.</p> + +<p>He required to have certain things granted to him: his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521] </a></span>hours for +solitude, the silence of his library, which he sometimes preferred to +every thing, even to the society of the woman he loved. It was wrong to +wish by force to shut him up to read the Bible, or to make him come to +tea and regulate all his hours as a good priest might do. When he was +plunged in the delights of Plato's "Banquet," or conversing with his own +ideas, it was folly to interrupt him. But this state was exceptional +with him. "<i>One does not have fever habitually</i>," said he of himself, +characterizing this state of excitement that belongs to composition; and +as soon as he returned to his usual state, and that his mind, disengaged +from itself, came down from the heights to which it had soared, what +amiability then, what a charm in all he said and did! Was not one hour +passed with him then a payment with rich usury for all the little +concessions his genius required? And lastly, if we descend well into the +depths of his soul, by all he said and did, by all his sadness, joy, +tenderness, we may be well convinced that none more than he was +susceptible of domestic happiness.</p> + +<p>"If I could have been the husband of the Countess G——," said he to +Mrs. B——, a few days only before setting out for Greece, "we should +have been cited, I am certain, as samples of conjugal happiness, and our +retired domestic life would have made us respectable! But alas! I can +not marry her."</p> + +<p>It is also by his latest affections that he proved how, if he had been +united to a woman after his own heart, he might have enjoyed and given +all the domestic happiness that God vouchsafes us here below, and that +when love should have undergone the transformations produced by time and +custom, he would have known how to replace the poetic enchantments of +love's first days, by feelings graver, more unchanging too, and no less +tender and sacred.</p> + +<p>But we must interrogate those who knew and saw him personally, and in +the first place Moore; for not only was Moore acquainted with Lord +Byron's secret soul, but to him had the poet confided the treasure of +his memoirs, whose principal object was to throw light on the most fatal +event of his life, and whose sacrifice, made in deference to the +susceptibilities of a few living nullities, will be an eternal remorse +for England. Now this is how Moore expresses himself on this subject:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"With respect to the causes that may be supposed to have led to this +separation, it seems needless, with the characters of both parties +before our eyes, to go in quest of any very remote or mysterious reasons +to account for it."</p> + +<p>After observing that men of great genius have never seemed made for +domestic happiness, through certain habits, certain wants of their +nature, and certain faults, which appear, he says, like the shade thrown +by genius in proportion to its greatness, Moore adds that Lord Byron +still was, in many respects, <i>a singular exception to this rule</i>, for +his heart was so sensitive and his passions so ardent, that the world of +reality never ceased to hold a large place in his sympathies; that for +the rest, his imagination could never usurp the place of reality, +neither in his feelings nor in the objects exciting them.</p> + +<p>"The poet in Lord Byron," says Moore, "never absorbed the man. From this +very mixture has it arisen that his pages bear so deeply the stamp of +real life, and that in the works of no poet with the exception of +Shakspeare, can every various mood of the mind—whether solemn or gay, +whether inclined to the ludicrous or the sublime, whether seeking to +divert itself with the follies of society or panting after the grandeur +of solitary nature—find so readily a strain of sentiment in accordance +with its every passing tone."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he did not completely escape the usual fate of great +geniuses, since he also experienced, though rarely, and always with good +cause, that sadness which, as Shakspeare says,—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Sicklies the face of happiness itself."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"To these faults, and sources of faults, inherent in his own sensitive +nature, he added also many of those which a long indulgence of self-will +generates—the least compatible, of all others, with that system of +mutual concession and sacrifice by which the balance of domestic peace +is maintained. In him they were softened down by good-nature. When we +look back, indeed, to the unbridled career, of which this marriage was +meant to be the goal—to the rapid and restless course in which his life +had run along, like a burning train, through a series of wanderings, +adventures, successes, and passions, the fever of all which was still +upon him, when, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523] </a></span> the same headlong recklessness, he rushed into +this marriage, it can but little surprise us that, in the space of one +short year, he should not have been able to recover all at once from his +bewilderment, or to settle down into that <i>tame level</i> of conduct which +the close observers of his every action required. As well might it be +expected that a steed like his own Mazeppa's—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +'Wild as the wild deer and untaught,<br /> +With spur and bridle undefiled,'<br /> +</div> + +<p>should stand still, when reined, without chafing or champing the +bit.<a name="FNanchor_144_144" id="FNanchor_144_144"></a><a href="#Footnote_144_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a></p> + +<p>"Even had the new condition of life into which he passed been one of +prosperity and smoothness, some time, as well as tolerance, must still +have been allowed for the subsiding of so excited a spirit into rest. +But, on the contrary, his marriage was at once a signal for all the +arrears and claims of a long-accumulating state of embarrassment to +explode upon him; his door was almost daily beset by duns, and his house +nine times during that year in possession of bailiffs; while, in +addition to these anxieties, he had also the pain of fancying that the +eyes of enemies and spies were upon him, even under his own roof, and +that his every hasty word and look were interpreted in the most +perverted light.</p> + +<p>"He saw but little society, his only relief from the thoughts which a +life of such embarrassment brought with it was in those avocations which +his duty, as a member of the Drury Lane Committee, imposed upon him. And +here, in this most unlucky connection with the theatre, one of the +fatalities of his short year of trial, as husband, lay. From the +reputation which he had previously acquired for gallantries, and the +sort of reckless and boyish levity to which—often in very bitterness of +soul—he gave way, it was not difficult to bring suspicion upon some of +those acquaintances which his frequent intercourse with the green-room +induced him to form, or even (as in one instance was the case) to +connect with his name injuriously that of a person to whom he had +scarcely ever addressed a single word.</p> + +<p>"Notwithstanding, however, this ill-starred concurrence of +circumstances, which might have palliated any excesses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524] </a></span> either of temper +or conduct into which they drove him, it was, after all, I am persuaded, +to no such serious causes that the unfortunate alienation, which so soon +ended in disunion, is to be traced.</p> + +<p>"'In all the unhappy marriages I have ever seen,' says Steele, 'the +great cause of evil has proceeded from slight occasions,' and to this +remark, I think, the marriage under our consideration would not be +found, upon inquiry, to be an exception. Lord Byron himself, indeed, +when at Cephalonia, a short time before his death, seems to have +expressed, in a few words, the whole pith of the mystery.</p> + +<p>"An English gentleman, with whom he was conversing on the subject of +Lady Byron, having ventured to enumerate to him the various causes he +had heard alleged for the separation, the noble poet, who had seemed +much amused with their absurdity and falsehood, said, after listening to +them all: 'The causes, my dear sir, were too simple to be easily found +out.'</p> + +<p>"In truth, the circumstances, so unexampled, that attended their +separation, the last words of the wife to the husband being those of the +most playful affection, while the language of the husband toward the +wife was in a strain, as the world knows, of tenderest eulogy, are in +themselves a sufficient proof that, at the time of their parting, there +could have been no very deep sense of injury on either side. It was not +till afterward that, in both bosoms, the repulsive force came into +operation, when, to the party which had taken the first decisive step in +the strife, it became naturally a point of pride to persevere in it with +dignity, and this unbendingness provoked, as naturally, in the haughty +spirit of the other, a strong feeling of resentment which overflowed, at +last, in acrimony and scorn. If there be any truth, however, in the +principle, that they never pardon who have done the wrong, Lord Byron, +who was, to the last, disposed to reconciliation, proved, at least, that +his conscience was not troubled by any very guilty recollections.</p> + +<p>"But though it would have been difficult perhaps, for the victims of +this strife themselves to have pointed out the real cause for their +disunion, beyond that general incompatibility which is the canker <i>of +all such marriages</i>, the public, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525] </a></span> seldom allows itself to be at +fault on these occasions, was, as usual, ready with an ample supply of +reasons for the breach, all tending to blacken the already-darkly +painted character of the poet, and representing him, in short, as a +finished monster of cruelty and depravity. The reputation of the object +of his choice for every possible virtue, was now turned against him by +his assailants, as if the excellences of the wife were proof positive of +every enormity they chose to charge upon the husband. Meanwhile, the +unmoved silence of Lady Byron under the repeated demands made for a +specification of her charges against him, left to malice and imagination +the fullest range for their combined industry. It was accordingly +stated, and almost universally believed, that the noble lord's second +proposal to Miss Milbank had been but with a view to revenge himself for +the slight inflicted by her refusal of the first, and that he himself +had confessed so much to her on their way from the church. At the time +when, as the reader has seen from his own honey-moon letters, he in all +faith fancied himself happy, and even boasted, in the pride of his +imagination, that if marriage were to be upon lease, he would gladly +renew his own for a term of ninety-nine years!</p> + +<p>"At this very time, according to these veracious chronicles, he was +employed in darkly following up the aforesaid scheme of revenge, and +tormenting his lady by all sorts of unmanly cruelties—such as firing +off pistols, to frighten her as she lay in bed, and other such +freaks.<a name="FNanchor_145_145" id="FNanchor_145_145"></a><a href="#Footnote_145_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> To the falsehoods concerning his green-room intimacies, and +particularly with respect to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[Pg 526] </a></span> one beautiful actress, with whom, in +reality, he had hardly ever exchanged a single word, I have already +adverted; and the extreme confidence with which this tale was circulated +and believed affords no unfair specimen of the sort of evidence with +which the public, in all such fits of moral wrath, is satisfied. It is, +at the same time, very far from my intention to allege that, in the +course of the noble poet's intercourse with the theatre, he was not +sometimes led into a line of acquaintance and converse, unbefitting, if +not dangerous to, the steadiness of married life. But the imputations +against him on this head were not the less unfounded, as the sole case +in which he afforded any thing like real grounds for such an accusation +did not take place till after the period of the separation.</p> + +<p>"Not content with such ordinary and tangible charges, the tongue of +rumor was emboldened to proceed still further; and, presuming upon the +mysterious silence maintained by one of the parties, ventured to throw +out dark hints and vague insinuations, of which the fancy of every +hearer was left to fill up the outline as he pleased. In consequence of +all this exaggeration, such an outcry was now raised against Lord Byron +as, in no case of private life, perhaps, was ever before witnessed; nor +had the whole amount of fame which he had gathered, in the course of the +last four years, much exceeded in proportion the reproach and obloquy +that were now, within the space of a few weeks, heaped upon him. In +addition to the many who, no doubt, conscientiously believed and +reprobated what they had but too much right, whether viewing him as poet +or man of fashion, to consider credible excesses, there were also +actively on the alert that large class of persons who seem to think that +inveighing against the vices of others is equivalent to virtue in +themselves, together with all those natural haters of success who, +having long been disgusted with the splendor of the poet, were now +enabled, in the guise of champions for innocence, to wreak their spite +on the man. In every various form of paragraph, pamphlet, and +caricature, both his character and person were held up to odium. Hardly +a voice was raised, or at least listened to, in his behalf; and though a +few faithful friends <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[Pg 527] </a></span>remained unshaken by his side, the utter +hopelessness of stemming the torrent was felt as well by them as by +himself, and, after an effort or two to gain a fair hearing, they +submitted in silence."</p> + +<p>As to Lord Byron, he hardly attempted to defend himself. Among all these +slanders, he only wished to repel one that wounded his generous pride +beyond endurance; and so he wrote to Rogers:—</p> + +<p>"You are of the few persons with whom I have lived in what is called +intimacy, and have heard me at times conversing on the untoward topic of +my recent family disquietudes. Will you have the goodness to say to me +at once, whether you ever heard me speak of her with disrespect, with +unkindness, or defending myself at her expense by any serious imputation +of any description against her? Did you never hear me say, 'that when +there was a right or a wrong, she had the right?' The reason I put these +questions to you or others of my friends is, because I am said, by her +and hers, to have resorted to such means of exculpation."</p> + +<p>It makes one's heart bleed to see this noble intellect forced by the +stupid cruel persecution of wicked fools to descend into the arena and +justify himself. But he soon ceased all kind of defense. A struggle of +this sort was most repugnant to him. At first Lord Byron had counted on +his wife's return, which would, indeed, have proved his best +justification. When he saw this return deferred, he asked simply for an +inquiry, but could not obtain what he solicited. His accusers, unable to +state any thing definite against him, naturally preferred calumny and +<i>magnanimous</i> silence to inquiry! At last, when he felt that reunion had +become improbable, and that his friends, for want of moral courage and +independence, confined themselves to mere condolence, he sought for +strength in the testimony of conscience and in his determination of one +day making the whole truth known. And he did so in effect, a year later, +while he was in Italy, and when all hope of reunion was over. Then it +was that he wrote his memoirs.</p> + +<p>Here perhaps I ought to speak of one of England's greatest crimes, or +rather, of the crime committed by a few Englishmen: I mean <i>the +destruction of his memoirs</i>, a deed perpetrated for the sake of +screening the self-love and the follies, if not the crimes, of a whole +host of insignificant beings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[Pg 528] </a></span> But, having already spoken of that in +another chapter, I will content myself with repeating here that these +memoirs were all the more precious, as their principal object was to +make known the truth; that the impression they left on the mind was a +perfect conviction of the writer's sincerity; that Lord Byron possessed +the most generous of souls, and that the separation had no other cause +but incompatibility of disposition between the two parties. Had he not +given irrefragable proof of the truth of these memoirs, by sending them +to be read and <i>commented on</i> by Lady Byron? We know with what cruel +disdain she met this generous proceeding. As to their morality, I will +content myself with quoting the exact expressions used by Lady B——, +wife of the then ambassador in Italy, to whom Moore gave them to read, +and who had copied them out entirely:—</p> + +<p>"<i>I read these memoirs at Florence</i>," said she to Countess G——, "<i>and +I assure you that I might have given them to my daughter of fifteen to +read, so perfectly free are they from any stain of immorality.</i>"</p> + +<p>Let us then repeat once more, that they, as well as the last cantos of +"Don Juan," and the journal he kept in Greece, were sacrificed for the +sole purpose of destroying all memento of the guilty weakness of persons +calling themselves his friends, and also of hiding the opinions, not +always very flattering, entertained by Lord Byron about a number of +living persons, who had unfortunately survived him. It is difficult to +conceive in any case, how these memoirs written at Venice, when his +heart was torn with grief and bitterness, could possibly have been +silent as to the injustice and calumny overwhelming him, or even as to +the pusillanimous behavior of so-called friends; while even writers +generally hostile no longer took part against him.</p> + +<p>For example, this is how Macaulay speaks of him,—Macaulay who was not +over-lenient toward Lord Byron, whom he never personally knew, and who +is seldom just as well from party spirit as from his desire of shining +in antithesis and high-sounding phrases:—</p> + +<p>"At twenty-four he found himself on the highest pinnacle of literary +fame, along with Walter Scott, Wordsworth, Southey, and a crowd of other +distinguished writers. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[Pg 529] </a></span> is scarcely an instance in history of so +sudden a rise to so dizzy an eminence. Every thing that could stimulate, +and every thing that could gratify the strongest propensities of our +nature, the gaze of a hundred drawing-rooms, the acclamation of the +whole nation, the applause of applauded men, the love of lovely +women,—all this world, and all the glory of it, were at once offered to +a youth to whom nature had given violent passions, and whom education +had never taught to control them. He lived as many men live who have no +similar excuse to plead for their faults. But his countrymen and +countrywomen would love and admire him. They were resolved to see in his +excesses only the flash and outbreak of that same fiery mind which +glowed in his poetry. He attacked religion; yet in religious circles his +name was mentioned with fondness, and in many religious publications his +works were censured with singular tenderness. He lampooned the prince +regent, yet he could not alienate the Tories. Every thing, it seemed, +was to be forgiven to youth, rank, and genius.<a name="FNanchor_146_146" id="FNanchor_146_146"></a><a href="#Footnote_146_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a></p> + +<p>"Then came the reaction. Society, capricious in its indignation as it +had been capricious in its fondness, flew into a rage with its froward +and petted darling. He had been worshiped with an irrational idolatry. +He was persecuted with an irrational fury. Much has been written about +those unhappy domestic occurrences which decided the fate of his life. +Yet nothing is, nothing ever was, positively known to the public but +this,—that he quarrelled with his lady, and that she refused to live +with him. There have been hints in abundance, and shrugs and shakings of +the head, and '<i>Well, well, we know</i>,' and '<i>We could if we would</i>,' and +'<i>If we list to speak</i>,' and '<i>There be that might an they list.</i>' But +we are not aware that there is before the world, substantiated by +credible, or even by tangible evidence, a single fact indicating that +Lord Byron was <i>more to blame than any other man who is on bad terms +with his wife</i>."</p> + +<p>And after having said how the persons consulted by Lady <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[Pg 530] </a></span>Byron, and who +had advised her to separate from her husband, formed their opinion +without hearing both parties, and that it would be quite unjust and +irrational to pronounce, or even to form, an opinion on an affair so +imperfectly known, Mr. Macaulay continues in these words:—</p> + +<p>"We know no spectacle so ridiculous as the British public in one of its +periodical fits of morality. In general, elopements, divorces, and +family quarrels, pass with little notice. We read the scandal, talk +about it for a day, and forget it. But once in six or seven years our +virtue becomes outrageous. We can not suffer the laws of religion and +decency to be violated. We must make a stand against vice. We must teach +libertines that the English people appreciate the importance of domestic +ties. Accordingly some unfortunate man, in no respect more depraved than +hundreds whose offenses have been treated with lenity, is singled out as +an expiatory sacrifice. If he has children, they are to be taken from +him. If he has a profession, he is to be driven from it. He is cut by +the higher orders, and hissed by the lower. He is, in truth, a sort of +whipping-boy, by whose vicarious agonies all the other transgressors of +the same class are, it is supposed, sufficiently chastised. We reflect +very complacently on our own severity, and compare with great pride the +high standard of morals established in England with the Parisian laxity. +At length our anger is satiated. Our victim is ruined and heart-broken, +and our virtue goes quietly to sleep for seven years more. It is clear +that those vices which destroy domestic happiness ought to be as much as +possible repressed. It is equally clear that they can not be repressed +by penal legislation. It is therefore right and desirable that public +opinion should be directed against them. But it should be directed +against them uniformly, steadily, and temperately; not by sudden fits +and starts. There should be one weight and one measure. Decimation is +always an objectionable mode of punishment. It is the resource of judges +too indolent and hasty to investigate facts and to discriminate nicely +between shades of guilt. It is an irrational practice, even when adopted +by military tribunals. When adopted by the tribunal of public opinion, +it is infinitely more irrational. It is good that a certain portion of +disgrace should constantly attend on certain bad actions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[Pg 531] </a></span> But it is not +good that the offenders should merely have to stand the risks of a +lottery of infamy, that ninety-nine out of every hundred should escape, +and that the hundredth, perhaps the most innocent of the hundred, should +pay for all. We remember to have seen a mob assembled in Lincoln's Inn +to hoot a gentleman against whom the most oppressive proceeding known to +the English law was then in progress. He was hooted because he had been +an unfaithful husband, as if some of the most popular men of the age, +Lord Nelson for example, had not been unfaithful husbands. We remember a +still stronger case. Will posterity believe that, in an age in which men +whose gallantries were universally known, and had been legally proved, +filled some of the highest offices in the state and in the army, +presided at the meetings of religious and benevolent institutions, were +the delight of every society, and the favorites of the multitude, a +crowd of moralists went to the theatre, in order to pelt a poor actor +for disturbing the conjugal felicity of an alderman? What there was in +the circumstances either of the offender or of the sufferer to vindicate +the zeal of the audience we could never conceive. It has never been +supposed that the situation of an actor is peculiarly favorable to the +rigid virtues, or that an alderman enjoys any special immunity from +injuries such as that which on this occasion roused the anger of the +public. But such is the justice of mankind. In these cases the +punishment was excessive, but the offense was known and proved. The case +of Lord Byron was harder. True Jedwood justice was dealt out to him. +First came the execution, then the investigation, and last of all, or +rather not at all, the accusation. The public, without knowing any thing +whatever about the transactions in his family, flew into a violent +passion with him, and proceeded to invent stories which might justify +its anger. Ten or twenty different accounts of the separation, +inconsistent with each other, with themselves, and with common sense, +circulated at the same time. What evidence there might be for any one of +these the virtuous people who repeated them neither knew nor cared. For +in fact these stories were not the causes, but the effects of the public +indignation. They resembled those loathsome slanders which Lewis +Goldsmith, and other abject libellers of the same class,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[Pg 532] </a></span> were in the +habit of publishing about Bonaparte; such as that he poisoned a girl +with arsenic when he was at the military school, that he hired a +grenadier to shoot Desaix at Marengo, that he filled St. Cloud with all +the pollutions of Capreæ. There was a time when anecdotes like these +obtained some credence from persons who, hating the French Emperor +without knowing why, were eager to believe any thing which might justify +their hatred.</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron fared in the same way. His countrymen were in a bad humor +with him. His writings and his character had lost the charm of novelty. +He had been guilty of the offense which, of all offenses, is punished +most severely; he had been overpraised; he had excited too warm an +interest; and the public, with its usual justice, chastised him for its +own folly. The attachments of the multitude bear no small resemblance to +those of the wanton enchantress in the Arabian Tales, who, when the +forty days of her fondness were over, was not content with dismissing +her lovers, but condemned them to expiate, in loathsome shapes, and +under cruel penances, the crime of having once pleased her too well.</p> + +<p>"The obloquy which Byron had to endure was such as might well have +shaken a more constant mind. The newspapers were filled with lampoons. +The theatres shook with execrations. He was excluded from circles where +he had lately been the <i>observed</i> of all <i>observers</i>. All those creeping +things that riot in the decay of nobler natures hastened to their +repast; and they were right; they did after their kind. It is not every +day that the savage envy of aspiring dunces is gratified by the agonies +of such a spirit, and the degradation of such a name. The unhappy man +left his country forever. The howl of contumely followed him across the +sea, up the Rhine, over the Alps; it gradually waxed fainter; it died +away; those who had raised it began to ask each other, what, after all, +was the matter about which they had been so clamorous, and wished to +invite back the criminal whom they had just chased from them. His poetry +became more popular than it had ever been; and his complaints were read +with tears by thousands and tens of thousands who had never seen his +face."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[Pg 533] </a></span></p><p>These observations of Macaulay are applied by Mr. Disraeli to Lord +Cadurcis, who, in his novel called "Venetia," is no other than Lord +Byron:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Cadurcis," says he, "was the periodical victim, the scapegoat of +English morality, sent into the wilderness with all the crimes and +curses of the multitude on his head. Lord Cadurcis had certainly +committed a great crime, not his intrigue with Lady Monteagle, for that +surely was not an unprecedented offense; nor his duel with her husband, +for after all it was a duel in self-defense: and, at all events, +divorces and duels, under any circumstances, would scarcely have excited +or authorized the storm which was now about to burst over the late +spoiled child of society. But Lord Cadurcis had been guilty of the +offense which, of all offenses, is punished most severely. Lord Cadurcis +had been overpraised. He had excited too warm an interest; and the +public, with its usual justice, was resolved to chastise him for its own +folly. There are no fits of caprice so hasty and so violent as those of +society. Cadurcis, in allusion to his sudden and singular success, had +been in the habit of saying to his intimates that he 'woke one morning +and found himself famous.' He might now observe, 'I woke one morning and +found myself infamous.' Before twenty-four hours had passed over his +duel with Lord Monteagle, he found himself branded by every journal in +London as an unprincipled and unparalleled reprobate. The public, +without waiting to think, or even to inquire after the truth, instantly +selected as genuine the most false and the most flagrant of the fifty +libellous narratives that were circulated of the transaction. Stories, +inconsistent with themselves, were all alike eagerly believed, and what +evidence there might be for any one of them, the virtuous people, by +whom they were repeated, neither knew nor cared. The public, in short, +fell into a passion with their daring, and, ashamed of their past +idolatry, nothing would satisfy them but knocking the divinity on the +head."</p> + +<p>And this same Mr. Disraeli, whose testimony is all the more precious as +coming from a Tory celebrity, after having described the shameful +reception given by the noble House to Lord Cadurcis, when he presented +himself there after the duel, and the atrocious conduct of the stupid +populace clamoring against him outside, goes on in these terms:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[Pg 534] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"And indeed to witness this young, and noble, and gifted creature, but a +few days back the idol of the nation, and from whom a word, a glance +even, was deemed the greatest and most gratifying distinction—whom all +orders, classes, and conditions of men had combined to stimulate with +multiplied adulation, with all the glory and ravishing delights of the +world, as it were, forced upon him—to see him thus assailed with the +savage execrations of all those vile things who exult in the fall of +every thing that is great and the abasement of every thing that is +noble, was indeed a spectacle which might have silenced malice and +satisfied envy!"</p> + +<p>To these just appreciations formed by some of Lord Byron's biographers +we might add many more; but the limits we have assigned to this work not +admitting of it, we will only add, as a last testimony, the most severe +of all; him of whom Moore said, "that, if one wished to speak against +Lord Byron, one had only to apply to him," that is, to Lord Byron +himself.</p> + +<p>In 1820, when Lord Byron was at Ravenna, an article from "Blackwood's +Magazine," entitled "Observations on Don Juan," was sent him.</p> + +<p>It contained such unfounded strictures on his matrimonial conduct, that, +for once, Lord Byron infringed his rule and could not help answering it. +The extracts from his defense, "<i>if defense it can be called</i>," says +Moore, "<i>where there has never yet been any definite charge, will be +read with the liveliest interest.</i>" Here, then, is a part of these +extracts:—</p> + +<p>"It is in vain, says my learned brother, that Lord Byron attempts in any +way to justify his own behavior with regard to Lady Byron.</p> + +<p>"And now that he has so openly and audaciously invited inquiry and +reproach, we do not see any good reason why he should not be plainly +told so by the voice of his countrymen."</p> + +<p>"How far the openness of an anonymous poem, and the audacity of an +imaginary character, which the writer supposes to be meant for Lady +Byron, may be deemed to merit this formidable denunciation from their +most sweet voices, I neither know nor care; but when he tells me that I +can not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[Pg 535] </a></span>'in any way justify my own behavior in that affair,' I +acquiesce, because no man can justify himself until he knows of what he +is accused; and I have never had—and, God knows, my whole desire has +ever been to obtain it—any specific charge, in a tangible shape, +submitted to me by the adversary, nor by others, unless the atrocities +of public rumor and the mysterious silence of the lady's legal advisers +may be deemed such.</p> + +<p>"But is not the writer content with what has been already said and done? +Has not the general voice of his countrymen long ago pronounced upon the +subject sentence without trial, and condemnation without a charge? Have +I not been exiled by ostracism, except that the shells which proscribed +me were anonymous? Is the writer ignorant of the public opinion and the +public conduct upon that occasion? If he is, I am not: the public will +forget both long before I shall cease to remember either.</p> + +<p>"The man who is exiled by a faction has the consolation of thinking that +he is a martyr; he is upheld by hope and the dignity of his cause, real +or imaginary: he who withdraws from the pressure of debt may indulge in +the thought that time and prudence will retrieve his circumstances; he +who is condemned by the law as a term to his banishment, or a dream of +his abbreviation; or, it may be, the knowledge or the belief of some +injustice of the law, or of its administration, in his own particular. +But he who is outlawed by general opinion, without the intervention of +hostile politics, illegal judgment, or embarrassed circumstances, +whether he be innocent or guilty, must undergo all the bitterness of +exile, without hope, without pride, without alleviation. This case was +mine. Upon what grounds the public founded their opinion I am not aware; +but it was general, and it was decisive. Of me or of mine they knew +little, except that I had written what is called poetry, was a nobleman, +had married, became a father, and was involved in differences with my +wife and her relatives, no one knew why, because the persons complaining +refused to state their grievances. The fashionable world was divided +into parties, mine consisting of a very small minority; the reasonable +world was naturally on the stronger side, which happened to be the +lady's, as was most proper and polite. The press was active and +scurrilous; and such was the rage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[Pg 536] </a></span> of the day that the unfortunate +publication of two copies of verses rather complimentary than otherwise +to the subjects of both, was tortured into a species of crime, or +constructive petty treason. I was accused of every monstrous vice by +public rumor and private rancor; my name, which had been a knightly or a +noble one since my fathers helped to conquer the kingdom for William the +Norman, was tainted. I felt that, if what was whispered, and muttered, +and murmured, was true, I was unfit for England; if false, England was +unfit for me. I withdrew: but this was not enough. In other countries, +in Switzerland, in the shadow of the Alps, and by the blue depth of the +lakes, I was pursued and breathed upon by the light. I crossed the +mountains, but it was the same; so I went a little farther, and settled +myself by the waves of the Adriatic, like the stag at bay, who betakes +him to the waters.</p> + +<p>"If I may judge by the statements of the few friends who gathered round +me, the outcry of the period to which I allude was beyond all precedent, +all parallel, even in those cases where political motives have sharpened +slander and doubled enmity."</p> + +<p>One regrets not being able to go on reproducing these fine pages written +by Lord Byron, but the limits we have assigned ourselves force the +sacrifice.</p> + +<p>And now, after all that has been placed before the reader, will he not +be curious to learn whether Lord Byron truly loved Lady Byron. The +answer admits of no doubt. Could love exist between two natures so +widely dissonant? But then it will be said, why did he marry her? This +question may be answered by the simple observation that two-thirds of +the marriages in high life, and indeed in all classes, are contracted +without any love, nor are the parties, therefore, condemned to +unhappiness. Still it is as well to recall that not only it did not +enter into Lord Byron's views to marry for love and to satisfy passion, +but that he married rather for the sake of escaping from the yoke of his +passions! "If I were in love I should be jealous," said he, "and then I +could not render happy the woman I married." "Let her be happy," added +he, "and then, for my part, I shall also be so." Then again <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[Pg 537] </a></span>we find, +"Let them only leave me my mornings free." Lastly, he wrote in his +journal, before marrying Miss Milbank, and while in correspondence with +her, "It is very singular, but there is not a spark of love between me +and Miss Milbank." If, then, Miss Milbank married Lord Byron out of +self-love, and to prevent his marrying a young and beautiful Irish girl, +Lord Byron, on his part, married Miss Milbank from motives the most +honorable to human nature. It was her <i>simple modest</i> air that attracted +him and caused his delusion, and the fame of her virtues quite decided +him. As to interested motives, they were at most but secondary; and his +disinterestedness was all the more meritorious, since the embarrassed +state of his affairs made him really require money, and Miss Milbank had +none at that period. She was an only daughter, it is true; but her +parents were still in the prime of life, and her uncle, Lord Wentworth, +from whom her mother was to inherit before herself, might yet live many +years. His marriage with Miss Milbank was thus not only disinterested as +regards fortune, but even <i>imprudently generous</i>; for she only brought +him a small dowry of £10,000—a mere trifle compared to the life of +luxury she was to lead, in accordance with their mutual rank.<a name="FNanchor_147_147" id="FNanchor_147_147"></a><a href="#Footnote_147_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> And +these £10,000 were not only returned by Lord Byron on their separation, +but generously doubled.</p> + +<p>And now let us hasten to add that although Lord Byron was not in love +with Miss Milbank, he had no dislike to her person, for she was rather +pretty and pleasing in appearance. Her reputation for moral and +intellectual qualities, standing on such a high pedestal, Lord Byron +naturally conceived that esteem might well suffice to replace +tenderness. It is certain that, if she had lent herself to it more, and +if circumstances had only been endurable, their union might have +presented the same character common to most aristocratic couples in +England, and that even Lord Byron might have been able to act from +virtue in default of feeling; but that little requisite for him was +wholly wanting.</p> + +<p>His celebrated and touching "Farewell" might be brought up as an +objection to what we have just advanced. It might be said that the word +<i>sincere</i> is a proof of love, and <i>insincere</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[Pg 538] </a></span> a proof of <i>falsehood</i>. +Lastly, that in all cases there was a want of delicacy and refinement in +thus confiding his domestic troubles to the public. Well, all that would +be ill-founded, unjust, and contrary to truth. This is the truth of the +matter. Lord Byron had just been informed that Lady Byron, having sent +off by post the letter wherein she confirmed all that her father, Sir +Ralph, had written, namely, her resolution of not returning to the +conjugal roof, had afterward caused this letter to be sought for, and on +its being restored, had given way to almost mad demonstrations of joy. +Could he see aught else in this account save a certainty of the evil +influences weighing on her, and making her act in contradiction to her +real sentiments? He pitied her then as a victim, thought of all the +virtues <i>said</i> to crown her, the illusive belief in which he was far +then from having lost; he forgot the wrongs she had inflicted on +him—the spying she had kept up around him—the calumnies spread against +him—the use she had made of the letters subtracted from his desk. Yes, +all was forgotten by his generous heart; and, according to custom, he +even went so far as to accuse himself—to see in the victim only his +wife, the mother of his little Ada! Under this excitement he was walking +about at night in his solitary apartments, and suddenly chanced to +perceive in some corner different things that had belonged to Lady +Byron—dresses and other articles of attire. It is well known how much +the sight of these inanimate mementoes has power to call up +recollections even to ordinary imaginations. What, then, must have been +the vividness with which they acted on an imagination like Lord Byron's? +His heart softened toward her, and he recollected that one day, under +the influence of sorrows which well-nigh robbed him of consciousness, he +had answered her harshly. Thinking himself in the wrong, and full of the +anguish that all these reflections and objects excited in his breast, he +allowed his tears to flow, and, snatching a pen, wrote down that +touching effusion, which somewhat eased his suffering.</p> + +<p>The next day one of his friends found these beautiful verses on his +desk; and, judging of Lady Byron's heart and that of the public +according to his own, he imprudently gave <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[Pg 539] </a></span>them to the world. Thus we +can no more doubt Lord Byron's sincerity in writing them than we can +accuse him of publishing them. But what may cause astonishment is that +they could possibly have been ill-interpreted, as they were; and, above +all, that this touching "Farewell"—which made Madame de Staël say she +would gladly have been unhappy, like Lady Byron, to draw it forth—that +it should not have had power to rescue her heart from its apathy, and +bring her to the feet of her husband, or at least into his arms. Let us +add, in conclusion, that the most atrocious part of this affair, and +doubtless the most wounding for him, was precisely Lady Byron's conduct; +and in this conduct the worst was <i>her cruel silence</i>!</p> + +<p>She has been called, after his words, the moral Clytemnestra<a name="FNanchor_148_148" id="FNanchor_148_148"></a><a href="#Footnote_148_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a> of her +husband. Such a surname is severe; but the repugnance we feel to +condemning a woman can not prevent our listening to the voice of +justice, which tells us that the comparison is still in favor of the +guilty one of antiquity. For she, driven to crime by fierce passion +overpowering reason, at least only deprived her husband of physical +life, and in committing the deed exposed herself to all its +consequences; while Lady Byron left her husband at the very moment that +she saw him struggling amid a thousand shoals, in the stormy sea of +embarrassments created by his marriage, and precisely when he more than +ever required a friendly, tender, and indulgent hand to save him from +the tempests of life. Besides, she shut herself up in silence a thousand +times more cruel than Clytemnestra's poniard, that only killed the body; +whereas Lady Byron's silence was destined to kill the soul, and such a +soul! leaving the door open to calumny, and making it to be supposed +that her silence was magnanimity destined to cover over frightful +wrongs, perhaps even depravity. In vain did he, feeling his conscience +at ease, implore some inquiry and examination. She refused, and the only +favor she granted was to send him, one fine day, two persons to see +whether he were not mad. Happily Lord Byron only discovered at a later +period the purport of this strange visit.</p> + +<p>In vain did Lord Byron's friend, the companion of all his travels, throw +himself at Lady Byron's feet, imploring her to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[Pg 540] </a></span> give over this fatal +silence. The only reply she deigned was, that she had thought him mad!</p> + +<p>And why, then, had she believed him mad? Because she, a methodical +inflexible woman, with that unbendingness which a profound moralist +calls the worship rendered to pride by a feelingless soul;—because she +could not understand the possibility of tastes and habits different to +those of ordinary routine, or of her own starched life! Not to be hungry +when she was—not to sleep at night, but to write while she was +sleeping, and to sleep when she was up—in short, to gratify the +requirements of material and intellectual life at hours different to +hers:—all that was not merely annoying for her, but it must be +<i>madness!</i> or if not, it betokened depravity that she could neither +submit to nor tolerate without perilling her own morality!</p> + +<p>Such was the grand secret of the cruel silence which exposed Lord Byron +to the most malignant interpretations—to all the calumny and revenge of +his enemies.</p> + +<p>She was perhaps the only woman in the world so strangely organized—the +only one, perhaps, capable of not feeling happy and proud at belonging +to a man superior to the rest of humanity! and fatally was it decreed +that this woman <i>alone</i> of her species should be Lord Byron's wife!</p> + +<p>Before closing this chapter it remains for us to examine if it be true, +as several of his biographers have pretended, that he wished to be +reunited to his wife. We must here declare that Lord Byron's intention, +in the last years of his life, was, on the contrary, not to see Lady +Byron again. This is what he wrote from Ravenna, to Moore, in June, +1820:—</p> + +<p>"I have received a Parisian letter from W. W——, which I prefer +answering through you, as that worthy says he is an occasional visitor +of yours. In November last he wrote to me a well-meaning letter, stating +for some reasons of his own, his belief that a <i>reunion</i> might be +effected between Lady Byron and myself.</p> + +<p>"To this I answered as usual; and he sent me a second letter, repeating +his notions, which letter I have never answered, having had a thousand +other things to think of. He now writes as if he believed that he had +offended me by touching on the topic; and I wish you to assure him that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[Pg 541] </a></span> +I am not at all so, but on the contrary, obliged by his good-nature. At +the same time <i>acquaint him the thing is impossible. You know this as +well as I, and there let it end.</i>"</p> + +<p>A year later, at Pisa, he again said to M——"<i>that he never would have +been reunited</i> to Lady Byron; that the time for such a possibility was +passed, and he had made <i>quite sufficient advances</i>."</p> + +<p>Let us add likewise that during the last period of his stay at Genoa, a +person whose acquaintance he had just made, thought fitting, for several +reasons and even by way of winning golden opinions among a certain set +in England, to insist on this matter with Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>In order to succeed, this person represented Lady Byron as a victim, +telling him she was very ill physically and morally, and declaring the +secret cause to be, no doubt, grief at her separation from him and dread +of his asserting his rights over Ada.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron, kind and impressionable as he was, may have been moved at +this; but assuredly his resolution of not being reunited to Lady Byron +was not shaken. His only reply was to show me a letter he had written +some little time before:—</p> + +<p>"The letter I inclose," said he, "may help to explain my sentiments.... +I was perfectly sincere when I wrote it, and am so still. But it is +difficult for me to withstand the thousand provocations on that subject, +which both friends and foes have for seven years been throwing in the +way of a man whose feelings were once quick, and whose temper was never +patient. But 'returning were as tedious as go o'er.' I feel this as much +as ever Macbeth did; and it is a dreary sensation, which at least +avenges the real or imaginary wrongs of one of the two unfortunate +persons whom it concerns."</p> + +<p>Here is the letter he wrote from Pisa to Lady Byron:—</p> + +<p>"I have to acknowledge the receipt of Ada's hair, which is very soft and +pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was at twelve years old, if I +may judge from what I recollect of some in Augusta's possession, taken +at that age. But it don't curl, perhaps from its being let grow.</p> + +<p>"I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[Pg 542] </a></span> and I will +tell you why: I believe that they are the only two or three words of +your handwriting in my possession. For your letters I returned, and +except the two words, or rather the one word, 'household,' written twice +in an old account-book, I have no other. I burnt your last note for two +reasons:—firstly, it was written in a style not very agreeable; and, +secondly, I wished to take your word without documents, which are the +worldly resources of suspicious people.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada's +birthday—the 10th of December, I believe. She will then be six, so that +in about twelve more I shall have some chance of meeting her; perhaps +sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business or otherwise. +Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance or nearness: every day +which keeps us asunder should, after so long a period, rather soften our +mutual feelings, which must always have one rallying-point as long as +our child exists, which I presume we both hope will be long after either +of her parents.</p> + +<p>"The time which has elapsed since the separation has been considerably +more than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much longer +one of our prior acquaintance. We both made a bitter mistake; but now it +is over, and irrevocably so. For at thirty-three on my part, and a few +years less on yours, though it is no very extended period of life, still +it is one when the habits and thoughts are generally so formed as to +admit of no modification; and as we could not agree when younger, we +should with difficulty do so now.</p> + +<p>"I say all this, because I own to you that, notwithstanding every thing, +I considered our reunion as not impossible for more than a year after +the separation; but then I gave up the hope entirely and forever. But +this very impossibility of reunion seems to me, at least, a reason why, +on all the few points of discussion which can arise between us, we +should preserve the courtesies of life, and as much of its kindness as +people who are never to meet may preserve, perhaps more easily than +nearer connections. For my own part, I am violent, but not malignant; +for only fresh provocations can awaken my resentment. To you, who are +colder and more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[Pg 543] </a></span> concentrated, I would just hint that you may sometimes +mistake the depth of a cold anger for dignity, and a worse feeling for +duty. I assure you that I bear you now (whatever I may have done) no +resentment whatever. Remember that if you have injured me in aught, this +forgiveness is something; and that if I have injured you, it is +something more still, if it be true, as moralists say, that the most +offending are the least forgiving.</p> + +<p>"Whether the offense has been solely on my side or reciprocal, or on +yours chiefly, I have ceased to reflect upon any but two things, viz., +that you are the mother of my child, and that we shall never meet again. +I think if you also consider the two corresponding points with reference +to myself, it will be better for all three. Yours ever,</p> + +<p style="text-align:right">"<span class="smcap">Noel Byron</span>."</p> + +<p>This letter, though never sent, requires no further proofs. It can now +be understood, although the contrary has been said, that Lord Byron's +resolution never again to unite with Lady Byron was irrevocable; but +that, however, a reconciliation would have pleased him, on account of +his daughter, and because no feeling of hatred could find room in his +great <i>soul</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[Pg 544] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_138_138" id="Footnote_138_138"></a><a href="#FNanchor_138_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> "In none of the persons he admired," says Moore, "did I +meet with a union of qualities so well fitted to succeed in the +difficult task of winning him into fidelity and happiness as in the lady +in question. Combining beauty of the highest order with a mind +intelligent and ingenuous, having just learning enough to give +refinement to her taste, and far too much taste to make pretensions to +learning; with a patrician spirit proud as Lord Byron's, but showing it +only in a delicate generosity of spirit, a feminine high-mindedness, +which would have led her to tolerate the defects of her husband in +consideration of his noble qualities and his glory, and even to +sacrifice silently her own happiness rather than violate the +responsibility in which she stood pledged to the world for his."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_139_139" id="Footnote_139_139"></a><a href="#FNanchor_139_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> This circumstance was his proposal for Miss Milbank; we +shall see presently how it had taken place.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_140_140" id="Footnote_140_140"></a><a href="#FNanchor_140_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> "Lady Byron," said Lord Byron at Pisa, "and Mr. Medwin +were continually making portraits of me; each one more unlike than the +other."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_141_141" id="Footnote_141_141"></a><a href="#FNanchor_141_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> Moore, Letter 233.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_142_142" id="Footnote_142_142"></a><a href="#FNanchor_142_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> At this time of embarrassment he borrowed a large sum to +give to Coleridge.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_143_143" id="Footnote_143_143"></a><a href="#FNanchor_143_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> Moore, p. 389.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_144_144" id="Footnote_144_144"></a><a href="#FNanchor_144_144"><span class="label">[144]</span></a> Moore's Life, vol. iii. p. 209.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_145_145" id="Footnote_145_145"></a><a href="#FNanchor_145_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> It is true that once Lord Byron discharged a pistol, by +accident, in Lady Byron's room, when she was <i>enciente</i>. This action, +coupled with the preoccupations and sadness overwhelming Lord Byron's +mind at this time, and further aided by the insinuation of Mrs. +Claremont, made Lady Byron begin and continue to suspect that he was +mad, and so fully did she believe it, that from that hour, she could +never see him come near her without trembling. It was under the +influence of this absurd idea that she left him. Lady Byron was not +guilty of the reports then current against him. They were spread abroad +by her parents: she, on the contrary, as long as she thought him mad, +felt great sorrow at it. It was only when she had to persuade herself +that he was not mad, that she vowed hatred against him, convinced as she +was that he had only married her out of revenge, and not from love. But +if an imaginary fear, and even an unreasonable jealousy may be her +excuse (just as one excuses a monomania), can one equally forgive her +silence? Such a silence is morally what are physically the poisons which +kill at once, and defy all remedies, thus insuring the culprit's safety. +This silence it is which will ever be her crime, for by it she poisoned +the life of her husband.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_146_146" id="Footnote_146_146"></a><a href="#FNanchor_146_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> All this is either <i>false</i> or <i>exaggerated</i>. Religious +criticisms were not so mild, though he had not in any way <i>attacked +religion</i>, and the Tories <i>never forgave</i> his attack on the prince +regent, which they made a great noise about.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_147_147" id="Footnote_147_147"></a><a href="#FNanchor_147_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> See the description of her life made by him to Medwin +during his stay at Pisa.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_148_148" id="Footnote_148_148"></a><a href="#FNanchor_148_148"><span class="label">[148]</span></a> Lord Byron, in lines wrung from him by anguish and anger, +says <i>the moral Clytemnestra of thy lord</i>.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>LORD BYRON'S GAYETY AND MELANCHOLY.</h3> + +<h4>HIS GAYETY.</h4> + + +<p>A great deal has been said about Byron's melancholy. His gayety has also +been spoken of. As usual, all the judgments pronounced have been more or +less false. His temperament is just as little known as his disposition, +when people affect to judge him in an exclusive way.</p> + +<p>Let me, then, be permitted in this instance also to re-establish truth +on its only sure basis, namely, facts.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron was so often gay that several of his biographers had thought +themselves justified in asserting that <i>gayety</i> and not <i>melancholy</i> +predominated in his nature. Even Mr. Galt, who only knew him at that +period of his life when melancholy certainly predominated, nevertheless +uses these expressions:—"Singular as it may seem, the poem itself +('Beppo,' his first essay of facetious poetry) has a stronger tone of +gayety than his graver works have of melancholy, commonly believed to +have been (I think unjustly) the predominant trait in his +character."<a name="FNanchor_149_149" id="FNanchor_149_149"></a><a href="#Footnote_149_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a></p> + +<p>Many others have said the same thing. The truth is, that if by giving +way to reflection—which was a necessity of his genius—and through +circumstances—which were a fatality of his destiny—he has shown +himself melancholy in his writings and very often in his dispositions, +it is no less certain that by temperament and taste, by the activity, +penetration, and complex character of his mind, he very often showed +himself to be extremely gay. No one better than he seized upon the +absurd and ridiculous side of things or more easily found cause for +laughter. His gayety—the result of a frank, open, volatile nature, full +of varying moods—was easily excited by any absurdities, ridiculous +pretensions, or witty sallies; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[Pg 545] </a></span> then he became so expansive and +charming, body and soul with him both seemed to laugh in such unison, +that it was impossible not to catch the contagion; but his laughter was +ever devoid of malice. Slight defects of harmony in things, or +proportion, or mutual relation, easily gave rise to mirthful sensations +in him. Being full of admiration for the beautiful, and having, +moreover, a great sense of mutual fitness, and much activity of mind, it +was with extraordinary and instinctive promptitude that he seized upon +the contradictory relations existing between objects, and indeed on all +showing a voluntary absence of order and beauty in the conduct of free +reasonable beings. His laughter was then quite as æsthetical as it was +innocent. And even if it were not admitted, as it is by all +philosophical moralists, that no sort of personal calculation enters +into this entirely spontaneous emotion, no sentiment of superiority over +the being we are laughing at—for <i>selfishness and laughter never +coexist</i>—if it were possible, I say, to doubt all this, even then to +see Lord Byron laugh would have sufficed to give the right conviction. +For truly his mirth was a charming thing; the very air surrounding him +appeared to laugh.</p> + +<p>Then would his soul, that often required to emerge from its deep +reflections, unbend itself, and alternately disport or repose in utter +self-abandonment. It dismissed thought, as it were, in order to become a +child again; to deliver itself over to all the caprices of those myriad +changeful fugitive impressions that course through the brain at moments +of excitement.</p> + +<p>Moore often recurs to Byron's liveliness. "Nothing, indeed, could be +more amusing and delightful.... It was like the bursting gayety of a boy +let loose from school, and seemed as if there was no extent of fun or +tricks of which he was not capable." When Moore visited him at Mira, in +the autumn of 1812, and accompanied him to Venice, the former expressed +himself as follows in his memorandum of that occasion:—</p> + +<p>"As we proceeded across the lagoon in his gondola the sun was just +setting, and it was an evening such as Romance would have chosen for a +first sight of Venice, rising 'with her tiara of bright towers' above +the wave; while to complete, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[Pg 546] </a></span> might be imagined, the solemn interest +of the scene, I behold it in company with him who had lately given a new +life to its glories, and sung of that fair City of the Sea thus +grandly:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A palace and a prison on each hand:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I saw from out the wave her structures rise</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A thousand years their cloudy wings expand</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Around me, and a dying Glory smiles</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O'er the far times, when many a subject land</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles,</span><br /> +Where Venice sat in state, throned on her hundred isles!'<br /> +</div> + +<p>"But whatever emotions the first sight of such a scene might, under +other circumstances, have inspired me with, the mood of mind in which I +now viewed it was altogether the reverse of what might have been +expected. The exuberant gayety of my companion, and the +recollections—any thing but romantic—into which our conversation +wandered, put at once completely to flight all poetical and historical +associations; and our course was, I am almost ashamed to say, one of +uninterrupted merriment and laughter till we found ourselves at the +steps of my friend's palazzo on the Grand Canal. All that ever happened, +of gay or ridiculous, during our London life together; his scrapes and +my lecturings; our joint adventures with the Bores and Blues, the two +great enemies, as he always called them, of London happiness; our joyous +nights together at Walter's, Kinnaird's, etc.; and that 'd—d supper of +Rancliffe's, which ought to have been a dinner;' all was passed rapidly +in review between us, and with a flow of humor and hilarity on his side +of which it would have been difficult for persons even far graver than +even I can pretend to be, not to have caught the contagion."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron was especially prone to mirth and fun in the society of those +he liked; to jest and laugh with any one was a great proof of his +sympathy for them. When he wrote to absent dear ones, he would +constantly say, "I have many things to tell you for us to laugh over +together." In several letters addressed from Greece to Madame G——, he +informs her of these treasures of mirth, held in reserve for the day of +meeting, that they might laugh together. Lord Byron rarely used +flattering language to those he loved. It was rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[Pg 547] </a></span> by looks than by +words that he expressed his feelings and his approbation. His delight +with intimates was to bring out strongly their defects, as well as their +qualities and merits, by dint of jests, clever innuendo, and charming +sallies of humor. The promptitude with which he discovered the slightest +weakness, the faintest symptom of exaggeration or affectation, can +hardly be credited. It might almost be said that the persons on whom he +bestowed affection became <i>transparent</i> for him, that he dived into +their thoughts and feelings.</p> + +<p>It was this state of mind especially that gave rise to those sallies of +wit which formed such a striking feature of his intelligence. Then his +conversation really became quite dazzling. In his glowing language all +objects assumed unforeseen and picturesque aspects. New and striking +thoughts followed from him in rapid succession, and the flame of his +genius lighted up as if winged with wildfire. Those who have not known +him at these moments can form no idea of what it was from his works. +For, in the silence of his study, when, pen in hand, he was working out +his grand conceptions, the lightning strokes lost much of their +brilliant intensity; and although we find, especially in "Don Juan" and +"Beppo," delightful pages of rich comic humor, only those who knew him +can judge how superior still his conversation was. But in this gay +exercise of his faculties, which was to him a real enjoyment in all his +sallies or even in his railleries, not one iota of malice could be +traced—unless we call by that name the amusement springing from mirth +and wit indulged. Even if his shafts were finely pointed, they were at +the same time so inoffensive that the most susceptible could not be +wounded.</p> + +<p>The great pleasure he took in jesting appears to have belonged to his +organization, for it accompanied him throughout life. We have already +seen what his nurses, his preceptors, and the friends of his childhood +said on this subject. We have observed his sympathy for the old +cup-bearer of his family mansion; the pleasantries expended on the quack +Lavander, who was always promising to cure his foot, and never did; the +jesting tone of his boyish correspondence; afterward the masqueradings +that took place at Newstead Abbey; then again his gay doings with Moore +and Rogers in London; the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[Pg 548] </a></span> jests pervading the correspondence of his +maturer years; then their concentration in "Beppo" and "Don Juan;" and +finally, how often, even in Greece, when he was already unwell at +Missolonghi, he could not help giving way to pleasantry and childish +play to such a degree that good Dr. Kennedy, when he wished to convert +him to his somewhat intolerant orthodoxy at Cephalonia, found one of the +obstacles to consist in the difficulty of keeping Lord Byron serious.</p> + +<p>"He was fond," says the doctor, "of saying smart and witty things, and +never allowed an opportunity of punning to escape him.... He generally +showed high spirits and hilarity.... I have heard him say several witty +things; but as I was always anxious to keep him grave and present +important subjects for his consideration, after allowing the laugh to +pass I again endeavored to resume the seriousness of the conversation, +while his lordship constantly did the same."</p> + +<p>And then Kennedy adds:—"My impression from them was, that they were +unworthy a man of his accomplishments: I mean the desire of +jesting."<a name="FNanchor_150_150" id="FNanchor_150_150"></a><a href="#Footnote_150_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a></p> + +<p>These words well characterize the honest Methodist, who, like many other +good and noble minds, yet could not understand fun. This incapability is +also sometimes the case with persons of a sour, ill-natured, or +susceptible disposition, whose excessive vanity is shocked at all +simple, innocent explosions of gayety and pleasantry.<a name="FNanchor_151_151" id="FNanchor_151_151"></a><a href="#Footnote_151_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a> Colonel +Stanhope, who knew Lord Byron at the same period, and who was not a +Methodist, but who from other causes could not appreciate the poet's +vivacious wit, said:—</p> + +<p>"The mind of Lord Byron was like a volcano, full of fire and wrath, +sometimes calm, often dazzling and playful.... As a companion," he adds, +"no one could be more amusing than Lord Byron; he had neither pedantry +nor affectation about him, but was natural and playful as a boy. His +conversation resembled a stream; sometimes smooth, sometimes rapid, and +sometimes rushing down in cataracts. It was a mixture of philosophy and +slang, of every thing,—like his 'Don Juan.' He was a patient, and in +general a very attentive, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[Pg 549] </a></span>listener. When, however, he did engage with +earnestness in conversation, his ideas succeeded each other with such +uncommon rapidity that he could not control them. They burst from him +impetuously; and although he both attended to and noticed the remarks of +others, yet he did not allow these to check his discourse for an +instant."</p> + +<p>"There was usually," writes Count Gamba, his friend and companion in +Greece, in his interesting work, entitled "Last Travels of Lord Byron in +Greece," "a liveliness of spirit and a tendency to joke, even at times +of great danger, when other men would have become serious and +pre-occupied. This disposition of mind gave him a kind of air of +frankness and sincerity which was quite irresistible with those persons +even who were most prejudiced against him."</p> + +<p>This allusion of Count Gamba refers to the letter which Byron wrote in +the midst of the Suliotes, among whom he had taken refuge during the +storm and to escape the Turks.</p> + +<p>"If any thing," writes Lord Byron, on the point of embarking for +Missolonghi, and in his last letter to Moore, "if any thing in the way +of fever, fatigue, famine, or otherwise, should cut short the middle age +of a brother warbler, like Garcilasso de la Vega, I pray you remember me +in 'your smiles and wine.'</p> + +<p>"I have hopes that the cause will triumph; but, whether it does or no, +still 'honor must be minded as strictly as a milk diet.' I trust to +observe both.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"</p> + +<p>"It is matter of history," continues Count Gamba, "that Lord Byron, in +consequence of vexations to which he was ever a victim, added to the +rigorous diet which he followed (he only fed upon vegetables and green +tea, to show that he could live as frugally as a Greek soldier), and +from the impossibility which he found to take any exercise at +Missolonghi, had a nervous fit, which deprived him of the power of +speech and alarmed all his friends and acquaintances. When the crisis +had worn off, he merely laughed over it."</p> + +<p>"Even at Missolonghi," says Parry, who knew him there only in the midst +of troubles and vexations of every description and quite at the close of +his life, "he loved to jest in words and actions. These pleasantries +lightened his spirits, and prevented him from dwelling on disagreeable +thoughts."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[Pg 550] </a></span></p> + +<p>Perhaps this disposition of character was the result of his French +origin, for it is scarcely known or even appreciated in England.</p> + +<p>"Yet," exclaims the greatest-minded woman of our day (Madame G. Sand), +"it is that disposition which forms the charm of every delicate +intimacy, and which often prevents our committing many follies and +stupidities.</p> + +<p>"To look for the ridiculous side of things is to discover their +weakness. To laugh at the dangers in the midst of which we find +ourselves is to get accustomed to brave them; like the French, who go +into action with a laugh and a song. To quiz a friend is often to save +him from a weakness in which our pity might perhaps have allowed him to +linger. To laugh at one's self is to preserve one's self from the +effects of an exaggerated self-love. I have noticed that the people who +never joke are gifted with a childish and insupportable vanity."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, there are high and noble natures that never laugh, and are +incapable of understanding the pleasures of gayety. But minds like these +have some vacuum; they certainly lack what is called wit.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron's gayety, full of dazzling wit and varied tints, like his +other faculties, never went beyond the limits befitting its exercise in +a beautiful soul. As much as the truly ridiculous, that which a great +writer has defined, "<i>the strength, small or great, of a free being, out +of proportion with its end</i>,"—as much, I say, as the truly ridiculous +attracted and amused him, just as much did grave, moral, and physical +disorders, produced by corruption of body or soul, sadden and repel his +nature, so full of harmony. He could never laugh at these latter. The +grave disorders of soul that exist in free beings, and that are +therefore voluntary, raised sadness, anger, or indignation in him, +according to the degree of vice or disorder. We need seek no other +origin for his bitterest satires in verse and prose. Great ugliness and +physical defects certainly inspired him with great disgust, consequent +upon his passion for the beautiful; but, at the same time, involuntary +misfortunes excited his liveliest compassion, often testified by the +most generous deeds.</p> + +<p>We know, for instance, that Lord Byron had a defect in one of his feet, +but a defect so slight—although it has been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[Pg 551] </a></span> greatly exaggerated—that +people have never been able to say in which of the two feet it did +exist. Nor did it in any way diminish the grace and activity all his +movements displayed. If its existence were painful for him, that must +have been because his sense of harmony looked upon this defect as +detrimental to the perfection of his physical beauty. But whatever may +have been the cause of this sensibility, it sufficed in any case to make +him feel a generous compassion for all those afflicted with any defect +analogous to his own. Lord Harrington, then Colonel Stanhope, says:—</p> + +<p>"Contrary to what we observe in most people, Lord Byron, who was always +very sensitive to the sufferings of others, showed greatest sympathy for +those who had any imperfection akin to his own." At Ravenna, his +favorite beggar limped. And on him Lord Byron bestowed the privilege of +picking up all the largest coins struck down by his dexterous +pistol-shots in the forest of pines. We have said he never laughed at +any involuntary defect, not even at a person falling (as is so often the +case), for fear it might have been caused by bodily weakness, neither +did he ridicule any of the weaknesses or shortcomings of intelligence.</p> + +<p>He did not laugh at a bad poet on account of his bad verses. When he was +at Pisa, an Irishman there was engaged in translating the "Divine +Comedy." The translation was very heavy and faulty; but the translator +was most enthusiastic about the great poet, and absolutely lived on the +hope of getting his work published. All the English at Pisa, including +the kind Shelley, were turning him into ridicule. Lord Byron alone would +not join in the laugh. T——'s sincerity won for him grace and +compassion. Indeed Lord Byron did still more; for he wrote and entreated +Murray to publish the work, so as to give the poor poet this +consolation. Not content with that step, he wrote to Moore to beg +Jeffrey not to criticise him, undertaking himself to ask Gifford the +same thing, through Murray. "Perhaps they might speak of the +commentaries without touching on the text," said he; and then he added +with his usual pleasantry, "However, we must not trust to it. <i>Those +dogs! the text is too tempting.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_152_152" id="FNanchor_152_152"></a><a href="#Footnote_152_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[Pg 552] </a></span></p> + +<p>Nor did he laugh at exaggerated devotion, even if it were extravagant or +superstitious, provided he thought it sincere. Countess G——, paternal +aunt of Countess G——, the greatest beauty of Romagna in 1800, had +fallen into such extreme mystical devotion, through the brutal jealousy +of her husband, that she died in the odor of sanctity. This lady wrote +to her brother, Count G——, at Genoa, saying how happy she was, and +giving no end of praise to "the good Jesuit Fathers," and speaking of +her devotion to St. Teresa. Madame G——, having sent one of these +letters to Lord Byron, he answered: "I consider all that as <i>very +respectable</i>, and, moreover, <i>enviable</i>. The aunt is right; I wish I +could love the good fathers and St. Teresa. After all, what does this +devotee of St. Teresa, this friend of the good Jesuit Fathers, want? +Happiness; and she has found it! What else are we seeking for?"</p> + +<p>We have already seen elsewhere<a name="FNanchor_153_153" id="FNanchor_153_153"></a><a href="#Footnote_153_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a> that Lord Byron never, at any period +of his life, laughed at religion or its <i>sincere</i> votaries, whatever +might be their creed of belief. Provided their errors came from the +heart, they commanded his respect. Dallas himself, in reference to the +skeptical stanzas of his twenty-second year, can not help rendering him +justice.</p> + +<p>"I have not noticed," says he, "a spirit of mockery in you; and you have +the little-known art of not wishing that others should be of your +opinion in matters of religious belief. I am less disinterested; I have +the greatest desire, nay, even a great hope, to see you some day believe +as I do." We have seen, also, what Kennedy said of him in Greece<a name="FNanchor_154_154" id="FNanchor_154_154"></a><a href="#Footnote_154_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a>. +Dr. Millingen bears the same testimony:—</p> + +<p>"During the whole of the time that I visited him, I never heard him +utter a single word of contempt for the Christian religion. On the +contrary, he used often to say, that nothing could be more reprehensible +than to turn into ridicule those who believed in it, since in this +strange world it is equally difficult to arrive at knowing what one is +or is not to believe; and since many freethinkers teach doctrines which +are as much beyond the reach of human comprehension as the mysteries of +the revelation itself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[Pg 553] </a></span></p><p>When, by habit of looking at serious things from their absurd and +ridiculous side, he feared he had done the same with regard to some +religious ceremony, he at once hastened to explain himself. Thus he +writes to Moore from Pisa:—</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that this sounds flippant, but I don't mean it to be so; +only my turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of +view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then. Still, I do +assure you that I am a very good Christian. Whether you believe me in +this, I do not know."</p> + +<p>But much as he respected sincere religious feelings, equally did he +detest that hypocrisy which despises in secret the idol it adores in +public. Even at the transition period of what has been called his +skepticism, it was extremely distasteful to him to speak against +religion, to despise and mock even the hollow worship practiced +outwardly from human motives and personal interest. In Livadia at this +time he met with a Greek bishop, whose actions were quite at variance +with his language. How great the antipathy Lord Byron conceived for him, +may be seen by the notes appended to the first and second cantos of +"Childe Harold." For the Pharisees of our days he felt all the anger due +to whited sepulchres. No, certainly, it was not true virtue in general, +nor any one virtue in particular, that he laughed at sometimes; nor was +it friendship, or love, or religion, or any truly respectable sentiment +that ever excited his mirth. He only ridiculed semblances, vain +appearances, when those who paraded them did so from <i>personal +interest</i>. Lord Byron knew too well, by experience, that many virtues +admired and set forth as such do but wear a mask in reality; and he +thought it useful for society to divest them of it, and show the hidden +visage. Why should he have shown any consideration for the virtue that +patronizes charity-balls, in order to acquire the right of violating, +with impunity, the duties of a Christian wife? or that other female +virtue which weighs itself in the balance with the privilege of +directing Almacks? or that, wishing to unite the advantages of modesty +with the gratification of passion? In short, why should he have shown +consideration for persons whose merit consists in never <i>allowing +themselves to be seen as they are</i>? He was very disrespectful, likewise, +toward certain friendships that he knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[Pg 554] </a></span> by experience to be full of +wordy counsel, but finding nothing to say in the way of consolation or +defense. This peculiar variety of friendship had made him suffer +greatly. In his serious poems he calls it "<i>the loss of his illusions</i>;" +and expresses himself with misanthropical indignation, or with a +bleeding heart. But, returning to a milder philosophy, he ended by +smiling and jesting at it, in words like these:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Look'd grave and pale to see her friend's fragility,<br /> +For which most friends reserve their sensibility."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Seriously; was he bound to any great tenderness toward such friendship +as that? And does it not suffice to set Lord Byron right with <i>true +friendship</i> to hear him say, after having laughed about false friends:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"But this is not my maxim: had it been,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some heart-aches had been spared me: yet I care not—</span><br /> +I would not be a tortoise in his screen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of stubborn shell, which waves and weather wear not.</span><br /> +'Tis better, on the whole, to have felt and seen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That which humanity may bear, or bear not:</span><br /> +Twill teach discernment to the sensitive,<br /> +And not to pour their ocean in a sieve."<a name="FNanchor_155_155" id="FNanchor_155_155"></a><a href="#Footnote_155_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a><br /> +</div> + +<p>Friendship was so necessary to him that he wrote to Moore, on the eve of +his marriage, 15th of October, 1814:</p> + +<p>"An' there were any thing in marriage that would make a difference +between my friends and me, particularly in your case, I would none +on't."</p> + +<p>People should read all he said of Lord Clare and Moore, and see with +what almost jealous susceptibility he guarded the title of friend,<a name="FNanchor_156_156" id="FNanchor_156_156"></a><a href="#Footnote_156_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a> +before they can understand the value he attached to true friendship. But +among many of the <i>privileges</i> he conceded to friendship, <i>duties</i> also +held their place.</p> + +<p>And if we pass from friendship to love, could he really bestow such +respect on the loves of a Lady Adeline, or of those who, he said, +"embrace you to-day, thinking of the novel they will write to-morrow." +His ideal of true love has been noticed; and he became impatient when he +saw it confounded with any thing else. At twenty-two years of age he +wrote to his young friend, the Rev. Mr. Harness:—</p> + +<p>"I told you the fate of B—— and H—— in my last. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[Pg 555] </a></span> much for these +sentimentalists, who console themselves in their stews for the loss—the +never-to-be-recovered loss—the despair of the refined attachment of a +couple of drabs! You censure my life, Harness: when I compare myself +with these men, my elders and my betters, I really begin to conceive +myself a monument of prudence—a walking statue—without feeling or +failing; and yet the world in general hath given me a proud pre-eminence +over them in profligacy. Yet I like the men, and, God knows, ought not +to condemn their aberrations. But I own I feel provoked when they +dignify all this by the name of love—romantic attachments for things +marketable for a dollar!"</p> + +<p>Yes, Lord Byron never did respect the love that can be bartered for +dollars. And afterward, when irritation had given way to a milder and +more tolerant philosophy, he took the liberty of laughing at it, both in +prose and verse. It may however, be urged against him, that he sometimes +turned into ridicule even his deepest sentiments; and Moore remarks this +as a defeat, apropos of the jesting tone he assumed once at Bologna, +when writing to Hoppner. But Moore forgets to say, that while his heart +called him to Ravenna, he was speaking against the counsels given by +Hoppner, who, in order to deter him from this visit, for reasons +previously cited,<a name="FNanchor_157_157" id="FNanchor_157_157"></a><a href="#Footnote_157_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a> had made the darkest prognostications regarding +its consequence; and though he could not shake Lord Byron's +determination, it is very probable that he may have upset his +imagination. Thus he was trying to show himself ready for every thing. +Such pleasantries are like the song of one who is alarmed in the dark. +Moreover, from his manner of judging human nature, and his lively sense +of the ridiculous, Lord Byron was well aware that a light tone is alone +admissible for speaking to others of a love they do not share, and more +especially when they disapprove of it. He felt that the gayety of Ovid +and the gallantry of Horace are better suited to indifferent people than +Petrarch's high-flown phrases and sentimentalities, or Werther's +despair. It was through this same nice perception of the sentiments +entertained by indifferent individuals that he sometimes adopted a +light, playful tone in conversation, or in his correspondence, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[Pg 556] </a></span> +speaking of friendship, devoted feelings of any kind, and a host of +sentiments very serious and deep within his own heart, but which he +believed less calculated to interest others. And if sometimes his +singular penetration of the human heart called forth mockery, it sprang +more frequently from seeing fine sentiments put forth in flagrant +contradiction with conduct, or morality looked upon as a mere thing of +outward decorum, speedily to be set aside, if once the actors were +removed from the eyes of the world. He would not grant his esteem to +fine sentiments expressed by writers who could be bribed; to the +promises of heroes who noisily enroll combatants, while themselves +remaining safe by their fireside; or to the generosity that displays +itself from a balcony. And, assuredly, he had a right to be particular +in his estimate of this latter virtue, which he himself always practiced +secretly, and in the shade. He would not consent to its being bartered, +nor that people should have the honor of it without any sacrifice on +their part. Thus he replied to Moore, who was in an ecstasy about the +generosity of Lord some one:—"I shall believe all that when you prove +to me that there is no advantage in openly helping a man like you." With +wonderful, and, I might almost say, supernatural perspicacity, Lord +Byron penetrated into the arcana of souls, and did not come out thence +with a very good opinion of what he had seen. But, kind as he was, he +did not like to probe too deeply the motives of others, especially as a +rule of action for himself. As he says in his admirable satire of "Don +Juan,"—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"'Tis sad to burrow deep to roots of things,<br /> +So much are they besmeared with earth."<br /> +</div> + +<p>Lastly, his mockeries were all directed against the vice he most +abhorred—<i>hypocrisy</i>; for he looked upon that as a gangrene to the +soul, the cause of most of the evils that afflict society, and certainly +of all his own misfortunes. As long as he was obliged to bear it, under +the depressing influence of England's misty atmosphere, he felt by turns +saddened and indignant. But when he reached Italy, his soul caught the +bright rays that emanate from a southern sky, and he preferred to combat +hypocrisy with the lighter weapons of pleasantry. But whichsoever arm he +wielded, he always pursued<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[Pg 557] </a></span> the enemy remorselessly, following into +every fastness, of which none knew better than himself each winding and +each resource. For hypocrisy had been the bane of his life; it had +rendered useless for happiness that combination he possessed of Heaven's +choicest gifts; the plenitude of affections, numberless qualities most +charming in domestic life, for he had been exiled from the family +circle. Hypocrisy had <i>forced</i> him to despise a country also that could +act toward him like an unnatural parent, rather than a true mother, +wounding him with calumnies, and obstinately depreciating him, solely +because she allowed hypocrisy to reign on her soil. Such, then, were the +virtues which he permitted himself to mock at.</p> + +<p>"<i>We must not make out a ridicule where none exists</i>," says La Bruyère; +but it is well to see that which has a being, and to draw it forth +gracefully, in a manner that may both please and instruct.</p> + +<p>As to true, holy, pure, undeniable virtues, no one more than he admired +and respected them. "Any trait of virtue or courage," says one of his +biographers, "caused him deep emotion, and would draw tears from his +eyes, provided always he were convinced that it had not been actuated by +a desire of shining or producing effect."</p> + +<p>"A generous action," says another, "the remembrance of patriotism, +personal sacrifice, disinterestedness, would cause in him the most +sublime emotions, the most brilliant thoughts." The more his opinion as +to the rarity of virtue appeared to him well-founded, the more did he +render homage when he met with it. The more he felt the difficulty of +overcoming passions, the more did a victory gained over them excite his +admiration.</p> + +<p>"Pray make my respects to Mrs. Hoppner, and assure her of my unalterable +reverence for the singular goodness of her disposition, which is not +without its reward even in this world. For those who are no great +believers in human virtues would discover enough in her to give them a +better opinion of their fellow-creatures, and—what is still more +difficult—of themselves, as being of the same species, however inferior +in approaching its nobler models."</p> + +<p>At Coppet he was more touched by the conjugal affection of the young +Duchesse de Broglie for her husband, than he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[Pg 558] </a></span> was attracted by the +genius even of her mother, Madame de Stäel. "Nothing," says he in his +memoranda, "was more agreeable than to see the manifestation of domestic +tenderness in this young woman." When he received at Pisa the posthumous +message sent by a beautiful, angelic young creature, who had caught a +glimpse of him but once, and who, nevertheless, in the solemn hours of +her agony, thought of him, and prayed to God for him, it made a deep +impression on his mind.</p> + +<p>"In the evening," says Madame G——, "he spoke to me at great length of +this piety and touching virtue."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stendhall, who knew him during his stay at Milan in 1816, says:—"I +passed almost all my evenings with Lord B. Whenever this singular man +was excited and spoke with enthusiasm, his sentiments were noble, great, +and generous; in short, worthy of his genius."</p> + +<p>And then when Mr. Stendhall speaks of walking alone with him in the +large green-room at La Scala, he adds:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron made his appearance for half an hour every evening, holding +the most delightful conversation it was ever my good-fortune to hear. A +volume of new ideas and generous sentiments came pouring out in such +novel form, that one fancied one's self enjoying them for the first +time. The rest of the evening the great man lapsed into the English +noble."</p> + +<p>Even biographers most hostile to Lord Byron render justice to his +sensibility and respect for real virtue, for all that is true and +estimable. And if we seek proofs of the same in his poems and +correspondence, we shall find it at every page, not excepting "Don +Juan,"—the satire that most exposed him to the anger and calumny of +<i>cant</i>. This is why I shall confine myself to borrowing quotations from +this poem. For instance, in speaking of military glory, he says:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"The drying up a single tear has more<br /> +Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.<br /> +<br /> +"And why?—because it brings self-approbation;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereas the other, after all its glare,</span><br /> +Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles."<a name="FNanchor_158_158" id="FNanchor_158_158"></a><a href="#Footnote_158_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[Pg 559] </a></span></div> + +<p>And then again:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"<i>One</i> life saved ...<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">... is a thing to recollect</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far sweeter than the greenest laurels sprung</span><br /> +From the manure of human clay, though deck'd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With all the praises ever said or sung;</span><br /> +Though hymn'd by every harp, unless within<br /> +Your heart join chorus, Fame is but a din."<a name="FNanchor_159_159" id="FNanchor_159_159"></a><a href="#Footnote_159_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a><br /> +</div> + +<p>When he speaks of Souvaroff, who, with a hand still reeking from the +massacre of 40,000 combatants, began his dispatch to the Autocrat in +these words:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Glory to <i>God</i> and to the Empress [Catharine]! Ismail's ours!"</p></div> + +<p>Lord Byron exclaims:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">"Powers</span><br /> +Eternal! such names mingled!<br /> +<br /> +"Methinks these are the most tremendous words<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since 'Mené, Mené, Tekel,' and 'Upharsin,'</span><br /> +Which hands or pens have ever traced of swords.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heaven help me! I'm but little of a parson:</span><br /> +What Daniel read was short-hand of the Lord's,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Severe, sublime; the prophet wrote no farce on</span><br /> +The fate of nations;—but this Russ so witty<br /> +Could rhyme, like Nero, o'er a burning city.<br /> +<br /> +"He wrote this Polar melody, and set it,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Duly accompanied by shrieks and groans,</span><br /> +Which few will sing, I trust, but none forget it—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I will teach, if possible, the stones</span><br /> +To rise against earth's tyrant's."<a name="FNanchor_160_160" id="FNanchor_160_160"></a><a href="#Footnote_160_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a><br /> +</div> + +<p>And then when he speaks of truly virtuous men—the Washingtons and +Franklins—those who preferred a quiet, retired life; so as better to +walk in the paths of justice and goodness, like the ancient heroes of +Sparta, one feels that his words come really from the heart. But if I +wished to make extracts of all the proofs contained in his works, of +respect and enthusiasm for true virtue, a volume of quotations would be +requisite. Thus I have only chosen some at hazard, selecting them +principally from that admirable satire of "Don Juan," which combines +more deep philosophy and true morality than is to be found in the works +of many moralists; and I may likewise say more wit, and knowledge of the +human heart, more kindness and indulgence, than ever before were united +in a volume of verse or prose, and more, perhaps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[Pg 560] </a></span> than ever will be. +Yet, despite of all this, the independence, boldness, and above all, the +true state of things revealed in "Don Juan," excited great anger +throughout the political, religious, and moral world of England; indeed, +passion went so far in distorting, that the tendency and moral bearing +of the poem were quite misunderstood. With regard to France, where this +satire is only known through a prose translation, which mars half its +cleverness, "Don Juan" serves, however, the purpose of an inexhaustible +reservoir, whence writers unwittingly draw much they deem their own. +Besides, from analogy of race, he is, perhaps, better appreciated in +France than in his own country; for few English do understand what true +justice he rendered himself when he said,—that, in point of fact, his +character was far too lenient, the greatest proof of his muse's +discontent being a smile.</p> + +<p>But if, despite all this evidence, people should still persist, as is +very possible, in asserting that Lord Byron ridiculed, satirized, and +denied the existence of real virtues, at least we would ask to have +these virtues named, so as to be able to answer. What are the virtues so +insulted? Is it truth, piety, generosity, firmness, abnegation, +devotedness, independence, patriotism, humanity, heroism? But if he +denied not one of these, if he only ridiculed and satirized their +semblances, their hypocritical shadows, then let critics and envious +minds—the ignorant, or the would-be ignorant—let them cease, in the +name of justice, thus to offer lying insult to a great spirit no longer +able to defend himself.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he did not render sufficient homage to that great and +respectable virtue of his country—conjugal fidelity; but he has told us +why. It appeared to him that this virtue, supposed to stamp society, +was, in truth, more a pretense than a reality among the higher classes +in England; and, if he examined his own heart, this virtue wore a name +for him that had been the martyrdom of his whole life.</p> + +<p>I may say, farther, that when he saw a truth shining at the expense of +some hypocrisy, he did not <i>shut it up in his casket of precious +things</i>, to carry them with him to the grave, nor did he only name them +in a low voice to his secretaries, because by <i>speaking aloud he might +have done some harm to himself</i> (as, however, the great Goethe did and +<i>acknowledged</i>).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[Pg 561] </a></span> Lord Byron, without thinking of the consequences that +might ensue to himself, deemed, on the contrary, that truth ought to be +courageously unveiled: and to the heroism of deeds he added the heroism +of words.</p> + +<p>It must not be forgotten, either, that there existed a certain kind of +timidity among the other elements of his character, and that jesting +often helps to season a tiresome conversation, rendering it less +difficult, besides enabling us to hide our real sentiments.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[Pg 562] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_149_149" id="Footnote_149_149"></a><a href="#FNanchor_149_149"><span class="label">[149]</span></a> Galt, p. 218.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_150_150" id="Footnote_150_150"></a><a href="#FNanchor_150_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> Kennedy, p. 301.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_151_151" id="Footnote_151_151"></a><a href="#FNanchor_151_151"><span class="label">[151]</span></a> See Galt, with regard to Hunt.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_152_152" id="Footnote_152_152"></a><a href="#FNanchor_152_152"><span class="label">[152]</span></a> Moore, Letter 468.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_153_153" id="Footnote_153_153"></a><a href="#FNanchor_153_153"><span class="label">[153]</span></a> See chapter on "Religion."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_154_154" id="Footnote_154_154"></a><a href="#FNanchor_154_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_155_155" id="Footnote_155_155"></a><a href="#FNanchor_155_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> "Don Juan," canto xiv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_156_156" id="Footnote_156_156"></a><a href="#FNanchor_156_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> See Lord Byron's letter to Mrs. Shelley.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_157_157" id="Footnote_157_157"></a><a href="#FNanchor_157_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_158_158" id="Footnote_158_158"></a><a href="#FNanchor_158_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> "Don Juan," canto viii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_159_159" id="Footnote_159_159"></a><a href="#FNanchor_159_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> "Don Juan," canto ix.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_160_160" id="Footnote_160_160"></a><a href="#FNanchor_160_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> Ibid. canto viii.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE MELANCHOLY OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"To know the real cause of our sadness is near akin to knowing what +we are worth."—<span class="smcap">Paradol</span>, <i>Study on Moralists</i>.</p></div> + + +<p>From all that we have said, and judging from that natural tendency of +his mind to look at even serious things on the ridiculous, laughable +side, would it be correct to infer that Lord Byron was always gay, and +never melancholy? Those maintaining such an opinion, would have to bear +too many contradictions. Physiology, psychology, and history, would +together protest against such an assertion. We affirm, on the contrary, +that Lord Byron was often melancholy; but that, in order to judge well +the nature and shades of his melancholy, it is necessary to analyze and +observe it, not only in his writings, but also in his conduct through +life. Whence arose his melancholy? Was it one of those moral +infirmities, incurable and causeless, commencing from the cradle, like +that of René, whose childhood was morose, and whose youth disdainful; +who, ere he had known life, seemed to bend beneath its mysteries; who +knowing not how to be young, will no more know how to be old; who in all +things wanted order, proportion, harmony, truth; who had nothing to +produce equilibrium between the power of genius and the indolence of +will? This kind of melancholy is fatal to the practice of any virtue, +and seems like a sacrifice of heart on the altar of pride. Was it a +melancholy like Werther's, whose senses, stimulated by passion, of which +society opposed the development, carried perturbation also into the +moral regions? Was it the deep mysterious ailment of Hamlet, at once +both meek and full of logic? or the sickness of that "masculine breast +with feeble arms;" "of that philosopher who only wanted strength to +become a saint;" "of that bird without wings," said a woman of genius, +"that exhales its calm melancholy plaint on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[Pg 563] </a></span>shores whence vessels +depart, and where only shivered remnants return;" the melancholy of an +Obermann, whose goodness and almost ascetic virtues are palsied for want +of equilibrium, and whose discouragement and ennui were only calculated +to exercise a baneful influence over the individual, and over humanity? +No; the <i>striking</i> characteristics that exist in all these sorts of +melancholy are utterly wanting to Lord Byron's. His was not a melancholy +that had become chronic, like René's, ere arriving at life's maturity. +For, whereas, the child René was gloomy and wearied, the child Byron was +passionate and sensitive, but gay, amusing, and frolicsome. His fits of +melancholy were only developed under the action of thought, reflection, +and circumstances. Nor was it Werther's kind of melancholy; for, even at +intensest height of passion, reason never abandoned its sway over Lord +Byron's energetic soul; with himself, if not with his heroes, personal +sacrifice always took, or wished to take, the place of satisfied +passion.</p> + +<p>It was not that of Hamlet, for a single instant's dissimulation would +have been impossible for Lord Byron. It was not that of Obermann, for +his energetic nature could not partake the weakness and powerlessness of +Oberon; his strength equalled his genius.</p> + +<p>It was not, either, that of Childe Harold, for this hero of his first +poem is, in the first and second canto, the personification of youthful +exquisites, with senses dulled and satiated by excesses to which Lord +Byron had never yielded when he composed this type, since he was then +only twenty-one years of age, and had hardly quitted the university, +where he lived surrounded by intellectual friends, who have all +testified to his mode of life there, and then at Newstead Abbey, where +he may have become a little dissipated, but still without any excess +capable of engendering satiety. Nor was his melancholy that of the +darker heroes he has described in "Lara" and "Manfred," for he never +knew remorse; and we have already seen to what must be attributed all +these identifications between himself and his heroes.<a name="FNanchor_161_161" id="FNanchor_161_161"></a><a href="#Footnote_161_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a></p> + +<p>In general, these kinds of melancholy have other causes, or else they +arise from individual organization. With him, on the contrary, +melancholy always originated from some moral<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[Pg 564] </a></span> external cause, which +would tend to show, that without such cause, his melancholy would not +have existed, or else might have been quite overcome. But, before +arriving at a definition, we must analyze it, after taking a rapid +glance at his whole life.</p> + +<p>It has even been said, that our conduct in early years offers a sure +indication of our future; that the man does but continue the child. Let +us then begin by studying Byron during his childhood. We know from the +testimony of his nurses and preceptors, both in Scotland and England, +that goodness, sensibility, tenderness, and likewise gayety, with a +tendency to jesting, formed the basis of his character. Nevertheless, a +yearning after solitude led him into solitary distant walks, along the +sea-shore when he was living at Aberdeen, or amid the wild poetic +mountains of Scotland, near the romantic banks of the Dee, often putting +his life in danger, and causing much alarm to his mother. But this +sprang simply from his ardent nature, which, far from inclining him to +melancholy, made earth seem like a paradise.</p> + +<p>Has he not described these ecstasies of his childhood in "Tasso's +Lament:"—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"From my very birth my soul was drunk with love," etc.<br /> +</p> + +<p>This want of solitude became still more remarkable as reflection +acquired further development. At Harrow, he would leave his favorite +games and dear companions to go and sit alone on the stone which bears +his name. But this want of living alone sometimes in the fairyland of +his imagination, feeding on his own sentiments, and the bright illusions +of his youthful soul, was that what is yclept melancholy? No, no; what +he experienced was but the harbinger of genius, destined to dazzle the +world; Disraeli, that great observer of the race of geniuses, so +affirms:—</p> + +<p>"Eagles fly alone," exclaims Sydney, "while sheep are ever to be found +in flocks."</p> + +<p>Almost all men of genius have experienced this precocious desire of +solitude. But Lord Byron, who united so many contrasts, and, according +to Moore, the faculties of several men, had also much of the child about +him. And, while almost all children belonging to the race of great +intellects,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[Pg 565] </a></span> have neither taste nor aptitude for bodily exercises and +games of dexterity, he, by exception to the general rule, on coming out +of his reveries, experienced equally the want of giving himself up +passionately to the play and stir of companions who were inferior to him +in intelligence. Up to this, then, we can discover no symptom in him of +that <i>fatal</i> kind of melancholy—that which is <i>hereditary</i> and +<i>causeless</i>. But anon, his heart begins to beat high, and the boy +already courts aspirations, ardent desires, illusions that may well be +destined to agitate, afflict, or even overwhelm him. Meanwhile let us +follow him from Harrow to the vacations passed at Nottingham and +Southwell. There we shall see him acting plays with enthusiasm, making +himself the life of the social circle assembled round the amiable Pigott +family, delighting in music, and writing his first effusions in verse. +Certainly it was not melancholy that predominated in his early poems, +but rather generosity, kindness, sincerity, the ardor of a loving heart, +the aspiration after all that is passionate, noble, great, virtuous and +heroic; but these verses also make us feel by a thousand delicate shades +of sentiment portrayed, and by cherished illusions pertinaciously held, +that melancholy may hereafter succeed in making new passage for itself, +and finding out the path to that loving, passionate heart. And, in +truth, it did more than once penetrate there. For death snatched from +him, first, two dear companions of his childhood, and then the young +cousin, who beneath an angel's guise on earth, first awakened the fire +of love. And afterward Lord Byron gave his heart, of fifteen, to another +affection, was deceived, met with no return,<a name="FNanchor_162_162" id="FNanchor_162_162"></a><a href="#Footnote_162_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a> but, on the contrary, +was sorely wounded. Yet all the melancholy thus engendered was +accidental and factitious, springing from the excessive sensibility of +his physical and moral being, as well as from circumstances; his griefs +resembled the usual griefs of youth. It was in these dispositions that +he quitted Harrow for Cambridge University. There, one of the greatest +sorrows of his life overtook him. It was a complex sentiment, made up of +regret at having left his beloved Harrow, of grief at the recent loss of +a cherished affection, and, lastly, sadness caused by a very modest and +very singular feeling for a youth of his age; he regretted no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[Pg 566] </a></span> longer +feeling himself a child, which regret can only be explained by a +presentiment of therefore soon being called on to renounce other +illusions. This is how he spoke of it still, when at Ravenna, in 1821:—</p> + +<p>"It was one of the most fatal and crushing sentiments of my life, to +feel that I was no longer a child."</p> + +<p>He fell ill from it. But all these sorts of melancholy, arising from +<i>palpable avowed</i> causes, having their origin in the heart, might +equally find their cure in the heart. Already did imagination transport +him toward his beloved Ida, and he consoled himself by saying, that if +love has wings, friendship ought to have none. If this were an illusion, +he completed it by writing that charming poem of his youth, "Friendship +is Love without Wings."<a name="FNanchor_163_163" id="FNanchor_163_163"></a><a href="#Footnote_163_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a></p> + +<p>At Cambridge he met again one of his dearest friends from Harrow, Edward +Long; he also made acquaintance with the amiable Eddlestone, and his +melancholy disappeared in the genial atmosphere of friendship. As long +as these dear friends remained near him he was happy, even at Cambridge. +But they were called to different careers, and destiny separated them. +Long, with whom he had passed such happy days,<a name="FNanchor_164_164" id="FNanchor_164_164"></a><a href="#Footnote_164_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a> left the first to go +into the guards. Eddlestone remained, but Lord Byron himself was already +about to quit Cambridge. During the vacation, we see him modestly +preparing his first poems intended as an offering to Friendship; then +going to a watering-place with some respectable friends; devoting +himself with ardor to dramatic representations at the amateur theatre at +Southwell, where he was more than ever the life of society; and thus he +remained a whole year away from Cambridge, often seeing his dear Long +again in London, and visiting Harrow with him. When he returned, in +1807, to Cambridge, Long had already left, and Eddlestone was shortly to +go; thus, he no longer heard the song of that amiable youth, nor the +flute of his dear Long, and melancholy well-nigh seized hold on him. +Nevertheless, he consoled himself with projects for the future. Besides, +he was already nineteen years of age, had made some progress in the +journey of life, probably leaving some illusions behind him on the +bushes that lined the roadside, and perhaps his soul had already lost +somewhat of its early purity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[Pg 567] </a></span> He had certainly seen that many things in +the moral world were far removed from the ideal forms with which he had +invested them; that love, even friendship, virtue, patriotism, +generosity, and goodness, by no means attained the height of his first +convictions. A year before, he had said: "I have tasted the joy and the +bitterness of love." Willingly again would he have given way to the +emotions of the heart; but he too soon perceived that to do so were a +useless, dangerous luxury,—a language scarcely understood in the world +in which he moved; that the idols he had believed of precious metal, +were, in reality, made of vile clay. Then he also resolved on taking his +degrees in vice; but, unlike others, he did so <i>with disgust</i>, and he +called satiety, not the <i>quantity</i>, but the <i>quality</i> of the aliment. A +year before he had also said: "<i>I have found that a friend may promise +and yet deceive.</i>"</p> + +<p>Magnanimous as he was, he made advances to the guilty friend, and took +half the blame on himself; but in vain was he generous, saying, with +tears that flowed from his heart to his pen:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If danger demanded, were wholly your own;</span><br /> +You knew me unalter'd by years or by distance,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Devoted to love and to friendship alone."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>And then:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Repentance will cancel the vow you have made."<br /> +</div> + +<p>And again:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"With me no corroding resentment shall live:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My bosom is calm'd by the simple reflection,</span><br /> +That both may be wrong, and that both should forgive."<br /> +</div> + +<p>The friend did not return, and Lord Byron's generous, pure, delicate +nature—fearful lest he might be in the wrong—could only find peace in +trying to offer reparation. He wrote to Lord Clare:—</p> + +<p>"I have, therefore, made all the reparation in my power, by apologizing +for my mistake, though with very faint hopes of success. His answer has +not arrived, and, most probably, never will. However, I have eased my +own conscience by the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[Pg 568] </a></span>atonement, which is humiliating enough to one of +my disposition; yet I could not have slept satisfied with the reflection +of having, even unintentionally, injured any individual. I have done all +that could be done to repair the injury, and there the affair must rest. +Whether we renew our intimacy or not is of very trivial consequence."</p> + +<p>But although he could no longer rely entirely upon his heart for +defending his loved illusions so cruelly attacked by reality, yet it was +not possible for him to put out of sight his ideal of all the beauties +of soul whose presence was a condition of his being. And it was this +presence that made material dissipated life, and also the intellectual +routine existence at Granta, both appear so unattractive to him. He +wrote a satire on them, and the blame inflicted shows his fine nature. +When evil was thus judged, thus condemned, alike by pen and heart, there +could be no real danger; not even had it power to sadden him. A more +formidable peril menaced him from another side. Sadness might now reach +his heart through his mind. That deep intellect, so given to analyze, +meditate, generalize, from childhood upward, according to the relative +capacity of age, was ever busy with the great problems of life. It has +been seen that he began to worry even his nurses with childish +questions, and afterward much more to embarrass his tutors, masters +etc., and especially the excellent Dr. Glenny at Dulwich. A natural +tendency fortified by early religious education evidently drew his heart +to God; but, on the other hand, a logical mind, fond of investigating +every thing, made him experience the necessity of examining his grounds +of belief. The answers, all ready prepared, made to him on great +questions could not satisfy him; he required to discuss their basis. +Already the increasing play of his faculties had been revealed in that +beautiful Prayer to the Divinity which constitutes his profession of +faith and worship, "every line of which," says Moore, "is instinct with +fervent sadness, as of a heart that grieves at loss of its illusions."</p> + +<p>On arriving this year at Cambridge, he found, amid a circle of +intellectual companions which Moore calls "a brilliant pleiad," a young +man of genius, an extraordinary thinker, a mind that had, perhaps, some +affinity to his own, but which, devoid of his sensibility and logic, +surpassed him in hardihood; a bold spirit, striving to scrutinize the +inscrutable, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[Pg 569] </a></span> not content with analysis, desirous to arrive at +<i>conclusions</i>. Through the natural influence of example, and more +especially the irresistible fascination exercised by a great +intelligence, uniting also the spirit of fun, so amusing to Lord Byron +because so like his own; from all these causes, Matthews exercised an +immense influence over him. This young man loved to plunge his head into +depths from whence he emerged all dizzy. Lord Byron was guided by too +reasonable a mind to arrive at such results. He refused to follow where +deformity and evil were to ensue, and persisted still in looking upward. +Still, however, he allowed his eyes to wander over the magic glass, +where danced a few pretended certainties conjoined with a host of +doubts. The first he rejected, as too antipathetic to his soul, but +perhaps he did not sufficiently repel all the doubts. And, being no +longer alarmed at sounding such depths, he imbibed seeds of doctrine +capable of producing incredulity or, at least, skepticism. Happily these +seeds required a dry soil to fructify, and his, being so rich, they +<i>perished</i>, after a short period of wretched existence. All these +influences, and this precocious experience, were for him at this time a +sort of personification of Mephistopheles, although not entailing +serious consequences; for in the main his belief was not deeply shaken. +It had no other effect than to throw him, for a time, into uncertainty +on points necessary to him, "and to teach him," says Moore, "to feel +less embarrassed in a <i>sort</i> of skepticism."</p> + +<p>This disagreement between his reason and his aspirations becoming deeper +and wider, his mind ceased always to follow his heart. But the latter +following rather the former, though with sadness and fatigue, and all +the problems of life becoming more and more enveloped in darkness, it is +possible that he passed through gloomy hours, wherein equivocal +expressions escaped his pen. In a word, if he avoided dizziness, he was +not equally fortunate with regard to ennui.</p> + +<p>"Ennui," says the clever Viscomte D'Yzarn de Freissinet, in his deep and +delightful book, "<i>Les Pensées grises</i>," "ennui is felt by ordinary +minds because they can not understand earth, and by superior ones +because they can not understand heaven."</p> + +<p>Let us now observe Byron after he had taken his degrees<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[Pg 570] </a></span> at the +university, and when about to enter into possession of his estates. On +seeing this young nobleman of twenty, almost an orphan, commence his +career perfectly independent, call around him at Newstead Abbey his dear +companions of Harrow and Cambridge, make up masquerades with them, don +the costume of abbots and monks, pass the nights in running about his +own parks and the heather of Sherwood Forest, and the days amid youthful +eccentricities, amiable hospitality, and London dissipation, it would +seem as if this odd, shifting, noisy kind of life, however efficient for +developing knowledge of men and things, must inevitably obliterate all +trace of melancholy.</p> + +<p>But it was not so; the responsibilities of life began too soon for him, +and the joyous horizon of his twentieth year was already dotted with +black marks indicative of the approaching tempest. In the first place, +the cassock of a real priest never reposed on a heart more sensitive, +endowed with feelings deeper and less hostile to audacity of mind. +Moreover, the griefs of his boyhood had sown seeds of sadness in his +heart, and the unjust cruel criticism lavished on his early poems had +already inflicted a deep wound. Lord Byron, it is true, thought to heal +this by writing a satire; still, despite the vein of pleasantry +indulged, he continued to discipline his mind by serious study of the +great masters of literature and of the deepest thinkers.</p> + +<p>It must be acknowledged that the balm he sought in <i>satire</i>, was a +dangerous caustic which, while closing one wound, might well cause +others to open. At the same time, the money embarrassments inherited +from his predecessor in the estate went on accumulating, and the period +was approaching when the cassock, donned in boyish fun, was to be +exchanged for the grave ermine of a peer of the realm. Who should +present him, then, to the noble assembly, if not his guardian, and near +relative, the Earl of Carlisle? The young lord had always met his +coldness with deference and respect, even dedicating his early poems to +him. But the noble earl now still further aggravated his unkind conduct +toward his ward by abandoning him at this solemn moment. Not only did he +refuse to lend countenance himself, but he even hurt and wounded Lord +Byron by interposing delays so as to prevent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_571" id="Page_571">[Pg 571] </a></span> or put off his reception +in the House of Peers, and that <i>solely because he did not like the +young man's mother</i>! It would be impossible for the most loving heart, +the one most susceptible of family affections, not to have felt cruelly, +under such circumstances, the absence of near ties, and Lord Byron did +not then know his sister. Suffer he did, of course; and, had it not been +for a distant relative, despite his high birth and wondrous gifts, he +must have entered the august assembly accompanied only by his title. +However frivolous the young man might have appeared, he was not so in +reality; and he hesitated at this time between a project of travelling +for information, and the desire to take part immediately in the labors +of the Senate. Some months before, attaining his majority, when the wish +of travelling predominated, after having informed his mother of a +thousand arrangements, all equally affectionate, wise, and generous, +that he was about to take for her during his absence, he wrote that he +proposed visiting Persia, India, and other countries.</p> + +<p>"If I do not travel now," said he, "I never shall, and all men should, +one day or other. I have, at present, no connections to keep me at home; +no wife, or unprovided sisters, brothers, etc. I shall take care of you, +and when I return I may possibly become a politician. A few years' +knowledge of other countries than our own will not incapacitate me for +that part. If we see no nation but our own, we do not give mankind a +fair chance: it is from experience, not books, we ought to judge of +them. There is nothing like inspection and trusting to our senses."</p> + +<p>But while cherishing these ideas, his mind at the same time wavered +between the two projects,—Parliament attracted him greatly. Despite his +light words, the love of true and merited glory, of the beautiful and +the good, ever inflamed his heart. What he wrote a year or two before, +to his counsellor and friend, the Rev. Mr. Beecher, had not ceased to be +his programme.<a name="FNanchor_165_165" id="FNanchor_165_165"></a><a href="#Footnote_165_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a> He said to his mother, a short time before his +majority, that he thought it indispensable, "as a preparation for the +future, to make a speech in the House, as soon as he was admitted." He +wrote the same thing still more explicitly to Harness; for he then +thought seriously of entering upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_572" id="Page_572">[Pg 572] </a></span> politics without delay, and his +rights as a hereditary legislator paved the way for it. Nevertheless, +being hurt, disappointed, and indignant at his guardian's conduct, and +feeling himself isolated, he not only renounced taking any active part +in the debates of his colleagues, but, according to Moore, appeared to +consider the obligation of being among them painful and mortifying. +Thus, a few days after entering Parliament, he returned disgusted to the +solitude of his abbey, there to meditate on the bitterness of precocious +experience, or upon scenes that appeared more vast to his independent +spirit, than those which his country presented.</p> + +<p>The final decision soon came. He resolved on leaving England and taking +a long journey with his friend Hobhouse, on seeking sunshine, +experience, and forgetfulness for his wounded soul. It seemed really at +that moment as if, through an accumulation of disappointment, injustice +and grief, the result of lost illusions (he had already written the +epitaph on "Boatswain"), as if, I say, some germs of misanthropy were +beginning to appear. But his bitterness did not reach, or rather, did +not change his heart: every thing proves this. One of his friends, Lord +Faulkland, was killed in a duel about this time; and our misanthrope not +only was inconsolable, but, despite the embarrassment of his own +affairs, generously assisted the family of the deceased, who had been +left in distress. Dallas, who, through his prejudices, personal +susceptibilities, and exaggerated opinions, shows so little indulgence +to Lord Byron, thus describes however the impression made on him, and +his conduct under the circumstances:—</p> + +<p>"Nature had gifted Lord Byron with most benevolent sentiments, which I +had frequent opportunities of perceiving; and I sometimes saw them give +to his beautiful countenance an expression truly sublime. I paid him a +visit the day after Lord Faulkland's death; he had just seen the +lifeless body of one in whose society he had lately passed a pleasant +day. He was saying to himself aloud, from time to time—'Poor +Faulkland!' His look was more expressive than his words. 'But,' he +added, 'his wife! 'tis she that is to be pitied!' I read his soul full +of the kindest intentions, nor were they sterile. If ever there were a +pure action, it was the one he meditated then; and the man who conceived +and accomplished<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573">[Pg 573] </a></span> it was at that moment advancing through thorns and +briers toward the free but narrow path that leads to heaven."<a name="FNanchor_166_166" id="FNanchor_166_166"></a><a href="#Footnote_166_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a></p> + +<p>He was setting out then on a long journey. And at that period long +journeys were serious things. His first desire was to have a farewell +meeting at Newstead, of all his old school-fellows. And that not +sufficing, he even wished to carry their image away with him, so as to +enjoy a sensible means of recalling tender remembrances of the past. But +his heart found an aliment for misanthropy in the selfish answer given +by one of his comrades, who was alarmed at the expense of getting a +portrait taken. We see the impression made by this ungenerous reply, in +the letter he addressed to his friend Harness:—</p> + +<p>"I am going abroad, if possible, in the spring, and before I depart I am +collecting the pictures of my most intimate school-fellows. I want +yours; I have commissioned one of the first miniature painters of the +day to take them, of course, at my own expense, as I never allow any to +incur the least expenditure to gratify a whim of mine. To mention this +may seem indelicate; but when I tell you a friend of ours first refused +to sit, under the idea that he was to <i>disburse</i> on the occasion, you +will see that it is <i>necessary</i> to state these preliminaries, to prevent +the recurrence of any similar mistake. It will be a tax on your patience +for a week, but pray excuse it, as it is possible the resemblance may be +the sole trace I shall be able to preserve of our past friendship. Just +now it seems foolish enough, but in a few years, when some of us are +dead, and others are separated by inevitable circumstances, it will be a +kind of satisfaction to retain, in these images of the living, the idea +of our former selves, and to contemplate, in the resemblances of the +dead, all that remains of judgment, feeling, and a host of passions."</p> + +<p>If misanthropy had not been an element heterogeneous to his character, +it might well have assumed larger proportions at this moment; for, on +the very eve of his departure from England, his heart had yet to suffer +one of those chilling shocks to which sensitive natures, removed far +above the usual temperature of the world, says Moore, are only too <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_574" id="Page_574">[Pg 574] </a></span>much +exposed. And this proof of coldness, which he complains of with +indignation in a note to the second canto of "Childe Harold," was given +precisely by one of the friends he most loved. Mr. Dallas, who witnessed +the immediate effect produced by this mark of coldness, thus describes +it:</p> + +<p>"I found him bursting with indignation. '<i>Will you believe it?</i>' said +he, 'I <i>have just</i> met —— and asked him to come and sit an hour with +me; he excused himself; and what do you think was his excuse? He was +engaged with his mother and some ladies to go shopping! And he knows I +set out to-morrow to be absent for years, perhaps never to return? +Friendship! I do not believe I shall leave behind me, yourself and +family excepted, and perhaps my mother, a single being who will care +what becomes of me!'"<a name="FNanchor_167_167" id="FNanchor_167_167"></a><a href="#Footnote_167_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a></p> + +<p>The conduct of this friend gave him so much pain, that a year after he +wrote again about it, from Constantinople, to Dallas:—</p> + +<p>"The only person I counted would feel grieved at my departure took leave +of me with such coldness, that if I had not known the heart of man I +should have been surprised. I should have attributed it to some offenses +on my part, had I ever been guilty of aught save <i>too much affection</i> +for him."</p> + +<p>Dallas thought that some lady, from a spirit of vengeance, had excited +this young man to slight Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>I will not here seek to discover whether he was right or wrong. It +suffices that he could believe it, for me to say, that this singular +misanthropy, born of heart-deceptions, was in reality nothing else but +grief, the causes of which might each be enumerated, but the intensity +of which we do not really know, since that deep capacity is the sad +privilege of beings highly endowed.</p> + +<p>In any case, it is certain that when he left England the measure of +disappointments capable of producing real melancholy in such a sensitive +heart was quite filled up. Is it, then, surprising that he, like his +hero, "Childe Harold," should see with indifference the shores of his +native land recede? But if, unhappily, the gloomy ideas he welcomed for +a moment brought about a regrettable habit, no more to be lost, of +adopting, in his language spoken and written, expressions and +mystifications that too often concealed his real feelings, only letting +them be seen through the medium of his mind (a sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_575" id="Page_575">[Pg 575] </a></span> way of making him +misunderstood), he could not long stand against the proofs of real +attachment shown him by his fellow-traveller, and, indeed, by all who +came near him. Even before setting sail, the influence of this +sentiment, combined with his natural disposition to gayety, became +visible; all annoyances seemed forgotten in the agreeable sensation of a +first voyage that was to bear him away from the country where he had +suffered so much, and which would probably show him, in other lands, +more favorable specimens of the human race. Indeed, this is quite +evident in the letters and gay verses sent off from Falmouth to his +friends Drury and Hodgson, as well as in the more serious strain, though +still gay and affectionate, in which he, at the same time, addressed his +mother.<a name="FNanchor_168_168" id="FNanchor_168_168"></a><a href="#Footnote_168_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a></p> + +<p>Hardly had he landed at Lisbon, when his heart, yearning after the +beautiful, expanded into admiration at sight of the Tagus and the +beauties of Cintra; displaying alike his high moral sense of things, +whether he expressed admiration or inflicted blame.<a name="FNanchor_169_169" id="FNanchor_169_169"></a><a href="#Footnote_169_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a></p> + +<p>We see his whole nature revolt at baseness, ingratitude, cowardice, +ferocity, all kinds of moral deformity; just as much as it was attracted +and delighted by patriotism, courage, devotion, sacrifice, love carried +to heroism, grace, and beauty. We perceive, in the poet's soul, a +freshness and a moral vigor, that shine all the more brightly, +contrasted with the misanthropical melancholy of the hero of his legend. +But this personage had been imprudently chosen to typify a state of mind +into which youth often falls, and which, perhaps, Lord Byron himself +went through during a few short hours of disenchantment. The impressions +thus gathered, were treasured in his memory until they came to maturity +some months later; then they issued from his pen in flowing numbers, +whose magic power he then ignored: but assuredly the fine sentiments +expressed came from the soul of the minstrel, not from the satiated +feelingless hero, who was incapable of experiencing them. Let people +only make the distinction between the two personages whom malice has +taken pleasure in confounding, an error willingly adopted by a certain +set and imposed on credulous minds.<a name="FNanchor_170_170" id="FNanchor_170_170"></a><a href="#Footnote_170_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576">[Pg 576] </a></span></p> + +<p>The relation between the two is not one of family or race, but a purely +accidental external resemblance; the result of some strange fancy and +intellectual want in the poet, whose powerful imagination, while having +recourse only to his own spontaneity for the creation of ideal beings +and types, yet required to rest always on reality, for painting the +material world and for embodying his metaphysical conceptions.</p> + +<p>Thus these two personages leave the same shore, on the same vessel, to +make the same voyage, and meet with the same adventures. Both have the +same family relations,—a mother, a sister; yes, but their souls are not +in the same state, because not of the same nature. That results clearly +from a simple inspection of the poem, for all who read in good faith; +since, out of 191 stanzas that make up the first two cantos of "Childe +Harold," there are 112 wherein the poet forgets his hero, speaks in his +own name, and shows his real soul—a soul full of energy and beauty, +becoming enthusiastic at sight of the wonders displayed in creation, of +grandeur, virtue, and love.</p> + +<p>Moralists of good faith can tell whether a mind that was corrupted, +satiated, wearied, could possibly have felt such enthusiasm. In reality, +these emotions betokened the future poet, then unknown to the world and +to himself. Let us return to the man,—the best justification for the +poet. From Lisbon he wrote another letter, full of fun, to his friend +Hodgson. Already he found all well; better than in England. Already he +declared himself greatly amused with his pilgrimage: the sight of the +Tagus pleased him, Cintra delighted him; he talked Latin at the convent, +fed on oranges, embraced every body, asked news of every body and every +thing; "and we find him," says Moore, "in this charming, gay, sportive, +schoolboy humor, just at the very moment that 'Childe Harold' is about +to reveal to the world his misanthropy, disgust, and insensibility. Lord +Byron went from Lisbon to Seville, going seventy miles a day on +horseback in the heat of a Spanish July, always delighted, complaining +of nothing (in a country where all was wanting), and he arrived in +perfect health. There, in that beautiful city of serenades and +love-making courtships, his handsome face and person immediately +attracted the attention of the fair sex. He was not insensible to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_577" id="Page_577">[Pg 577] </a></span> +lively demonstrations of two sisters, and especially of the beauteous +Doña Josefa, who declared, with naïve Spanish frankness, how much she +liked him. This young girl and her sister, who was equally charming, +made him all kinds of offers, saying, when he left:—'Adieu, handsome +creature, I like thee much; and Josefa asked to have at least a lock of +his beautiful hair. On arriving at Cadiz, the lovely daughter of an +admiral of high birth, with whom he was thrown in contact, could not +hide from her parents or himself her partiality for him. She wished to +teach him Spanish, never thought he could be near enough to her at the +theatre, called him to her side in crowds, made him accompany her home, +invited him to return to Cadiz, and, in short," Moore says:—</p> + +<p>"Knowing the beauties of Cadiz, his imagination, dazzled by the +attraction of several, was on the point of being held captive by one."</p> + +<p>He escaped this danger from being obliged to set out for Gibraltar, +where he also met with many attentions from persons of rank among his +countrymen; but he encountered another peril at the island of Calypso +(Malta). For he met there a real Calypso,—a young woman of +extraordinary beauty (the daughter and the wife of an ambassador), and +no less remarkable for her qualities of mind than for her singular +position. All his time at Malta was passed between studying a language +and the society of this goddess. And the true account of the attraction +with which he inspired this beautiful heroine, and which he amply +returned, is not certainly to be found in the stanzas of "Childe +Harold," but in the verses addressed from the monastery of Zitza to the +beautiful Florence, who had carried off at the same time (says he) both +the ring he had refused to the Seville beauty and likewise his heart. On +arriving in Albania (ancient Epirus), he went to visit Ali Pasha at +Tepeleni, his country-seat; and the sight of this beautiful, amiable +young man so softened the heart of the ferocious old Moslem, that he +wished to be considered as Lord Byron's father, treated him like a son, +caused his palaces to be opened to him, surrounding him with the most +delicate attentions, sending him fresh drinks and all the delicacies of +an Oriental table; he also ordered the Albanian selected to accompany +Lord Byron to defend him if requisite at the peril<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_578" id="Page_578">[Pg 578] </a></span> of his life. This +Albanian, named Basilius, would not leave Lord Byron afterward. Wherever +any English residents, consuls, or ambassadors could be found, Lord +Byron was the object of a thousand attentions and kindnesses. At +Constantinople, the English ambassador, Adair, wished him to lodge at +his palace; Mr. S—— proposed the same thing at Patras. When he fell +ill, he was taken care of, most affectionately even, by the Albanese. +All the sympathies enlisted during his travels (and those who knew him +thought them most natural) must certainly have acted on his loving, +grateful heart, banishing misanthropy if he had experienced it. But did +it really exist? Must not even his peace of conscience have +counterbalanced bitter remembrances?</p> + +<p>His conscience was unburdened, for the griefs he had had were not +merited by him. If a young girl had deceived him, he on his side had +deceived no one; if a guardian had neglected and failed in duties toward +him, he had always behaved respectfully toward this bad guardian. If +hard-hearted critics had insulted, and tried to stifle his budding +genius, modest and timid withal, he had already taken his revenge, sure +to repent some day of the harshness and injustice which passion had, +perhaps, led him into; if his affairs were embarrassed, they had come to +him thus by inheritance. If he had taken a share in some youthful +dissipation, disgust had quickly followed; not a tear or a seduction had +he wherewith to reproach himself. All these testimonies furnished by his +conscience, and so consoling in every case, must have been doubly so to +a heart like his, which, by his own avowal, could not <i>go to rest</i> with +the weight of <i>any remorse</i> upon it. And, truly, all his correspondence +certifies this.</p> + +<p>Already at Gibraltar, Lord Byron began writing letters full of clever +pleasantry, either to his mother or his friends, and his correspondence +always continued in the same tone, with nothing that betrayed +melancholy, far less misanthropy like Childe Harold's, although he was +composing that poem at this time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_579" id="Page_579">[Pg 579] </a></span></p><p>At Malta, it was impossible to find shelter.<a name="FNanchor_171_171" id="FNanchor_171_171"></a><a href="#Footnote_171_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a> His companions grew +impatient, but Lord Byron retained his good-humor, laughing and joking. +On the mountains of Epirus, which were infested by brigands, the +Albanian escort, given him by Ali Pasha, lost their way in the middle of +the night, and were surprised by a terrific storm. For nine hours he +advanced on horseback under torrents of rain; and when at last he +reached his companions his gayety was still the same. Assailed by a +frightful tempest while going by sea from Constantinople to Athens, +shipwreck seemed impending. Every one was crying out in despair; Lord +Byron alone consoled and encouraged the rest, then he wrapped himself up +in his Albanian capote, and went to sleep quietly, until his fate should +be decided. On visiting a cavern with his friend Hobhouse, they lost +their way, their torch went out, and they had no prospect but to remain +there, and perish with hunger. Hobhouse was in despair; but Lord Byron +kept up his courage with jests, and presence of mind fit to save them, +and which did so in effect. Privations, rigor of seasons, sufferings +that drew complaints from the least delicate, and from his own servants, +had no effect on his good-humor.<a name="FNanchor_172_172" id="FNanchor_172_172"></a><a href="#Footnote_172_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a></p> + +<p>All this does not simply show his courage and good natural dispositions, +it likewise proves that there was not the making of a misanthrope in +him. And besides, his fellow-traveller Hobhouse says so positively, in +his account of their journey, when relating why Lord Byron could not +accompany him in an excursion to Negropont; for he energetically +expresses his regret at being obliged to separate, even for so short a +time, from a companion, who, according to him, <i>united to perspicacity +of wit and originality of observation, that gay and lively temper which +keeps attention awake under the pressure of fatigue, softening every +difficulty and every danger</i>.</p> + +<p>Truly it might be said that Lord Byron was superior to the weaknesses of +humanity. He was evidently patient and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_580" id="Page_580">[Pg 580] </a></span>amiable in the highest degree. +Greece appeared to him delightful,—an enchanting country with a +cloudless sky. He liked Athens so much that, on quitting it for the +first time, he was obliged to set off at a gallop to have courage enough +to go. And when he returned there, though from the cloister of the +Franciscan monastery, where he had fixed his abode, he could no longer +even perceive the pretty heads of the three Graces <i>entre les plantes +embaumées de la cour</i>; he felt himself just as happy, because he devoted +his time to study, and mixed with persons of note—such as the +celebrated Lady Hester Stanhope, Lord Sligo, and Bruce: souvenirs which +he has consecrated in his memoirs, saying Lady Hester's (?) was the most +delightful acquaintance he had made in Greece.<a name="FNanchor_173_173" id="FNanchor_173_173"></a><a href="#Footnote_173_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a></p> + +<p>He saw Greeks, Turks, Italians, French, and Germans, and was delighted. +Now could he observe the character of persons of all nations, and he +became more than ever persuaded that travelling is necessary to complete +a man's education; he was happy at being able to verify the superiority +of his own country, and to increase his knowledge by finding the +contrary. He was never either disappointed or disgusted. He lived with +both great and small; passing days in the palaces of pashas, and nights +in cow-stables with shepherds; always temperate, he never enjoyed better +health. "Truly," said he, "I have no cause to complain of my destiny." +At Constantinople he found the inhabitants good and peaceable; the Turks +appeared superior to the Greeks, the Greeks to the Spaniards, and the +Spaniards to the Portuguese. It was the man wearied of all, the +misanthrope, who wrote all this to his mother, concluding thus:—"I have +gone through a great deal of fatigue, but have <i>not felt wearied for one +instant</i>!"</p> + +<p>All the letters addressed to his friends Drury and Hodgson, from Greece +or Turkey, were equally devoid of misanthropy, and, indeed, generally +full of jokes. It was only when too long a silence on their part +awakened painful remembrances, causing a sort of nostalgia of +friendship, that a cry of pain once escaped him in these words:—"Truly, +I have no friends in the world!" But one feels that he did not believe +it, and only spoke as coquettish women do, knowing they are beloved, and +willing to hear the old tale repeated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_581" id="Page_581">[Pg 581] </a></span></p> + +<p>Again, it was this same man of worn-out feeling, who, despite the +embarrassed state of his affairs, showed such unexampled generosity to +his mother, and to friends requiring aid both in England and Greece; who +likewise displayed touching solicitude toward servants left behind him +at home, or even sent away so as not to over-fatigue their youth or +their old age: and, finally, who, on learning that one of his dependents +was about to commit a bad action, abandoning a young girl whom he had +seduced, wrote to his mother:—</p> + +<p>"My opinion is that B—— ought to marry Miss N——; our first duty is +not to do evil, our second to repair it. I will have no seducers on my +estates, and will not grant my dependents a privilege I would not take +myself: namely, of leading astray our neighbors' daughters.</p> + +<p>"I hope this Lothario will follow my example, and begin by restoring the +girl to society, or by my father's beard he shall hear of me."</p> + +<p>And then he also recommends a young servant to her:—</p> + +<p>"I pray you to show kindness to Robert, who must miss his master; poor +boy! he would scarcely go back."</p> + +<p>This letter alone shows a freshness of feeling quite consolatory; +certainly "Childe Harold" was not capable of it.</p> + +<p>But despite all these proofs of his good-humor, gayety, and +antimisanthropical dispositions, we could cite persons who, even at this +period, thought him melancholy. Mr. Galt, for instance, whom chance had +brought in contact with him, having met on the same vessel going from +Gibraltar to Greece; and then the British ambassador at Constantinople, +Mr. Adair, and even Mr. Bruce, at Athens. How then shall we reconcile +these opposite testimonies? It may be done by analyzing his fits of +melancholy, observing the time and places of their manifestation.</p> + +<p>I have said that Lord Byron's melancholy had always real or probable +causes (only capable of aggravation from his extremely sensitive +temperament), and it has been seen that superabundant causes existed +when he left England. That during the whole period of his absence, they +may, from time to time, have cast some shade over him, notwithstanding +his natural gayety and his strength of mind, is at least very probable. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_582" id="Page_582">[Pg 582] </a></span>But did Mr. Galt, Mr. Adair, and Mr. Bruce, really witness the return +of these impressions? or would it not be more natural to believe, since +that better agrees with the observations made by those living constantly +with him, that, through some resemblance of symptoms, they may have +taken for melancholy another psychological phenomenon generally +remarked—namely, <i>the necessity of solitude</i>, experienced by a high +meditative and poetic nature like his? Indeed, what does Galt say?—</p> + +<p>"When night arrived and there were lights in the vessel, he held himself +aloof, took his station on the rail, between the pegs on which the +sheets are belayed and the shrouds, and there, for hours, sat in +silence, enamored, as people say, of the moon. He was often strangely +absent—it may have been from his genius; and, had its sombre grandeur +been then known, this conduct might have been explained; but, at the +time, it threw as it were, around him the sackcloth of penitence. +Sitting amid the shrouds and rattlings, in the tranquillity of the +moonlight, composing melodies scarcely formed in his mind, he seemed +almost an apparition, suggesting dim reminiscences of him who shot the +albatross. He was as a mystery in a winding-sheet crowned with a halo.</p> + +<p>"The influence of the incomprehensible phantasma which hovered about +Lord Byron has been more or less felt by all who ever approached him. +That he sometimes descended from the clouds, and was familiar and +earthly, is true; but his dwelling was amid the murk and the mist, and +the home of his spirit in the abyss of the storm and the hiding-places +of guilt. He was at the time of which I am speaking scarcely +two-and-twenty, and could claim no higher praise than having written a +clever satire; and yet it was impossible, even then, to reflect on the +bias of his mind, as it was revealed by the casualties of conversation, +without experiencing a presentiment, that he was destined to execute +extraordinary things. The description he has given of "Manfred" in his +youth, was of himself:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +'My spirit walk'd not with the souls of men,<br /> +Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes;<br /> +The thirst of their ambition was not mine,<br /> +The aim of their existence was not mine;<br /> +My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers,<br /> +Made me a stranger.'"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_583" id="Page_583">[Pg 583] </a></span></div> + +<p>All that is very well, but the only astonishing part is Mr. Galt's +astonishment. The incomprehensible phantom of melancholy and caprice +then hanging over Lord Byron, was especially his genius seeking an +outlet; it was the melancholy that lays hold of so many great minds, +because, having a vision of beauty and fame before their eyes, they fear +not attaining to it. That it was which one day led Petrarch, all +tearful, to his consoler John of Florence. If almost all great geniuses, +ere carving out their path, have experienced this fever of the soul, +falling into certain kinds of melancholy, that put on all sorts of +forms,—sometimes noisy, sometimes capricious, sometimes misanthropical, +was there not greater reason for Lord Byron to undergo such a crisis—at +a period when energy of heart and mind was not yet balanced by +confidence in his own genius? For he had not met with a John of +Florence; he had been so much hurt at the cruel reception given to his +first attempts, that it appeared to him he ought to seek another +direction for the employment of his energetic faculties, and turn to +active life, as many of his tastes invited. But his genius, unknown to +the world as to himself, was, however, fermenting within his brain, +feeding on dreams; now pacing a deck, now beneath a starry sky, anon by +moonlight, and causing him to absorb from every thing all homogeneous to +his nature; and thus "Childe Harold" came to light. When Lord Byron took +his pen, the mechanical part of the work alone remained to be done. The +elaboration and meditation of it had taken place almost unknown to +himself, so that his conceptions remained latent, and took their shape +by degrees in his brain, before being fixed in his writings. He penned +"Childe Harold" at Janina and Athens; but it was on the vessel's deck, +in that dreamy attitude just seen by Mr. Galt, that he had moulded the +clay of his first statue, and given it an immortal form. Could he have +done so, if he had always remained in society on deck, laughing, joking, +giving way to all his charming, witty bursts of gayety, as he did while +coasting the shores of Sicily, when, from time to time, his playful +nature enabled him not only to forget the wounds of his heart, and the +disagreeable remembrances left behind, but also to impose silence on the +severe requirements of his genius?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_584" id="Page_584">[Pg 584] </a></span></p> + +<p>The same causes must have produced the same opinions from the British +ambassador at Constantinople. Without even speaking of the irksomeness +of etiquette, always so distasteful to Lord Byron, that Moore looks upon +it as one of the causes of the apparent sadness remarked by Adair, we +ought to remember that he left Constantinople on board the same frigate +as the ambassador, making a sea-voyage of four days with him. During +these four days, it is likely that Lord Byron did not deny himself +solitude, and that he also courted the secret influences exercised by +starry nights on the Bosphorus as he had done under similar +circumstances on the Ægean Sea. But he had yet another motive for +sadness during this passage, since he was then about to separate from +his friend and fellow-traveller, Hobhouse, who was obliged to go back to +England. Thus, for the first time, Lord Byron would soon find himself +alone in a foreign land. The effect produced by this situation must have +shown itself in his countenance; for he was experiencing beforehand +quite a new sensation, wherein any satisfaction at perfect independence +and solitude must have been more than counterbalanced in his feeling, +grateful, and in reality most sociable nature, by real grief at such a +separation. And I doubt not that when setting foot on the barren isle of +Chios, with its jutting rocks and tall rugged-looking mountains, just +after having bade Hobhouse adieu, I doubt not that his heart experienced +one of those burning suffocating feelings that belong equally to intense +sorrow and joy. When, then, a few days later, he wrote to his mother for +the evident purpose of calming the uneasiness she must have felt at +knowing him to be alone, and when he mentioned with indifference the +departure of his friend, he was exaggerating, except in what he said of +loving solitude. That he did not even sufficiently express, for he might +have boldly declared that it was positively requisite to him; and, +indeed, his resignation at loss of a friend so thoroughly appreciated is +the best proof we could have of it.</p> + +<p>In the workings of Lord Byron's intellect, observation, reflection, and +solitary meditation were brought into play much more than +imagination.<a name="FNanchor_174_174" id="FNanchor_174_174"></a><a href="#Footnote_174_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a> Every thing with him took its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_585" id="Page_585">[Pg 585] </a></span> source from facts; and +the vital flame that circulates in every phase of his writings is the +very essence of this reality, first elaborated in his brain and then +stamped on his verse. As long as this first kind of work of observation +was going on, as long as he was only occupied in imbibing truths of the +visible world that were sure to strike him, and storing them in his +memory, society, and especially intellectual society, suited him. But +when he began to shape his observations into form, by dint of reflection +and meditation, generalizing and making deductions, then constant +society forced upon him fatigued him, and solitude became indispensable. +Now it was more particularly at the period of which we are speaking that +his mind was in the situation described. He had just visited Albania, +whose inhabitants were a violent, turbulent race, animated with a +passionate love of independence, who were ever rising in rebellion +against authority, and whose every sentiment, passion, and principle, +formed a perfect contrast with all existing in his own country. He had +become familiar with their usages, and recognized in them the possession +of virtues which he loved, though mixed up with vices which he abhorred. +He had gone through strange emotions and adventures among them; his life +had often been in danger from the elements, from pirates and brigands; +on the throne sat a prince who united monstrous vices to a few virtues, +who, wearing gentleness on his countenance, was yet so ferocious in +soul, that Byron, despite the favors lavished on himself, felt +constrained to paint the tyrant in his real colors. He found in these +contrasts, in this moral phenomenon, that which made him shudder, and +precisely because it did cause shuddering, the source of soul-stirring, +most original poetry, the type of his Eastern verses—of "Conrad," "The +Giaour," and "Lara"—which, having been admitted into the fertile soil +of his brain, were one day to come forth in all their terrible truth, +though softened down by some of his own personal qualities; and having +gone through, unknown to him, a long process of warm fertilization, +while nursed in <i>solitary</i> reflection. Thus solitude was necessary to +him; and this want, I again repeat, was an intellectual one, and had +nothing to do with melancholy. From Chios Lord Byron went to Athens, a +residence so sad and monotonous at this period, that it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_586" id="Page_586">[Pg 586] </a></span> well +calculated to give rather than cure the spleen. But as he had no malady +of this kind, after an excursion into the Morea with Lord Sligo,—a +college friend and companion to whom nothing could be refused,—he +returned to Athens; and here, in order to enjoy his cherished +independence, would not even give himself the distraction of seeing +those lovely young faces he used to admire behind the geraniums at their +windows, and which had charmed him some months before he took up his +abode at the Franciscan convent. There, amid the silence of the +cloister, he could commune freely with his own mind, allow it full +expansion, and revert, at will, from solitary contemplation to the most +varied studies, especially to that he always so much appreciated—the +study of mankind in general.</p> + +<p>"Here," he wrote to his mother, "I see and have conversed with French, +Italians, Germans, Danes, Greeks, Turks, Americans, etc.; and, without +losing sight of my own, I can judge of the countries and manners of +others. When I see the superiority of England (which, by-the-by, we are +a great deal mistaken about in many things) I am pleased, and where I +find her inferior, I am at least enlightened. Now, I might have staid, +smoked in your towns, or fogged in your country a century without being +sure of this, and without acquiring any thing more useful or amusing at +home."</p> + +<p>And then he adds:—</p> + +<p>"I hope, on my return, to lead a quiet, recluse life; but God knows and +does best for us all; at least so they say, and I have nothing to +object, as, on the whole, I have no reason to complain of my lot. I +trust this will find you well, and as happy as one can be; you will, at +least, be pleased to hear I am so."</p> + +<p>It was in this admirable frame of mind that he often went from Athens to +Cape Colonna. And amid these ruins, washed by the blue waves of the +Ægean Sea, immortalized by Plato, who here taught his half-Christian +philosophy, Lord Byron took his seat at the celestial banquet spread by +the great master, and entered into full possession of his genius. For, +although he ignored its great power and extent, it is impossible that he +should not have had in hours like these, some vision of the future, some +presentiment of coming glory,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_587" id="Page_587">[Pg 587] </a></span> which, piercing through the veils that +yet shrouded his genius, gave moments of ineffable delight. When he +bathed in some solitary spot, he tells us in his memoranda that one of +his greatest delights was to sit on a rock overlooking the waves, and to +remain there whole hours lost in admiration of sky and sea, "absorbed," +says Moore, "in that sort of vague reverie, which, however formless and +indistinct at the moment, settled afterward on his pages into those +clear, bright pictures which will endure forever."</p> + +<p>One day, while he was swimming under the rocks of Cape Colonna, a vessel +from the coast of Attica drew near. On board, going from London to +Athens, were two celebrated personages—Lady Hester Stanhope and Mr. +Bruce. The first object that greeted their eyes, on nearing Sanium, was +Lord Byron, playing all alone with his favorite element. Some days +after, his friend Lord Sligo wished him to make their acquaintance, and +he saw a great deal of them at Athens. In his memoranda the following +words are applied to them:—"It was the commencement (their meeting at +Cape Colonna) of the most delightful acquaintance I have made in +Greece." And he wished to assure Mr. Bruce, in case these lines should +ever fall under his notice, of the pleasure he experienced in recalling +the time they had passed together at Athens. Now I do not see any +symptom of melancholy in all this, nor in all preceding, and yet Bruce +thought there was. Did he, then, also consider the joy Lord Byron felt +in solitude, and his indifference for the false conventional enthusiasm +his countrymen affected to display at sight of the ruins of Greece, as +so many other tokens of melancholy? In reality Lord Byron was averse to +all kinds of affectation, made no exception in favor of the artistic +pretensions which constitute the hypocrisy of taste, and only gave the +sincere, ardent homage of his soul to those things of antiquity that +recall great names or great actions, and to sublime scenes in nature. +Notwithstanding his fine intelligence, it is not impossible that Mr. +Bruce also may have shared the errors of superficial minds; and it is +likewise possible that Lord Byron may really, during the last period of +his sojourn at Athens, have sometimes been melancholy, for causes of +grief were certainly not wanting. His man of business wished Lord Byron +at this time to sell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_588" id="Page_588">[Pg 588] </a></span> Newstead, so as to get his affairs into some +definite order. Perhaps it would have been wise, but such a +determination was extremely repugnant to him, for he was very fond of +Newstead, and had even written to his mother, before leaving, that she +might be quite easy on this head, as he would never part with it. +However, his agent, wishing to get him back to England, then affected +negligence, would not write, and made him wait for money. Lord Byron +grew uneasy and alarmed, was out of humor, and often seemed capricious, +because these circumstances obliged him to change his travelling plans, +and finally left him no other alternative but to return to England, +where, as he wrote to a friend, his first interview would be with a +lawyer, the second with a creditor; and then would come discussions with +miners, farmers, stewards and all the disagreeables consequent on a +ruined property and disputed mines.</p> + +<p>After having resisted all these fears for some time, he was obliged to +decide on returning. Behold him, then, on the road to England.</p> + +<p>At Malta he had attacks of fever to which his state of mind was +certainly not wholly foreign. "We have seen," says Moore, "from the +letters written by him on his passage homeward (on board the 'Volage' +frigate) how far from cheerful or happy was the state of mind in which +he returned. In truth, even for a disposition of the most sanguine cast, +there was quite enough in the discomfort that now awaited him in England +to sadden its hopes and check its buoyancy."</p> + +<p>And yet in these letters, melancholy at bottom, which he addressed to +his mother and friends during this tiresome voyage of more than six +weeks, we still perceive, overriding all, his kind, sensitive, playful +nature. He told them that if one can not be happy, one must at least try +to be a little gay; that if England had ceased to smile on him, there +were other skies more serene; that he was coming back shaken by fever +morally and physically, but with a firm, intrepid spirit. And, in short, +pleasantry never failed him.</p> + +<p>Always admirable toward his mother, he spoke of his apathy, but +re-assured her directly, adding:—</p> + +<p>"Dear mother" (he wrote to her on the 'Volage' frigate), "within that +apathy I certainly do not comprise yourself, as I will prove by every +means in my power.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_589" id="Page_589">[Pg 589] </a></span></p> + +<p>"P.S.—You will consider Newstead as your house, not mine, and me only +as a visitor."<a name="FNanchor_175_175" id="FNanchor_175_175"></a><a href="#Footnote_175_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a></p> + +<p>He had hardly arrived in London when Mr. Dallas hastened to greet him, +and instead of finding him changed, thought he was in excellent health, +with a countenance that betrayed neither melancholy nor any trace of +discontent at his return. The truth is, that those sorrows which did not +reach his heart were never very deep with Lord Byron. But already a most +formidable tempest was gathering on the horizon of his fate, for it was +one that would cruelly wound his heart. Perhaps it was some vague, +inexplicable presentiment of what was threatening him that saddened his +return to his native country. The storm burst as soon as he set foot in +London; for he was summoned in haste to Newstead, his mother's life +being declared in danger. He set out instantaneously, but on arriving +found only a corpse! This spectacle was still before his eyes; he had +hardly quitted the chamber of death, where, in the obscurity of night +and alone, believing himself free from all observation, he had given way +in silence and darkness to the real sentiments of his heart, weeping +bitterly the loss of a mother who had idolized him, when in rapid +succession news arrived of the deaths of his dearest friends. Matthews, +his mind's idol, had just been drowned in the river Cam, at Cambridge; +Wingfield, one of his heart-idols, was dying of fever at Coimbra; his +dear Eddlestone was in the last stage of consumption; and, finally, he +learned the death of another loved, mysterious being. Six deaths within +a few short weeks!</p> + +<p>"If to be able," says Moore, "to depict powerfully the painful emotions +it is necessary first to have experienced them, or, in other words, if, +for the poet to be great the man must suffer, Lord Byron, it must be +owned, paid early this dear price of mastery."</p> + +<p>This was certainly a most painful crisis in his existence. What he felt +then can not be called melancholy; it was truly <i>desolation, agony of +heart</i>. Seeing himself alone in his venerable but gloomy abode, beside +the dead body of his mother, solitude was for the first time intolerable +to him, and, despite his strength of mind, he experienced moments of +weakness. In his agony he wrote a letter to his friend Scroope Davies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_590" id="Page_590">[Pg 590] </a></span> +that is truly painful to read, so much does it bear the impress of +intense suffering.</p> + +<p>"Some curse hangs over me and mine," says he. "My mother lies a corpse +in this house; one of my best friends is drowned in a ditch. What can I +say, or think, or do?</p> + +<p>"My dear Davies, if you can spare a moment, do come down to me; I want a +friend. Come to me, Scroope, I am almost desolate, left almost alone in +the world. I must enjoy the survivors while I can. Write or come, but +come if you can, or one or both."</p> + +<p>Hardly had he allowed himself this heartrending expression of grief, +most touching for those who knew his repugnance to showing any +sensibility of heart, when a new calamity overtook him. His dear friend, +Wingfield, died at Coimbra at the age of twenty-one. Thoughts of death +even took possession of Lord Byron's soul, influencing and directing all +his actions. Neither self-love, nor the hope of great success with +"Childe Harold," which had been announced to him as he passed through +London, any longer could charm; tears dimmed the lustre of fame; he +could only occupy himself with the fate of the surviving, and resolved +on making his will in case of his own death. We find him then at this +time solely engaged in making out this new deed. He destroyed the old +will, rendered useless by the death of his mother, and took care to +forget no one in the new one; all his servants were mentioned with +admirable solicitude; and, in short, his last testament fully displayed +the beautiful, generous soul that had dictated it.</p> + +<p>Some weeks after, he wrote to Dallas:—</p> + +<p>"At three-and-twenty I am left alone, and what more can we be at +seventy? It is true that I am young to begin again, but with whom can I +retrace the laughing part of life?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed," writes he at the same time to Hodgson, "the blows followed +each other so rapidly, that I am yet stupid from the shock; and though I +do eat, and drink, and talk, and even laugh at times, yet I can hardly +persuade myself that I am awake did not every morning convince me +mournfully to the contrary.</p> + +<p>"Davies has been here; his gayety (death can not mar it) has done me +service; but, after all, ours was a hollow laughter! You will write to +me? I am solitary, and I never felt solitude irksome before."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591">[Pg 591] </a></span></p> + +<p>His moral sufferings had never been so great; and what he said and +experienced under these circumstances, amply prove that solitude was +good for him, when not unhappy. "I can do nothing," writes he to Dallas, +"and my days pass, except for a few bodily exercises, in uniform +indolence and idle insipidity."</p> + +<p>The task of publishing "Childe Harold" was left to Dallas, and the +certainty of its success found him pretty nearly indifferent. When his +heart was in pain, Lord Byron's self-love always lay dormant. But +destiny was still far from granting him any respite. Eddlestone, that +dear friend, on whose true affection he most relied, as well as another +beloved one, whose name ever remained locked within his breast, both +died about this time; so that, as he says in his preface, during the +short space of two months, he lost six persons most dear. In announcing +this new misfortune to Dallas, he expresses himself in the following +words:—</p> + +<p>"I have almost forgot the taste of grief; <i>and supped full of horrors</i>, +till I have become callous; nor have I a tear left for an event which, +five years ago, would have bowed down my head to the earth. It seems to +me as though I were to experience in my youth the greatest misery of +age. My friends fall round me, and I shall be left a lonely tree before +I am withered.</p> + +<p>"Other men can always take refuge in their families; I have no resource +but my own reflections, and they present no prospect here or hereafter, +except the selfish satisfaction of surviving my betters. I am, indeed, +very wretched, and you will excuse my saying so, as you know I am not +apt to cant of sensibility."</p> + +<p>But if tears no longer flowed from his eyes, they did from his pen; for +it was then he wrote his elegies to "Thyrza," whose pathetic sublimity +is so well characterized by Moore; and that he added those melancholy +stanzas in "Childe Harold" on the death of friends, which we find at the +end of the second canto.</p> + +<p>"Indeed," he wrote again to Hodgson, "I am growing nervous, ridiculously +nervous, I can neither read, write, nor amuse myself, or any one else. +My days are listless, and my nights restless. I have very seldom any +society, and when I have, I run out of it. At this present writing, +there are in the next room three ladies, and I have stolen away to +write<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_592" id="Page_592">[Pg 592] </a></span> this grumbling letter. I don't know that I sha'n't end with +insanity, for I find a want of method in arranging my thoughts that +perplexes me strangely; but this looks more like silliness than madness, +as Scroope Davies would facetiously remark in his consoling manner. I +must try the hartshorn of your company; and a session of Parliament +would suit me well, any thing to cure me of conjugating the accursed +verb <i>ennuyer</i>."</p> + +<p>Distractions did come to him, but of a kind to make him conjugate verbs +equally disagreeable; for they came caused by grief and irritation. In +an infamous, ignoble publication, called "The Scourge," an anonymous +author, probably making himself the organ of those who wished to avenge +Lord Byron's satires, attacked his birth, and the reputation of his +mother, who, despite her faults, was a very respectable, excellent +woman.</p> + +<p>"During the first winters after Lord Byron had returned to England," +says Mr. Galt, "I was frequently with him. At that time, the strongest +feeling by which he appeared to be actuated was indignation against a +writer in a scurrilous publication, called 'The Scourge,' in which he +was not only treated with unjustifiable malignity, but charged with +being, as he told me himself, the illegitimate son of a murderer. I had +not read the work; but the writer who could make such an absurd +accusation, must have been strangely ignorant of the very circumstances +from which he derived the materials of his own libel. When Lord Byron +mentioned the subject to me, and that he was consulting Sir Vicary Gibbs +with the intention of prosecuting the publisher and the author, I +advised him, as well as I could, to desist simply because the +allegations referred to well-known occurrences. His grand-uncle's duel +with Mr. Chaworth, and the order of the House of Peers to produce +evidence of his grandfather's marriage with Miss Trevannion, the facts +of which being matter of history and public record, superseded the +necessity of any proceeding.</p> + +<p>"Knowing how deeply this affair agitated him at that time, I was not +surprised at the sequestration in which he held himself, and which made +those who were not acquainted with his shy and mystical nature apply to +him the description of his own 'Lara.'"<a name="FNanchor_176_176" id="FNanchor_176_176"></a><a href="#Footnote_176_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593">[Pg 593] </a></span></p> + +<p>Lord Byron's conduct at this period, led those who did not know his +timid mystery-loving nature, to fancy that they recognized him in the +portrait drawn of "Lara." Probably they were unaware how his hard fate +was now not sparing him one single grief or mortification; how he was +struggling between the necessity of putting up Newstead for sale and the +extreme repugnance he felt to such a step.</p> + +<p>"Before his resolve was taken on this head," says Mr. Galt, "he was +often so troubled in mind, as to be unable to hide his sadness; and he +often spoke of leaving England forever."</p> + +<p>Already, long absence had made him lose sight of several early comrades; +his mother was dead, and he scarcely saw his sister, who lived in quite +another circle; through his antecedents, his youth, and his travels +abroad, he was still a stranger among his fellow-peers; the only persons +he saw much of were five or six college friends, whom death had spared, +and to whom he was extremely attached; but they were his sole +affections. His ideal standard of perfection which, being brought in +contact with reality, had always a little spoilt women for him, had +ended by making them almost disagreeable.</p> + +<p>"I have one request to make," wrote he at this time to H——, "never +again speak to me in your letters of a woman; do not even allude to the +existence of the sex. I will not so much as read a word about them; it +must be <i>propria que maribus</i>."</p> + +<p>It was in this state of relative isolation that he came to London, about +the end of the year, and found Dallas preparing to have "Childe Harold" +published; a task in which Lord Byron half unwillingly joined.</p> + +<p>"He seemed more inclined," says Dallas, "at that time to seek more solid +fame, by endeavoring to become an active, eloquent statesman."</p> + +<p>But, notwithstanding this perspective, despite his genius and his youth, +Lord Byron often fell into a sort of mental prostration, which was, says +Dallas again, "rather the <i>result of his particular situation, feeling +himself out of his sphere, than that of a gloomy disposition</i> received +from nature."</p> + +<p>We have seen, in effect, that there were circumstances then existing +well calculated to darken his noble brow, and give him those nervous +movements that may have seemed like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_594" id="Page_594">[Pg 594] </a></span> caprice to those who were ignorant +of their cause; and I wished to enter into these details so as to +characterize well the epoch when his melancholy was greatest, and to +show that it had its chief source in the anguish of his heart. It was to +this time he alluded, when, in other days of suffering (at the period of +his separation from Lady Byron), wherein his heart had smaller share, he +wrote to Moore:—"If my heart could have broken, it would have done so +years ago, through events more afflicting than this."</p> + +<p>I also wished to enter into these details, because, desiring to prove +that Lord Byron's melancholy almost always arose from palpable causes, +it was necessary to make these causes known; and thus those who have +declared his griefs to be rather <i>imaginary</i> than <i>real</i>, may find in +this chapter abundant reason for rectifying their ideas. Among the +number of such persons we may rank Mr. Macaulay, the eloquent historian, +whose opinion, however, has <i>no weight</i>, as regards Lord Byron's +character. For it is evident that he made use of this great name by way +of choosing a good theme for his eloquence, a sort of mould for fine +phrases. Besides, Macaulay did not know Lord Byron personally, nor did +he study him impartially; facts which are his <i>fault</i> and his <i>excuse</i>.</p> + +<p>After having paid this great tribute to grief during six months, the +storm appeared to subside, and a ray of sunshine penetrated into Lord +Byron's mind. It was then that he made Moore's acquaintance, and that of +other clever men, among whom we may cite Rogers and Campbell. Moore +especially, introduced under circumstances that brought out strongly the +most amiable and estimable qualities of heart and mind, was to Lord +Byron as a beacon-light amid the clouds external and internal harassing +him then; and their sympathy was mutual and instantaneous. Lord Byron +wrote directly to Harness:—</p> + +<p>"Moore is the epitome of every thing exquisite in poetic and personal +perfections."</p> + +<p>On his side, Moore, after having praised the <i>manly, generous, pleasing +refinement of his new friend</i>, sums up by saying:—"<i>Frank and manly as +I found his nature then, so did I ever find it to his latest hour.</i>" And +in describing the effect produced on him by his first meeting with Lord +Byron, he says:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_595" id="Page_595">[Pg 595] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"<i>Among the impressions which this meeting left upon me, what I chiefly +remember to have remarked was the nobleness of his air, his beauty, the +gentleness of his voice and manners.</i> Being in mourning for his mother, +the color, as well of his dress as of his glossy, curling, and +picturesque hair, gave more effect to the pure, spiritual paleness of +his features, in the expression of which, when he spoke, there was a +perpetual play of lively thought, though melancholy was their habitual +character when in repose."</p> + +<p>But this melancholy, having become habitual to him through accident, +began then to disperse, as snow melts beneath the soft and warm breath +of spring. The first symptom was that he judged better of himself; for, +writing to his friend Harness, to express his general opinion on human +selfishness, he said, "But I do not think we are born of this +disposition."</p> + +<p>"From the time of our first meeting," says Moore, "there seldom elapsed +a day that Lord Byron and I did not see each other, and our acquaintance +ripened into intimacy and friendship with a rapidity of which I have +seldom known an example."<a name="FNanchor_177_177" id="FNanchor_177_177"></a><a href="#Footnote_177_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a></p> + +<p>Moore's company was a great consolation to him then, and Providence +willed that the first balsam applied to his wounds, after that of time, +should come from the hand of one whom he had lashed in his satire. He +passed in this way the last months of 1811, and the first two of the +following year. Meanwhile his star was about to rise, soon to transform, +without any transition, his misty sky into brightest light, too +dazzling, alas! to endure. For the sun, when it shines so radiantly in +early morning, absorbs too many bad vapors. But we will not anticipate +events which I am not relating here.</p> + +<p>The parliamentary session being opened, Lord Byron resumed his seat in +the upper House. But he was only known there by the satire that had +raised him up such a host of enemies; otherwise, the handsome young man +who had come among them three years before, but who had since appeared +to disdain their labors, preferring foreign travel in Spain and the +East, was scarcely remembered. When they saw him return, still so young +and handsome, but with a grave melancholy brow, and that he immediately +distinguished himself as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596">[Pg 596] </a></span> an orator, general admiration was excited. +Even those he had offended generously forgot their anger in sympathy for +a fellow-countryman, and pride in such a colleague; pride and enthusiasm +were so general that both parties, Tories and Whigs, shared it equally. +Lord Holland told him that <i>as an orator he would beat them all, if he +persevered</i>. Lord Grenville remarked that for the construction of his +phrases <i>he already resembled Burke</i>. Sir Francis Burdett declared that +his discourse was the <i>best</i> pronounced by a lord in parliamentary +memory. Several other noblemen asked to be presented, and even those he +had offended came round to shake hands. Generous natures showed +themselves on this occasion. The success of the orator heralded that of +the poet, for "Childe Harold" appeared a few days after.</p> + +<p>"The effect was," said Moore, "accordingly electric; his fame had not to +wait for any of the ordinary gradations, but seemed to spring up like +the palace of a fairy tale, in a night. As he himself briefly described +it in his memoranda:—'I awoke one morning, and found myself famous.'</p> + +<p>"The first edition of his work was disposed of instantly; and, as the +echoes of its reputation multiplied on all sides, 'Childe Harold' and +'Lord Byron' became the theme of every tongue. At his door most of the +leading names of the day presented themselves. From morning till night +the most flattering testimonies of his success crowded his table from +the grave tributes of the statesman and the philosopher down to (what +flattered him still more) the romantic billet of some <i>incognita</i>, or +the pressing note of invitation from some fair leader of fashion; and, +in place of the desert which London had been to him but a few weeks +before, he now not only saw the whole splendid interior of high life +thrown open to receive him, but found himself among its illustrious +crowds the most distinguished object."</p> + +<p>I may also mention Dallas, who in speaking of this unexampled success, +says:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Byron had become the subject of every conversation in town.</p> + +<p>"He was surrounded with honors. From the regent and his admirable +daughter, down to the editor and his clerk; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_597" id="Page_597">[Pg 597] </a></span>from Walter Scott and +Jeffrey down to the anonymous authors of the 'Satirist' and the +'Scourge,' all and each extolled his merits. He was the admiration of +the old, and the marvel of the fashionable circles of which he had +become the idol."</p> + +<p>This adoration of a whole nation did not turn his head, but it touched +and rejoiced his heart. When he knew himself forgiven and loved by those +even whom he had most offended in his satire, toward whom he felt most +guilty, as, for instance, the excellent Lord Holland, who asked for his +friendship, predicting his future fame as an orator, and already placing +him beside Walter Scott as a poet; then by Lord Fitzgerald, who declared +himself incapable of feeling angry with "Childe Harold," and many, many +others; when all this occurred, Lord Byron's heart expanded to the +better feelings he had long kept under control and hidden. He gave way +to his innate kindness, to generous forgiveness; his own good qualities +were stimulated by the kindness and generosity of others; this, rather +than any satisfaction of self-love, dispelled the clouds from his soul, +changed the sky and atmosphere, and his melancholy of that period, which +owed its source to the heart, became neutralized by the heartfelt +satisfaction he experienced. His letters, and particularly those to +Moore, are full of life and animation at this time; and such as he +appeared in his letters, such did Moore describe him in his habitual +frame of mind. Dallas, who before had so often seen him melancholy, +says:—</p> + +<p>"I am happy to think that the success with which he has met, and the +object of universal attention which he has become, have already produced +upon his soul that softening influence which I had expected and +foreseen; and I trust, that all his former grief will now have passed +forever."</p> + +<p>Galt himself, despite the effort he seems to make in praising him, can +not help owning that at this period, when every body was kind to Lord +Byron, he, on his side, displayed the utmost gentleness, kindness, +amiability, and desire of obliging, combined with habitual gayety and +pleasantry. The general tone of his memoranda at this time, particularly +in 1813, shows him <i>pleased with every body and every thing</i>.</p> + +<p>After having praised Moore, he speaks highly of Lord Ward, afterward +Lord Dudley:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_598" id="Page_598">[Pg 598] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I like Ward," he says, and adds, "by Mohammed! I begin to fear getting +to like every body; a disposition not to be encouraged. It is a sort of +social gluttony, that makes one swallow all one comes in contact with. +But I do like Ward."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, this serenity, by lasting over the interval that elapsed +between his twenty-third and twenty-sixth year, at which period his +marriage took place, was traversed by many clouds, more or less +evanescent, and he still had hours and days of melancholy. Assuredly, +Lord Byron could not avoid those oscillations of heart and mind that +belong to the very essence of the human heart. But, at least, it is easy +to assign a palpable cause for all the fits of ennui or melancholy +experienced at this time. All his tendencies then show indifference, if +not dislike, to female society. His ideal of perfection had spoilt him +for women, in the first instance, and the unfortunate experience he had +of them still further lowered his opinion of them. But if he did not +care about them, it was presumptuous to think he could put aside the sex +altogether.</p> + +<p>By adopting an anchorite's regimen, he strengthened, it is true, the +spiritual part of his nature; and certainly seemed to believe his heart +would be satisfied with friendship. His acquaintance with Moore, +especially, gave to his daily existence the intellectual and spiritual +aliment so necessary to him. But he reckoned on setting woman aside, and +his presumptuous heart numbered only twenty-three summers! Among the +letters and tokens of homage that piled his table in those days figured +many rose-colored notes, written on gilt-edged perfumed paper. Such +incense easily ascends, and it was not surprising that his head should +also suffer. "Childe Harold," of course, acted most on the imagination +of women of powerful intellect and ardent nature, and thus his own peril +grew afresh, involuntarily evoked by himself. For, if the prestige of +position and circumstance adding lustre to genius, could act strongly +even upon men, what must have been their combined influence when added +to his personal beauty, upon women?—</p> + +<p>" ... These personal influences acted with increased force, from the +assistance derived from others, which, to female imaginations +especially, would have presented a sufficiency of attraction, even +without the great qualities joined with them. His youth, the noble +beauty of his countenance, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_599" id="Page_599">[Pg 599] </a></span> its constant play of light and +shadow—the gentleness of his voice and manner to women, and his +occasional haughtiness to men,—the alleged singularities of his mode of +life, which kept curiosity constantly alive; all these minor traits +concurred toward the quick spread of his fame; nor can it be denied +that, among many purer sources of interest in his poem, the allusions +which he makes to instances of '<i>successful</i> passion' in his career, +were not without their influence on the fancies of that sex whose +weakness it is to be most easily won by those who come recommended by +the greatest number of triumphs over others.... Altogether, taking into +consideration the various points I have here enumerated, <i>it may be +asserted, that there never before existed, and, it is most probable, +there never will exist again, a combination of such vast mental powers +and such genius, with so many other of those advantages and attractions +by which the world is in general dazzled and captivated</i>."</p> + +<p>This rare combination of advantages were so many means of seduction on +his side, involuntarily exercised, and the sole ones he would have +condescended to employ; meanwhile all advances were spared him on the +other. There were fine ladies whom nothing daunted, if only they could +find favor in his sight; who forgot for him their rank, their duties, +their families, braving the whole world, donning strange costumes to get +at him, carrying jealousy to the verge of madness, to attempted suicide, +or to the conception, at least, of crime. One distinguished herself by +excessive daring; another, who had not been happy in married life, but +who had tried to make up for want of affection by securing her husband's +friendship and esteem, was now willing to sacrifice all to her wild +passion for the youthful peer.</p> + +<p>Whatever the sentiment which in his breast responded to all the feelings +he excited, it is certain that they possessed, at least, the power of +disturbing his tranquillity. They were like so many beautiful plants, +all showy and perfumed, yet distilling poison. The woman whose passion +he bore with, rather than shared, could not fail to compromise him; they +had exchanged parts, so to say, and he had to suffer from that jealousy, +which more frequently falls to the lot of woman. The ennui he thus +experienced was tinctured with irritation,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[Pg 600] </a></span> while the emotions to which +the other lady gave rise, were softer, truer, and more ardent. If we +examine well his memoranda and confidential letters of this time, and +confront his expressions with facts, we shall always find therein the +cause and palpable explanation of those mysterious though short-lived +sadnesses then experienced. We shall find the expression of peace +sacrificed, or sadness produced, sometimes couched in language +indicative of affection or regret; then, again, in words that betray +fear or irritation. For instance, we read in a passage of his +memoranda:—</p> + +<p>"I wish I could settle to reading again,—my life is monotonous, and yet +desultory. I take up books, and fling them down again. I began a comedy, +and burnt it, because the scene ran into reality; a novel, for the same +reason. In rhyme, I can keep more away from facts; but the thought +always runs through, through.... Yes, yes; through."</p> + +<p>And we have in these two words the precise explanation of this feeling +of <i>ennui</i>.</p> + +<p>He was at this time contemplating a voyage:—</p> + +<p>"Ward talks of going to Holland, and we have partly discussed an +expedition together.... And why not?... is far away.... No one +else, except Augusta (his sister), cares for me—no ties—no +trammels—<i>andiamo dunque</i>—se torniamo bene—se no che importa?"<a name="FNanchor_178_178" id="FNanchor_178_178"></a><a href="#Footnote_178_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a></p> + +<p>He was evidently sad that day; but, is not the nature of his sadness +revealed in those words:—"She is far away—?"</p> + +<p>According to his memoranda, he again fell into this vein of sadness some +months later, in February, 1814; but then, also, its causes are very +evident. An accumulation of painful things, united to overwhelm him. He +had sought to satisfy the longings of his heart by extraordinary +intellectual activity, writing the "Bride of Abydos" in four nights, and +the "Corsair" in a few days; he had also fought against them, by +endeavoring to make a six months' journey into Holland; but this project +failed, from obstacles created by a friend who was to accompany him; +and, besides, the plague was then prevalent in the East; he was, +moreover, embarrassed with the difficulty of selling Newstead, and the +necessity of such a painful measure; all which circumstances united to +keep him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[Pg 601] </a></span> in England. And a host of other irritating annoyances, the +work of irreconcilable enemies, who were jealous of his success and his +superiority, then fell upon him, as they could not fail to do; for his +sun had risen too brightly not to call forth noxious vapors.</p> + +<p>After having passed a month away from London, he wrote in his +memoranda:—</p> + +<p>"I see all the papers are in a sad commotion with those eight lines.... +You have no conception of the ludicrous solemnity with which these two +stanzas have been treated, ... of the uproar the lines on the little +'Royalty's Weeping,' in 1812 (now republished) have occasioned. The +'Morning Post' gave notice of an intended motion in the House of my +brethren on the subject, and God knows what proceedings besides.... This +last piece of intelligence is, I presume, too laughable to be true, +etc., etc."<a name="FNanchor_179_179" id="FNanchor_179_179"></a><a href="#Footnote_179_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a></p> + +<p>The first blow to his popularity was now given; and soon the whole +nation rose up in arms against him. All jealousies, and all resentments +now ranged themselves under one hostile banner, distorting Lord Byron's +every word, calumniating his motives, making his most generous and noble +actions serve as pretexts for attack; reproaching him with having given +up enmities from base reasons (while he had done so in reality from +feelings of justice and gratitude), pretending<a name="FNanchor_180_180" id="FNanchor_180_180"></a><a href="#Footnote_180_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a> that he had pocketed +large sums for his poems, and rendering him responsible for the follies +women chose to commit about him. This war, breaking out against him like +an unexpected hurricane amid radiant sunshine, must naturally have +caused irritation. And if we add to it the embarrassment of his affairs, +the deplorable events in his opinion then going on in the world, the +fall of the great Napoleon, whom he admired, the invasion of France by +the Allied Powers, which he disapproved of, the policy pursued by his +country, and the evils endured by humanity—spectacles that always made +his heart bleed,—we may well understand how all these causes may have +given rise to some moments of misanthropy, such as are betrayed by a few +expressions in his journal; but it was a misanthropy that existed only +in words, a plant without roots, of ephemeral <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[Pg 602] </a></span>growth, and most natural +to a fine nature. We feel, notwithstanding all these real palpable +causes of ennui, that his principal sufferings still came from the +heart.</p> + +<p>"Lady Melbourne," writes Lord Byron in his memoranda, in 1814, "tells me +that it is said that I am 'much out of spirits.' I wonder if I am really +or not? I have certainly enough of <i>'that perilous stuff which weighs +upon the heart' and it is better they should believe it to be the result +of these attacks than that they should guess the real cause</i>."</p> + +<p>And this real cause was a grief he wished to keep secret. Separation +from friends, their departure, even when he was to meet them again, +likewise caused him sadness. Especially was this the case with regard to +Moore, whom he loved so much, and whose society had an unspeakable charm +for him:—"I can only repeat," he said, "that I wish you would either +remain a long time with us, or not come at all, for these snatches of +society make the subsequent separations bitterer than ever."<a name="FNanchor_181_181" id="FNanchor_181_181"></a><a href="#Footnote_181_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a></p> + +<p>And in the next letter he says:—"I could be very sentimental now, but I +won't. The truth is, that I have been all my life trying to harden my +heart, and have not yet quite succeeded—though there are great +hopes—and you do not know how it sunk with your departure."</p> + +<p>This influence is ever visible. The English climate was always +distasteful to him, and its fogs displeased him more since he had +revelled in the splendor of Eastern suns; moreover, mists grew darker +and colder when his imagination was still more influenced by his heart. +At those moments his first thought ever was—"<i>Let me depart, let me +seek a bright sun, a blue sky.</i>" When to his great regret, the East was +closed against him by the plague of 1813, in his disdain for northern +countries, he exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>"Give me a <i>sun</i>, I care not how hot, and sherbet, I care not how cool, +and my heaven is as easily made as your Persian's." Making allusions to +this verse—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"<i>A Persian's heaven is</i> easily made,—<br /> +<i>'Tis but black eyes and lemonade</i>."<br /> +</div> + +<p>But we know that he was thinking of this voyage, in order to divert his +mind from the regret of having been obliged,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[Pg 603] </a></span> from motives of honor and +prudence, to give up accompanying into Sicily a family he liked very +much. However, the sight of a camel sufficed to carry him back to Asia +and the Euxine Sea, and to make him cry out: "<i>Quando te aspiciam!</i>"</p> + +<p>It was also at this time that he wrote to Moore, "All convulsions with +me end in rhyme." To overcome certain agitations of heart, he wrote the +"Bride of Abydos," and directly afterward the "Corsair."</p> + +<p>But if the melancholy, more or less deep, that cast its shadows over +this brilliant period of his triumphs, wore specially the above +character, it changed somewhat after his marriage. Thenceforward his +melancholy sprang less from the heart, than from bitter disenchantment; +from the suffering of a proud nature, cruelly wounded in its sentiment +of justice by indignities, calumnies, persecutions, unexampled under +such circumstances. Having already spoken of this marriage, I shall +leave to regular biographers the detailed account of this painful +period, so as only to consider it here under the sole aspect of the +griefs it caused. I will not even stop to mention the unaccountable +melancholy occasioned by a presentiment before marriage, nor the +mysterious sort of agony that seized upon him just as he was about to +kneel for the nuptial ceremony in church, nor even the sadness brought +about by his first experience of the disposition of the person with whom +he had so imprudently linked his fate. I will say, rather, that the +melancholy caused and produced by this marriage was really grief; and of +the kind that most harshly tries, not only firmness of soul, but +likewise true virtue. For all the baseness, cowardice and spirit of +revenge that had lain hidden a moment while his triumphal car passed on, +united at this moment to overwhelm and cast him down. And the means +employed were, instinct with such perversity, that his great moral +courage, always so powerful in helping him to bear contradictions, +disappointments, and personal misfortunes, were no longer of any +assistance, threatened as he was with the greatest calamity that can +possibly befall a man of honor—namely, to be misjudged, calumniated, +accused, thought capable of deeds quite contrary to his high nature. +Neither his courage, firmness, nor even the testimony of conscience +could shield him from great unhappiness. And he suffered all the more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[Pg 604] </a></span> +that the blame incurred proceeded from worthy persons who had been +mischievously led into error; nor could he conceal from himself that he +had voluntarily contributed to produce this unhappy state of things, by +not sufficiently avoiding certain appearances, by not attaching +sufficient importance to the opinion of his fellow-men, and having lent +himself, too easily, to misinterpretation.</p> + +<p>"The thorns which I have reaped," said he later (but he thought it much +earlier), "are of the tree I planted,—they have torn me,—and I bled; I +should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed."<a name="FNanchor_182_182" id="FNanchor_182_182"></a><a href="#Footnote_182_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a></p> + +<p>In addition to all this, Lord Byron had to experience the effects of a +phenomenon of a terrible character, a phenomenon almost peculiar to +England, the tyrannical power of its public opinion. This power, that +gives form and movement to what is called the great world in England, +weighed so heavily on the weak minds of several persons calling +themselves friends, that, with few exceptions, and though all the while +persuaded of the injustice of such opinion, after a few feeble efforts +at changing it, and showing the wrong done to Lord Byron, they lost +courage to declare their belief. Not only did they no longer protest, +but they even pretended to believe part of the stupid calumnies spread +abroad. To a heart firm and devoted as his, which, under similar +circumstances, would have fought to the death in defense of outraged +justice and a persecuted friend, this was one of the most cruel trials +imposed on him by adverse destiny. What he must have suffered at this +period has been already spoken of in another chapter. I will only say +here, that, despite time, and the philosophy, which, subsequently, +restored partial serenity, this wound never quite closed, since, even in +the fourteenth canto of "Don Juan," written shortly before his last +journey into Greece, he still made allusion to it, saying ironically:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Without a friend, what were humanity,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hunt our errors up with a good grace?</span><br /> +Consoling us with—'Would you had thought twice!<br /> +Ah! if you had but followed my advice!'<br /> +O Job! you had but two friends: one's quite enough,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Especially when we are ill at ease."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[Pg 605] </a></span></div> + +<p>Moore adds:—"Lord Byron could not have said, at this time, whether it +was the attacks of his enemies, or the condolences of his friends that +most lacerated his heart."</p> + +<p>It was in this state of mind that he quitted England. He visited +Belgium, and its battle-plains, still coming across fields of blood; +went up the Rhine, and spent some months in Switzerland, where the +glaciers, precipices, and the Alps, presented him with a splendid +framework for new poems. All the melancholy to be found in "Childe +Harold" (third canto), in "Manfred," and in his memoranda at that time, +is evidently caused by grief, either of fresh occurrence or renewed by +memory. A smile still sometimes wreathed his lip; but, when the gayety +natural to his age and disposition would fain have taken possession of +his heart, the remembrance of all the indignities he had undergone, rose +up before him as the words <i>Mené, Mené, Tekel, Upharsin</i>, did to +<i>Belshazzar</i>. And often his fit of gayety ended in a sigh, which even +became habitual after it had ceased to express sorrow. All those who +knew Lord Byron have remarked <i>this singular and touching sigh</i>, +attributing it to a melancholy temperament. But it was especially +produced by a crowd of painful indistinct remembrances, intruding upon +him at some moment when he would and could have been happy. So he has +told us in those exquisite lines of his fourth canto of "Childe Harold;" +and he often repeated the same in prose. Thus, for instance, at the time +of his excursions to Mont Blanc and the Glaciers, which, had his heart +been lighter, would have made him so happy, he finished his memoranda +with these melancholy words:—</p> + +<p>"In the weather for this tour (of thirteen days) I have been very +fortunate—fortunate in a companion (Hobhouse), fortunate in our +prospects, and exempt from even the little petty accidents and delays +which often render journeys in a less wild country disappointing. I was +disposed to be pleased. I am a lover of nature, and an admirer of +beauty. I can bear fatigue, and welcome privation, and have seen some of +the noblest views in the world. But, in all this, the recollection of +bitterness, and more especially of recent and, more, home +desolation—which must accompany me through life—have preyed upon me +here; and neither the music of the shepherd, the crashing of the +avalanche, nor the torrent, the mountain, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606">[Pg 606] </a></span> glacier, the forest, nor +the cloud, have for one moment lightened the weight upon my heart, nor +enabled me to lose my own wretched identity in the majesty and the power +and the glory around, above, and beneath me."</p> + +<p>After having passed eleven months in Switzerland, in about the same +frame of mind, he crossed the Alps, and entered Italy. Who can breathe +the soft air of that beautiful land, without feeling a healing balm +descend on wounds within? The clear atmosphere, and the serene sky, were +to him like the indulgent caresses of a sister, bringing a hope—a +promise—that peace, and even happiness were about to visit his stricken +soul. His first halt was at Milan. There he met with sympathetic, noble +minds, instead of the envious, hypocritical, intolerant spirits that had +caused him so much suffering; sweet and pleasant was it for him to live +with such. Every evening he took his place in a box at the Scala, where +the flower of the young intellects of Milan assembled, and where he met +with other persons of note, such as Abbé de Brême and Silvio Pellico: +gentle, beautiful souls, burning with love of country, and sighing after +its independence. From them he learnt more than ever to detest the +humiliating yoke of foreign despotism that weighed on Italy; with the +independence and frankness of character that belonged to him, he did not +scruple to deplore it openly; and his imprudent generosity became a +source of annoyance, persecution and calumny for himself. There he heard +that passionate music which appeals so strongly to imagination and +heart, because it harmonizes so naturally with all its surroundings in +Italy. It was listening to this music, at times so pathetic and sweet, +that emotion would often lend almost supernatural beauty to his +countenance, so that even Mr. Stendhall, the least enthusiastic of men, +was wont to say with enthusiasm, <i>that never, in his whole life, had he +seen any thing so beautiful and expressive as Lord Byron's look, or so +sublime as his style of beauty</i>. There he gave himself freely up to all +the fine emotions that art can raise. Stendhall accompanied him to the +Brêra Museum, "<i>and I admired</i>," says <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[Pg 607] </a></span>he, "<i>the depth of sentiment with +which Lord Byron understood painters of most opposite schools, Raphael, +Guercino, Luini, Titian. Guercino's picture of Hagar dismissed by +Abraham quite electrified him, and, from that moment the admiration he +inspired rendered every body mute around him</i>."</p> + +<p>"He improvised for at least an hour, and even better than Madame de +Staël," says Stendhall again. "One day Monti was invited to recite +before Lord Byron one of his (Monti's) poems which had met in Italy with +most favor,—the first canto of the 'Mascheroniana.'" The reading of +these lines gave such intense pleasure to the author of "Childe Harold" +that Stendhall adds, he shall never forget the divine expression of his +countenance on that occasion. "It was," says he, "the placid air of +genius and power."</p> + +<p>Thus taking interest and pleasure in all around him, if he did +experience hours of melancholy (which is very probable, his wounds being +so recent and so deep), he had, at the same time, strength to hide it +from the public eye, and to express it only with his pen.</p> + +<p>The single symptom that might be considered to betray, at this time, a +continual malady of soul, was the indifference he showed toward the fair +ladies of Milan, who, on their side, were full of enthusiasm about him, +and with whom he refused to become acquainted, despite all their +advances. But this reserve (though probably more marked and commented on +at this particular moment of which we speak) belonged, nevertheless to +his nature. After having visited Lake Garda with that pleasure he always +experienced from the beauties of nature, and then the tomb of Juliet at +Verona, with the interest excited by a true story even more than by +Shakspeare's poetry (since he could only take real interest in what was +true), he went from Milan to Venice. I have mentioned in another chapter +the impression made on him by Venice in particular, and Italy in +general; how, aided by exterior circumstances, by the sympathies growing +up around him, the severe studies he underwent, so as to keep his heart +calm, and bridle an imagination too liable to be influenced by bitter +memories; in a few months he began a new existence there, with a more +vigorous and healthy impulse for his genius.</p> + +<p>When first victimized by the most senseless persecution, he was so +surprised and confounded by the noise and violence of calumny, that his +keen sentiment of injustice underwent a sort of numbness. On seeing +himself thus brutally attacked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[Pg 608] </a></span> on the one hand, and so feebly defended +on the other, by lukewarm, pusillanimous friends, he may have questioned +if he were not really in fault, and hesitated, perhaps, how to reply; +for he almost spoke of himself as guilty in the farewell addressed to +his cold-hearted wife, and also in the lines composed for his more +deserving sister. This situation of mind shows itself without disguise, +sadly depicted in the third canto of "Childe Harold." Manfred himself, +that wondrous conception of genius, whose lot was cast amid all the +sublimities of nature, despite his pride and his strength of will, yet +was made to wear the sackcloth of penance. But, on arriving at Venice +when months had rolled on, and the Alps were between him and the +injustice undergone,—after Lady Byron's new, incredible, and strange +refusal to return,—he felt his conscience disencumbered of all morbid +influences. The testimony given, the absolution awarded by this +impartial, incorruptible judge, whom he had never ceased to consult, +became sufficient for him. And by degrees, as he succeeded in +forgetting, so as to have power to forgive, peace and tranquillity +revisited his mind. Venice was the city of his dream; he had known her, +he said, ere he visited her, and after the East she it was that haunted +his imagination. Reality spoiled nothing of his dream; he loved every +thing about her,—the solemn gayety of her gondolas, the silence of her +canals, the late hours of her theatres and soirées, the movement and +animation reigning on St. Mark's, where the gay world nightly assembled. +Even the decay of the town (which saddened him later), harmonizing then +with the whole scene, was not displeasing. He regretted the old costumes +given up; but the Carnival, though waning, still recalled ancient +Venice, and rejoiced his heart. Familiar with the Italian language, he +took pleasure in studying, also, the Venetian dialect, the naïveté and +softness of which charmed him, especially on woman's lips. Stretched in +his gondola, he loved to court the breezes of the Adriatic, especially +at twilight and moonlit hours, unrivalled for their splendor in Venice. +In summer and autumn he delighted to give the rein to his horse along +the solitary banks of the Lido, or beside the flower-enamelled borders +of the Brenta. He loved the simplicity of the women, the freedom from +hypocrisy of the men. Feeling himself liked by those among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609">[Pg 609] </a></span> whom chance +or choice had thrown him, frequenting theatres and society that could +both amuse and instruct, though powerless to fill his thoughts, for +these latter required more substantial food, and some hard difficult +study to occupy them, being free from all disquieting passions, and +wishing to remain thus, sociable as he was by temperament, though loving +solitude for the sake of his genius; under all these circumstances, he +could satisfy, in due proportion, the double exigency of his nature; for +he lived, as we have seen, amid a small circle of sympathetic +acquaintances, and of friends arriving from England, who clustered round +him without interfering with the independence he had regained, and which +formed the natural necessary element for his mind; though he had been +deprived of it in England by the cant and pusillanimity of his friends. +If, then, he was not exactly happy at this time, at least he was on the +road leading to happiness. For he was beginning to make progress in the +path of philosophy,—a gentle, indulgent, generous philosophy, as deep +as it was clever and pleasing, and which afterward ruled his life, and +inspired his genius. All those who saw him at this period are unanimous +in saying that melancholy then held aloof from him. In all his letters +we find proof of the same. "Venice and I go on well together," wrote he +to Murray.</p> + +<p>And elsewhere,—"I go out a great deal, and am very well pleased."</p> + +<p>Mr. Rose, who visited him at Venice, in the spring of 1818, began a poem +which he addressed to him from Albano, where he was taking baths for his +health, by alluding to the gayety which Byron spread around him at the +reunions which he liked.</p> + +<p>But while those living near him, and at Venice, where his poetry was not +known, would never have imagined him to be melancholy, in England and +other places where people read the sorrow-breathing creations of his +genius, he continued to be considered the very personification of +melancholy or misanthropy. He knew, and laughed about it sometimes.</p> + +<p>"I suppose now I shall never be able to shake off my sable, in public +imagination, more particularly since my moral wife demolished my +reputation. However, not that, nor more than that, has yet extinguished +my spirit, which always rises with the rebound."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_610" id="Page_610">[Pg 610] </a></span></p> + +<p>And as he did not wish to be considered a misanthrope, he added to +Moore, in the same letter:—</p> + +<p>"I wish you would also tell Jeffrey what you know,—that I was not, and +indeed, am not, even <i>now</i>, the misanthropical and gloomy gentleman for +which he takes me, but a facetious companion, getting on well with those +with whom I am intimate, and as loquacious and laughing as if I were a +much cleverer fellow."</p> + +<p>And at the same time, to disabuse the public also, and show that he +could write gayly, he set himself to study a kind of poetry thoroughly +Italian in its spirit, and of which Berni is the father; poetry replete +with wit, and somewhat free, but devoid of malice, even when it merges +from gayety into satire; a style unknown to England in its varied +shades, and which it was easier for him to introduce than to make +popular. "Beppo" was his first essay in this line, and it contains too +much genuine fun not to have been a natural product of his humor ere +flowing from his pen.</p> + +<p>On sending it to Murray as a mere sample of the style he thought it +possible to introduce into the literature of his country, he said:—</p> + +<p>"At least, this poem will show that I can write gayly, and will repel +the accusation of monotony and affectation."<a name="FNanchor_183_183" id="FNanchor_183_183"></a><a href="#Footnote_183_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a></p> + +<p>But the gayety visible at this period in his writings and his conduct +was not, however, uninterrupted. For such cheerfulness to be constant, +neither a continuation of the causes producing it, nor yet the absence +of English papers and reviews could quite suffice. It was necessary that +no letters should come, awakening painful remembrances that had +slumbered awhile, that there should be no necessity for selling his +property in England,—a matter always complicated, and difficult of +execution at a distance, and which forced upon him cares and occupations +most opposed to his character, while affording sad proof of the +negligence, ingratitude, and other faults of those intrusted with the +management of his affairs. It would have required that friends who had +neglected to prevent his departure, should not, when weary of seeing him +no more, have conspired to bring about his return, devising a good means +of so doing by obstacles thrown in the way of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611">[Pg 611] </a></span> successful issue to his +affairs, which happy conclusion was absolutely necessary for his peace +and independence. We see by his letters, written during the summer of +1818, that he was tormented in a thousand ways; sometimes not receiving +any accounts, sometimes being advised to come nearer London, then, +again, having no tidings of how several thousands had been disposed of. +Besides that, he had constantly before his eyes a spectacle most painful +for a generous heart to witness. That was Venice choked and expiring in +the grip of her foreign rulers. The humiliation thus inflicted on the +city of his dreams, and its noble race of inhabitants, and which was +every instant repeated and proclaimed by the brutal voice of drums and +cannons, with a thousand added vexations (necessary, perhaps, for +keeping up an abhorred sway), caused infinite suffering to his just and +liberal nature, raising emotions of anger and pitying regret, that +flowed from his pen in sublimely indignant language. Thereupon, the +despots, unable to impose silence upon him, revenged themselves in +various ways, echoing reports spread in London, and inventing new +fables, which the idle people of Venice, more idle than elsewhere, and +even the gondoliers repeated in their turn to strangers, to amuse and +gain a few pence. We pass over any details of the persecution inflicted +on him by English tourists, who, not actuated by sympathy, but out of +sheer curiosity and eagerness to pick up all the gossip and idle tales +in circulation, were wont to run after Lord Byron, intruding on his +private walks, and even pressing into his very palace. Such conduct, of +course, displeased him, and accordingly in the summer of 1818 we find +traces of ill-humor visible in his correspondence, and even in the first +two cantos of "Don Juan." Afterward, when he had been laid hold of and +absorbed by a great passion, his irritation merged into sadness, +melancholy, disquietude, and irresolution.<a name="FNanchor_184_184" id="FNanchor_184_184"></a><a href="#Footnote_184_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a></p> + +<p>But if all this proves that sadness wearing the garb of melancholy +sometimes approached him, even at Venice; we see too clearly its real +and accidental causes to be able to ascribe it to a permanent and fatal +disposition of temperament.</p> + +<p>Many signs of suffering escaped his pen at this time. For instance, +writing to Moore from Venice in 1818, and wishing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_612" id="Page_612">[Pg 612] </a></span> to give him a +picturesque description of a creature full of savage energy, who forced +herself upon him in a thousand extravagant ways, refusing to leave his +house, he said:—</p> + +<p>"I like this kind of animal, and am sure that I should have preferred +Medea to any woman that ever breathed. You may, perhaps, wonder at my +speaking thus (making allusion to Lady Byron).... I could have forgiven +the dagger or the bowl, any thing but the <i>deliberate desolation</i> piled +upon me when I stood <i>alone upon my hearth</i> with my household gods +shivered around me.... Do you suppose I have forgotten or forgiven it? +It has comparatively swallowed up in me every other feeling, and I shall +remain only a spectator upon this earth until some great occasion +presents itself, which may come yet. There are others more to be blamed +than——, and it is on these that my eyes are fixed unceasingly."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, until Providence should present him with this opportunity, +another feeling took involuntary possession of his whole soul. But would +not the sentiment which was about to swallow up or transform all others, +and which was at last to bring him some happiness, also destroy the +peace so carefully preserved in his heart by indifference since he left +London? He seemed at first to have dreaded such a result himself; for, +in one of the earliest letters addressed to the person beloved (letters +which fully unveil his beautiful soul, and where one would vainly seek +an indelicate or sensual expression), he tells her "that he had +resolved, on system, to avoid a great passion," but that she had put to +flight all his resolutions, that he is wholly hers, and will become all +she wishes, happy perhaps in her love, but never more at peace,—"<i>ma +tranquillo mai più</i>."</p> + +<p>And he ends the letter with a verse quoted from Guarini's "Pastor +Fido."<a name="FNanchor_185_185" id="FNanchor_185_185"></a><a href="#Footnote_185_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a></p> + +<p>His heart assuredly was satisfied, but precisely because he truly loved, +and felt himself beloved; therefore did he also suffer from the +impossibility of reconciling the exigencies of his heart with +circumstances. In one of these beautiful letters, so full of simplicity +and refinement, he tells her:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_613" id="Page_613">[Pg 613] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"What we shall have to suffer is of common occurrence, and we must bear +it like many others, for true love is never happy; but we two shall +suffer still more because we are placed in no ordinary circumstances."</p> + +<p>His real sentiments of soul are likewise displayed in that beautiful +satirical poem, "Don Juan," in the third canto of which he exclaims:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"Oh, Love! what is it in this world of ours<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah, why</span><br /> +With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And made thy best interpreter a sigh?"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Nevertheless, when he had left Venice, which became altogether +distasteful to him, and gone to live at Ravenna, his heart grew calmer. +To Murray he writes:—</p> + +<p>"You inquire after my health and <i>spirits</i> in large letters; my health +can't be very bad, for I cured myself of a sharp tertian ague in three +weeks, with cold water, which had held my stoutest gondolier for months, +notwithstanding all the bark of the apothecary,—a circumstance which +surprised D'Aglietti, who said it was a proof of great stamina, +particularly in so epidemic a season. I did it out of dislike to the +taste of bark (which I can't bear), and succeeded, contrary to the +prophecies of every body, by simply taking nothing at all. As to +spirits, they are unequal, now high, now low,—like other people's, I +suppose, and depending upon circumstances."</p> + +<p>Having grown intimate with the Count and Countess G——, he was +requested by the former to accompany his young wife into society, to the +play, everywhere, in short; soon Lord Byron took up his abode in their +palace, and the repose of heart and mind he thus attained was so great, +that no sadness seemed able to come near him, as long as this tranquil, +regular, pleasing sort of existence lasted, and it seemed destined to +endure forever.</p> + +<p>But nothing is permanent here below, and especially happiness, be its +source regular or irregular; such is the mysterious eternal law of this +earthly life, doubtless one of probation. To this period of tranquillity +succeeded one of uneasiness and grief, which ended by awakening a little +melancholy. Let us examine the causes of it in his position at that +time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_614" id="Page_614">[Pg 614] </a></span></p> + +<p>The object of Lord Byron's love had obtained from His Holiness Pope Pius +VII., at the solicitation of her parents, permission to leave her +husband's house, and return home to her family. Consequently she had +left in the month of July, and was leading a retired life in a +country-house belonging to her parents. Thus Lord Byron, who had been +accustomed to feel happy in her society, was now reduced to solitude in +the same place her presence had gladdened. In order not to compromise +her in her delicate position, he was obliged even to deny himself the +gratification of calling upon her in the country. Ravenna, which is +always a sad kind of abode, becomes in autumn quite a desert, liable to +fever. Everybody had gone into the country. Even if taste had not +inclined Lord Byron to be alone, necessity would have compelled it; for +there was no longer a single being with whom he could exchange a word or +a thought. Equinoctial gales again swept the sea; and thus the wholesome +exercise of swimming, so useful in restoring equilibrium to the +faculties and calming the mind, was forbidden. If at least he could have +roamed on horseback through the forest of pines! But no; the autumn +rains, even in this lovely climate, last for weeks. In the absolute +solitude of a town like Ravenna, imprisoned, so to say, within his own +apartment, how could he avoid some emotions of sadness? He was thus +assailed; and, as it always happened where he himself was concerned, he +mistook its causes. Engrossed by an affection that was amply returned, +feeling strong against the injustice of man and the hardships of fate, +having become well-nigh inaccessible to <i>ennui</i>, he was astonished at +the sadness that always seemed to return in autumn, and imagined that it +might be from some hereditary malady inherent to his temperament.</p> + +<p>"This season kills me with sadness," he wrote to Madame G——, on the +28th of September; "when I have my mental malady, it is well for others +that I keep away. I thank thee, from my heart, for the roses. Love me! +My soul is like the leaves that fall in autumn, all yellow."</p> + +<p>And then, as if he almost reproached himself with being sad without some +cause existing in the heart, and, above all, not wishing to pain Madame +G——, he wound up with a joke, saying:—"Here is a cantator;" a +conventional word recalling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615">[Pg 615] </a></span> some buffooneries in a play, and which +signified:—"Here is a fine sentence!"</p> + +<p>Certainly, the autumnal season, sad and rainy as it is, must have had +great influence over him. Could it be otherwise with an organization +like his? From this point of view, his melancholy, like his temperament, +might be considered as hereditary. But would it have been developed +without the aid of other causes?</p> + +<p>Let us observe the date of the letter, wherein he blames the season, and +the dates of those received from London, or those he addressed thither. +The coincidence between them will show clearly that when he called +himself melancholy, and accused the season, it occurred precisely on the +day when he was most wearied and overwhelmed by a host of other +disagreeable things. For instance, Murray, whose answers on several +points he had been impatiently expecting, was seized with a new fit of +silence. "There you are at your tricks."<a name="FNanchor_186_186" id="FNanchor_186_186"></a><a href="#Footnote_186_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a></p> + +<p>And then, when the silence was broken, the letters almost always brought +him disagreeable accounts. Wishing to disgust him with Italy, they sent +him volumes full of unjust, stupid attacks on Italy and the Italians +whom he liked.</p> + +<p>"These fools," exclaimed he, "will force me to write a book myself on +Italy, to tell them broadly <i>they have lied</i>."</p> + +<p>Nothing was more disagreeable, and even hurtful to him, at this time, +than the report of his return to England; and they wrote him word that +his presence in London was asserted on all sides, that many persons +declared that they had seen him, and that Lady C. L—— had been to call +at his house fully persuaded that he was there.<a name="FNanchor_187_187" id="FNanchor_187_187"></a><a href="#Footnote_187_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a></p> + +<p>"Pray do not let the papers paragraph me back to England. They may say +what they please, any loathsome abuse but that. Contradict it."</p> + +<p>In consequence of this invention, even his newspapers were no longer +sent to him; and when he spoke of the harm and annoyance thus +occasioned, annoyance increased by Murray's silence, his displeasure +certainly amounted to anger. At this time also he was informed by letter +that some English tourists, on returning home, had boasted that they +<i>could</i> have been presented to him at Venice, but <i>would not</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_616" id="Page_616">[Pg 616] </a></span></p> + +<p>The trial of the unfortunate queen was just coming on at this time, and +the whole proceeding, accompanied as it was with so many cruel, indecent +circumstances, revolted him in the highest degree.</p> + +<p>"No one here," said he, "believes a word of all the infamous depositions +made."</p> + +<p>The article in "Blackwood's Magazine," which was so abominably libellous +as to force him out of the silence <i>he had adopted for his rule</i>, was +often present to his thought; for he dreaded lest his editor should for +the sake of lucre publish "Don Juan" with his name, and lest the Noels +and other enemies, out of revenge, should profit thereby to contest his +right of guardianship over his child, as had been the case with Shelley.</p> + +<p>"Recollect, that if you put my name to 'Don Juan' in these canting days, +any lawyer might oppose my guardian-right of my daughter in chancery, on +the plea of its containing the parody. Such are the perils of a foolish +jest. I was not aware of this at the time, but you will find it correct, +I believe; and you may be sure that the Noels would not let it slip. +Now, I prefer my child to a poem at any time."</p> + +<p>Moreover, amid all these pre-occupations, Hobhouse wrote him word that +he should be obliged to go to England for the queen's trial; and we know +how repugnant this necessity was to Lord Byron. His little Allegra had +just fallen rather dangerously ill; Countess G——, notwithstanding the +sentence pronounced by His Holiness, continued to be tormented by her +husband, who refused to accept the decision of Rome, because he did not +wish for a separation. The Papal Government, pushed on by the Austrian +police, had recourse to a thousand small vexatious measures, to make +Lord Byron quit Ravenna, where he had given offense by becoming too +popular with the liberal party.</p> + +<p>Lastly, we may further add that, even in those days, he was suffering +from some jealous susceptibility, though knowing well how he was +beloved. For in the letter, dated 28th of September, where he says "his +soul is sick," he also complains of Madame G——'s having passed some +hours at Ravenna <i>without letting him know, and of her having thought +fit to hide from him certain steps taken</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_617" id="Page_617">[Pg 617] </a></span></p> + +<p>This autumn was followed by a winter still more disagreeably exceptional +than the preceding one. The most inclement weather prevailed during the +month of January, and generally throughout the winter.</p> + +<p>"Bad weather, this 4th of January," he writes in his memoranda, "as bad +as in London itself."</p> + +<p>The sirocco, a wind that depresses even people without nerves, was +blowing and melting the ice. The streets and roads were transformed into +pools of half-congealed mud. He was somewhat "<i>out of spirits</i>." But +still he hoped:—</p> + +<p>"If the roads and weather allow, I shall go out on horseback to-morrow. +It is high time; already we have had a week of this work: snow and +sirocco one day, ice and snow the other. A sad climate for Italy; but +these two winters have been extraordinary."</p> + +<p>The next day, he got up "<i>dull and drooping</i>." The weather had not +changed. Lord Byron absolutely required to breathe a little fresh air +every day, to take exercise on horseback. His health was excellent, but +on these two conditions; otherwise, it failed. His temper clouded over, +without air and exercise. During the wretched days he was obliged to +remain at home, he had not even the diversion letters and newspapers +might have afforded, since no post came in. His sole amusement consisted +in stirring the fire, and playing with Lion, his mastiff, or with his +little menagerie. So much did he suffer from it all, that his kind heart +bestowed pity even on his horses:—</p> + +<p>" ... Horses must have exercise—get a ride as soon as weather serves; +deuced muggy still. An Italian winter is a sad thing, but all the other +seasons are charming."</p> + +<p>On the 7th of January, he adds:—</p> + +<p>"Still rain, mist, snow, drizzle, and all the incalculable combinations +of a climate where heat and cold struggle for mastery."</p> + +<p>If the weather cleared up one day, it was only to become more inclement +the next.</p> + +<p>On the 12th he wrote in his journal:—</p> + +<p>"The weather still so humid and impracticable, that London, in its most +oppressive fogs, were a summer bower to this mist and sirocco, which has +now lasted (but with one day's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_618" id="Page_618">[Pg 618] </a></span> interval), checkered with snow or heavy +rain only, since the 30th of December, 1820. It is so far lucky that I +have a literary turn; but it is very tiresome not to be able to stir +out, in comfort, on any horse but Pegasus, for so many days. The roads +are even worse than the weather, by the long splashing, and the heavy +soil, and the inundations."</p> + +<p>And on the 19th:—</p> + +<p>"Winter's wind somewhat more unkind than ingratitude itself, though +Shakspeare says otherwise.... Rather low in spirits—certainly +hippish—liver touched—will take a dose of salts."</p> + +<p>There was, however, too much elasticity of spirits in him, and his +melancholy was not sufficiently deep for it to last. His evening visit +to Countess G—— at eight o'clock (the day's event consoling for all +else), a few simple airs played by her on the piano, some slight +diversion, such as a ray of sunshine between two showers, or a star in +the heavens raising hopes of a brighter morrow, sufficed to clear up his +horizon. What always raised his spirits was the prospect of some good or +great and generous action to perform, such, in those days, as +contributing to the deliverance of a nation. Then, not only did the +sirocco and falling rain cease to act on his nerves, as he himself +acknowledged, but his genius would start into fresh life, making him +snatch a pen, and write off in a few days admirable poems,<a name="FNanchor_188_188" id="FNanchor_188_188"></a><a href="#Footnote_188_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a> worthy +to be the fruit of long years of meditation.</p> + +<p>We may, then, believe that if his melancholy had been left solely to the +physical and moral influences surrounding him at this time, it would +never have become much developed, or at least would have soon passed +away, like morning mists that rise in the east to be quickly dissipated +by the rays of the sun.</p> + +<p>But just as these slight vapors may form into a cloud, if winds arise in +another part of the sky, bringing fresh moisture to them, so a slight +and fugitive sadness in him might be deepened and prolonged through +circumstances. And this was exactly what happened in the year of which +we speak, for it was full of disappointments and grief for him. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_619" id="Page_619">[Pg 619] </a></span>To +arrive at this persuasion, it is sufficient to remark the coincidence of +dates. For example, we find in his memoranda, under the date of 18th of +January, 1821:—</p> + +<p>"At eight proposed to go out. Lega came in with a letter about a bill +<i>unpaid</i> at Venice, which I thought paid months ago. I flew into a +paroxysm of rage, which almost made me faint. I have not been well ever +since. I deserve it for being such a fool—but it <i>was</i> provoking—a set +of scoundrels! It is, however, but five-and-twenty pounds."</p> + +<p>Then, again, on the 19th we find:—</p> + +<p>"Rode. Winter's wind somewhat more unkind than ingratitude itself, +though Shakspeare says otherwise. At least I am so much more accustomed +to meet with ingratitude than the north wind, that I thought the latter +the sharper of the two. I had met with both in the course of twenty-four +hours, so could judge."</p> + +<p>And on the same day he wrote to Murray a letter, in which, after +mentioning a host of vexations and worries, he ends by saying:—</p> + +<p>"I am in bad humor—some obstructions in business with those plaguing +trustees, who object to an advantageous loan, which I was to furnish to +a nobleman (Lord B——) on mortgage, because his property is in Ireland, +have shown me how a man is treated in his absence."</p> + +<p>Between the 19th and the 22d, his physical and moral indisposition +seemed to last; for he makes reflections in his memoranda, upon +melancholy bilious people, and says that he has not even sufficient +energy to go on with his tragedy of "Sardanapalus," and that he has +ceased composing for the last few days. Now, it was precisely the 20th +that he was more than ever annoyed by the obstinacy of the London +Theatre managers, for, despite his determination and his clear right, +his protestations and entreaties, they were resolved, said the +newspapers that came to hand, on having "Marino Faliero" acted. He had +already written to Murray:—</p> + +<p>"I must really and seriously request that you will beg of Messrs. Harris +or Elliston to let the Doge alone: it is not an acting play; it will not +serve their purpose; it will destroy yours (the sale); and it will +distress me. It is not courteous, it is hardly even gentlemanly, to +persist in this appropriation of a man's writings to their +mountebanks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_620" id="Page_620">[Pg 620] </a></span></p> + +<p>He wrote thus, on the 19th; but on the 20th his fears had increased to +such a pitch that he also addressed the lord-chamberlain, requesting him +to forbid this representation. Indeed, so great was his annoyance, that +he wrote to Murray twice in the same day:—</p> + +<p>"I wish you would speak to Lord Holland, and to all my friends and +yours, to interest themselves in preventing this cursed attempt at +representation.</p> + +<p>"God help me! at this distance, I am treated like a corpse or a fool by +the few people that I thought I could rely upon; and I <i>was</i> a fool to +think any better of them than of the rest of mankind."</p> + +<p>On the 21st his melancholy does not appear to have worn off. This is to +be attributed to the additions to all the causes of the previous day; +and to the news of the illness of Moore, whom he loved so much, there +came, in addition, the following event, which we give in his own +words:—</p> + +<p>"To-morrow is my birthday—that is to say, at twelve o' the clock, +midnight—<i>i.e.</i>, in twelve minutes, I shall have completed thirty-three +years of age!!! and I go to my bed with a heaviness of heart at having +lived so long, and to so little purpose."</p> + +<p>Let me be allowed here to make some comment on the beauty of the +sentiment causing this sadness; for certainly he was not actuated by a +common sensual, selfish regret at youth departing. Beauty, youth, love, +fortune, and celebrity, all smiled on him then; he possessed every one +of them to a degree capable of satisfying any vanity, or any pride, but +they were inadequate, for a modesty so rare and so admirable as his! His +regrets certainly did not apply to youth; he was only thirty-three years +of age! Nor yet to beauty, for he possessed it in the highest degree; +nor to fame, that had only too much been his; nor to love, for he was +the object of real idolatry;<a name="FNanchor_189_189" id="FNanchor_189_189"></a><a href="#Footnote_189_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a> nor to any actions that called for +repentance. To what, then, did they apply? To his <i>aspirations</i> after +greater things, after <i>ideal perfections</i>, that neither he nor any one +else can arrive at here below. It was a soaring after the infinite!</p> + +<p>The cause, noble in itself, of this sadness consisted then in a sort of +nostalgia for the great, the beautiful, the good. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_621" id="Page_621">[Pg 621] </a></span> simple words in +which he expressed it enable us to well understand its nature. "I do not +regret this year," said he, "<i>for what I have done, but for what I have +not done</i>!"</p> + +<p>I will not further multiply proofs; suffice it to say, that this year +having been one of incessant annoyances to him, not only can not we be +surprised that he should have experienced moments of sadness, but we +might rather be astonished at their being so few, if we did not know +that living above all for heart, and his heart being then satisfied, he +found therein compensation for all the rest. "Thanks for your +compliments of the year. I hope that it will be pleasanter than the +last. I speak with reference to England only, as far as regards myself, +where I had every kind of disappointment—lost an important lawsuit—and +the trustees of Lady Byron refusing to allow of an advantageous loan to +be made from my property to Lord Blessington, etc., by way of closing +the four seasons. These, and a hundred other such things, made a year of +bitter business for me in England. Luckily things were a little +pleasanter for me here, else I should have taken the liberty of +Hannibal's ring."</p> + +<p>The political and revolutionary events then taking place in Romagna and +throughout Italy, caused emotions and sentiments of too strong a nature +in Lord Byron to be confounded with sadness; but they may well have +contributed to develop largely certain melancholy inclinations +discoverable toward autumn. By degrees, as the first strength of grief +passes away, it leaves behind a sort of melancholy current in the soul, +which, without being the sentiment itself, serves as a conductor for it, +making it gush forth on occurrence of the smallest cause. Causes with +him were not so slight at this period, although he considered them +such<a name="FNanchor_190_190" id="FNanchor_190_190"></a><a href="#Footnote_190_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a> out of the superabundance of his philosophical spirit; and the +year that began with so many contradictions, ended in the same manner. +The hope of seeing the Counts Gamba back again at Ravenna was daily +lessening. All the letters Madame G—— wrote to him from Florence and +Pisa, penned as they were amid the anguish of fear lest Lord Byron +should be assassinated at Ravenna, were necessarily pregnant with alarm +and affliction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_622" id="Page_622">[Pg 622] </a></span></p> + +<p>Meanwhile his interests were being neglected in London. Murray irritated +him by his inexplicable negligence or worried him with sending foolish +publications and provoking reviews. Gifford, a critic he loved and +revered, from whom no praise, he said, could compensate for any +blame,—Gifford, whose ideas on the drama were quite opposite to his +own, had just been censuring his beautiful dramatic compositions.<a name="FNanchor_191_191" id="FNanchor_191_191"></a><a href="#Footnote_191_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a> +Moreover, Italy having failed in her attempts at independence, was +insulted in her misfortune by that world which smiles only on success, +and thus, indirectly, the persons loved and esteemed by Lord Byron came +in for their share of outrage. And all these contradictions, <i>where</i> and +<i>when</i> did he experience them? At Ravenna, in a solitude and isolation +that would have made the bravest stoic shudder, and that was prejudicial +to him without his being aware of it. For there were two distinct +temperaments in Lord Byron, that of his genius and that of his humanity, +and the wants of one were not always those of the other. The first, from +its nature and manifestations, required solitude. The second, eminently +sociable, while yielding to the tyranny of the first, or bearing it from +force of circumstance, suffered nevertheless when solitude became too +complete. It was not the society of the great world, nor what are called +its pleasures, that Lord Byron required; but a society of friends and +clever persons capable of affording a little diversion to his monotonous +life. When this twofold want did not meet with reasonable satisfaction, +a certain degree of melancholy necessarily developed itself. "<i>When he +was not thrown into some unbearable sort of solitude, like that in which +he found himself at Ravenna</i>," says Madame G——," <i>his good-humor and +gayety only varied when letters from England came to move and agitate +him, or when he suffered morally</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>I must, however, add that all sensitive agents, all atmospherical +impressions, acted on him more than on others, and it might almost be +said that his sky was mirrored in his soul, the latter often taking its +color from the former; and if by that is understood the hereditary +malady spoken of by others and himself, then they are right, for he had +truly inherited a most impressionable temperament.</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_623" id="Page_623">[Pg 623] </a></span></p> + +<p>Moreover, the absolute, inexorable solitude caused by the absence of all +his friends from Ravenna, was still further augmented by the occurrence +of intermittent marshy fevers, which every body endeavors to avoid by +flying from Ravenna at the close of summer, and to which he fell a prey. +This fever, that seized hold of him, and even prevented his departure, +might alone have sufficed to render him melancholy, for nothing more +inclines to sadness. But so intimate was his persuasion that when +sadness does not proceed from the heart it has no cause for existence, +and so little was he occupied with self, that he would not allow there +could be sufficient cause for melancholy in all the sufferings weighing +upon him.</p> + +<p>"I ride, I am not intemperate in eating or drinking, and my general +health is as usual, except a slight ague, which rather does good than +not. It must be constitutional; for I know nothing more than usual to +depress me to that degree."<a name="FNanchor_192_192" id="FNanchor_192_192"></a><a href="#Footnote_192_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a></p> + +<p>But so little was it the necessary product of his temperament alone, so +much, on the contrary, did it result from a host of causes accidentally +united, that he had scarcely arrived at Pisa, where most of the causes +either ceased or were neutralized, than his mind recovered its serenity, +and he could write to Moore:—</p> + +<p>"At present, owing to the climate (I can walk down into my garden and +pluck my own oranges, indulging in this meridian luxury of +proprietorship), my spirits are much better."</p> + +<p>Whenever, then, his heart was happy in the happiness of those he loved, +wherever he found an intellectual society to animate the mind, diverting +and amusing him without imposing the chains of etiquette, we vainly seek +the faintest trace of melancholy. But two great griefs soon befell him +at Pisa, for sorrow never made long truces with Byron. Truly might we +say that fate ceased not from making him pay for the privilege of his +great superiority, by all the sufferings he endured. Soon after his +arrival at Pisa, his little daughter Allegra, whom he was having +educated at a convent in Romagna, died of fever, and shortly afterward +Shelley was drowned! About the same time the publication of "Cain," then +going on, raised a perfect storm, furnishing his enemies with pretexts +for attacking and slandering him more than ever. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_624" id="Page_624">[Pg 624] </a></span> did it in a +manner so violent and unjust, bringing in likewise his publisher Murray, +that Lord Byron thought it incumbent on him to send a challenge to the +poet laureate, the most perfidious among them all. At this same period, +Hunt, who had lost all means of existence by the death of Shelley, +forced himself on Lord Byron in such a disagreeable way as to become the +plague of his life. Lastly, in consequence of a quarrel that arose +between Sergeant Masi and Lord Byron's riding companions, an arbitrary +measure was taken, which again compelled his friends—the Counts +Gamba—to leave Pisa for Genoa; and he, though free to remain, resolved +on sharing their fate and quitting Pisa likewise. For the Government, +though subservient to Austrian rule, did not dare to apply the same +unjust decree to an English subject of such high rank. Nevertheless, if +we except the death of his little girl, which caused him profound +sorrow—although he bore it with all the fortitude belonging to his +great soul—and the death of Shelley, which also afflicted him greatly, +none of the other annoyances had power to grieve him or to create +melancholy.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," he wrote to Murray, "that what with my own country and +other lands, there has been <i>hot water enough</i> for some time." This +manner of announcing so many disagreeables, shows what self-possession +he had arrived at, and how he viewed all things calmly and sagely, as +Disraeli portrays him with truth in "Venetia," when he makes him +say:—"'<i>As long as the world leaves us quiet, and does not burn us +alive, we ought to be pleased. I have grown callous to all they say</i>,' +observed Herbert. '<i>And I also</i>,' replied Lord Cadurcis." Cadurcis and +Herbert both represent Lord Byron; for Disraeli, like Moore, having felt +that Lord Byron had enough in him to furnish several individualities, +all equally powerful, thought it necessary to call in the aid of this +double personification, in order to paint his nature in all its +richness, with the changes to be wrought by time and events.</p> + +<p>If the war waged against Lord Byron by envy, bigotry, and wickedness, +had had power to create emotion during youth, and even later, the +gentle, wise philosophy he afterward acquired in the school of +adversity, so elevated his mind, that he could no longer suffer, except +from wounds of heart, provided his conscience were at rest. When the +stupid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_625" id="Page_625">[Pg 625] </a></span> persecution raised against him on the appearance of "Cain" took +place, he wrote to Murray from Pisa, on the 8th of February:—</p> + +<p>"All the <i>row</i> about <i>me</i> has no otherwise affected me than by the +attack upon yourself, which is ungenerous in Church and State.... I can +only say, 'Me, me; en adeum qui feci;'—that any proceedings directed +against you, I beg may be transferred to me, who am willing, and +<i>ought</i>, to endure them all."</p> + +<p>And then he ends his letter, saying, "I write to you about all this row +of bad passions and absurdities, with the <i>summer</i> moon (for here our +winter is clearer than your dog-days), lighting the winding Arno, with +all her buildings and bridges,—so quiet and still!—<i>What nothings are +we before the least of these stars!</i>"</p> + +<p>Soon after, and while still suffering under the same persecution from +his enemies and weak fools, he wrote to Moore from Montenero, recalling +in his usual vein of pleasantry, their mutual adventures in fashionable +London life, and saying, that he should have done better while listening +to Moore as he tuned his harp and sang, <i>to have thrown himself out of +the window, ere marrying a Miss Milbank</i>.</p> + +<p>"I speak merely of my marriage, and its consequences, distresses, and +calumnies; for I have been much more happy, on the whole, <i>since</i>, than +I ever could have been with her."</p> + +<p>And some time after, conversing with Madame G——, examining and +analyzing all he might have done as an orator and a politician, if he +had remained in England, he added:—</p> + +<p>"That then he would not have known her, and that no other advantages +could have given him the happiness which he found in real affection."</p> + +<p>This conversation, interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Mr. +Hobhouse, and which, but for the inexplicable sadness arising from +presentiments, would have made earth a paradise for the person to whom +it was addressed, took place at Pisa, in Lord Byron's garden, a few days +before his departure for Genoa. At Genoa he continued to lead the same +retired, studious, simple kind of life; and, although the winter was +this year again extremely rigorous, and although his health had been +slightly affected since the day of Shelley's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_626" id="Page_626">[Pg 626] </a></span> funeral, and his stay at +Genoa made unpleasant by the ennui proceeding from Mr. Hunt's presence +there,<a name="FNanchor_193_193" id="FNanchor_193_193"></a><a href="#Footnote_193_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a> still he had no fit of what can be called melancholy until +he decided on leaving for Greece. Then the sadness that he would fain +have concealed, but could not, which he betrayed in the parting hour, +acknowledged while climbing the hill of Albano, and which often brought +tears to his eyes on board the vessel—this sadness had its source in +the deepest sentiments of his heart. In Greece, we know, by the +unanimous and constant testimony of all who saw him there, that the rare +fits of melancholy he experienced, all arose from the same cause. During +his sojourn in the Ionian Islands, as soon as letters from Italy had +calmed his uneasiness, finding himself surrounded by general esteem, +affection, and admiration, seeing justice dawn for him, and confusion +for his enemies, being consoled also with the prospect of a future, and +that, with heart at ease, he might at last shed happiness around him; +then he was ever to be found full of serenity and even gayety, <i>only +intent on noble virtuous actions</i>. One day, however, a great melancholy +seized upon him, and all the good around suddenly appeared to vanish. +Whence did this arise? His letters tell us:—</p> + +<p>"Poor Byron!" wrote Count Gamba, to his sister, on the 14th of October, +"he has been much concerned by the news which reached him some fortnight +ago about the headache of his dear Ada. You may imagine how <i>triste</i> +were the workings of his fancy, to which he added the fear of having to +spend several months without hearing any further tidings of her; besides +the suspicion that the truth was either kept back from him or disguised. +Happily, another bulletin has reached him, to say that she is all right +again,—and one more, to announce that the child is in good health, with +the exception of a slight pain in the eyes. His melancholy is, +therefore, a little mitigated, though it has not completely +disappeared."</p> + +<p>The pre-occupation, disquietude, and anxiety, which he experienced more +or less continuously in Greece, and above all, at Missolonghi, and which +I have mentioned elsewhere, certainly did agitate, trouble, and even +irritate him sometimes; but then it was in such a passing way, on +account of the great empire he had acquired over himself, that every one +during<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_627" id="Page_627">[Pg 627] </a></span> his sojourn in the islands, and often even at Missolonghi, +unanimously pronounced gayety to be his predominant disposition. And, +truly, it was only to griefs proceeding from the heart that he granted +power to cloud his brow with any kind of melancholy.</p> + +<p>After this long analysis, and before summing up, it still remains for us +to examine a species of melancholy that seems not to come within our +limits, but which occasionally seized upon him on his first waking in +the morning:—</p> + +<p>"I have been considering what can be the reason why I always wake at a +certain hour in the morning, and always in very bad spirits—I may say, +in actual despair and despondency, in all respects—even of that which +pleased me over-night. In about an hour or two, this goes off, and I +compose myself either to sleep again, or at least, to quiet.... What is +it?—liver?... I suppose that it is all hypochondriasis."</p> + +<p>What name shall we give to this physiological phenomenon? Was it +hypochondriasis, as he imagined? That Lord Byron's temperament, so +sensitive to all moral causes, so vulnerable to all atmospherical +influences, should likewise have contained a vein of hypochondriasis, is +not only possible, but likely. And were we as partial as we wish to be +just, there would certainly be no reason for denying it. Hypochondriasis +is an infirmity, not a fault. Lord Byron himself, when informed that +such a one complained of being called hypochondriacal, replied somewhat +to the following effect: "I can not conceive how a man in perfect good +health can feel wounded by being told that he is hypochondriacal, since +his face and his conduct refute the accusation. Were this accusation +ever to prove correct, to what does it amount, except to say that he has +a liver complaint?</p> + +<p>"'I shall publish it before the whole world,' said the clever +Smelfungus. 'I should prefer telling my doctor,' said I. There is +nothing dishonorable in such an illness, which is more especially that +of people who are studious. It has been the illness of those who are +good, wise, clever, and even light-hearted. Regnard, Molière, Johnson, +Gray, Burns, were all more or less given to it. Mendelssohn and Bayle +were often so afflicted with it, that they were obliged to have recourse +to toys, and to count the slates on the roof of the houses opposite, in +order to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_628" id="Page_628">[Pg 628] </a></span> distract their attention. Johnson says, that oftentimes he +would have given a limb to raise his spirits."</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, when we seek truth for itself, and not for its +results, nor to make it help out a system, we must go to the bottom of +things, and reveal all we discover. Thus, after having spoken of this +physiological phenomenon, which he suspects to be hypochondriasis, Byron +adds, that he came upon him, accompanied with great thirst, that the +London chemist, Mann, had cured him of it in three days, that it always +yielded to a few doses of salts, and that the phenomenon always recurred +and ended at the same hours. It appears, then, to me, that all these +symptoms are far from indicating a serious and incurable hereditary +malady, which would not be likely to have yielded to doses of salts, and +which his general good health would seem to exclude. I consider them +rather to point, for their cause, to his diet, which was <i>quite +insufficient for him, and even hurtful, likely to affect the most robust +health, and much more that of a man whose organization was so sensitive +and delicate</i>. And, as this system of denying his body what was +necessary for it increased the demands of his mind, which in its turn +revenged itself on the body, the result was that Lord Byron voluntarily +failed in the duties which every man owes to himself. Therefore, I think +it more just to rank the melancholy arising from such causes, among his +<i>faults</i>, and not among the accidents of life, or his natural +disposition.<a name="FNanchor_194_194" id="FNanchor_194_194"></a><a href="#Footnote_194_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a></p> + +<p>Now, having examined his melancholy under all its phases, having proved +more what it was not than what it was, we shall sum up with saying, that +Lord Byron really experienced, during his short life, every kind of +sadness. First, in early youth, he had to encounter disappointments, +mortifications, disenchantments, deep moral suffering; then the constant +warfare of envy, resulting in cruel, unceasing slanders: then, all the +philosophical sadness arising in great minds, the best endowed and the +noblest, from the emptiness of earthly things; then that unslakable +thirst for the true, the just, the perfect; that sort of nostalgia which +the noblest souls experience, because their home is not here, because +reality disgusts them, from the striking contrast it presents with the +ideal type, in their mind, especially at our epoch, and in our present +social condition,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_629" id="Page_629">[Pg 629] </a></span> when men can with difficulty preserve interior calm +by dint of compulsory occupations requiring much energy. And, lastly, +there was the sadness inherent to a physical temperament of such +exquisite sensibility. Yet, notwithstanding all the above, and though +Lord Byron was condemned to drain the cup of bitterness to its dregs, we +think he ought not to be classed among geniuses exclusively swayed by +the melancholy in their nature, since almost all his sadness sprang from +accident, and from a sort of fictitious temperament produced by +circumstances. Thus his melancholy, being fictitious, remained generally +subject in real life to his fine natural temperament, only gaining the +mastery when he was under the influence of inspiration, and with pen in +hand.</p> + +<p>"All is strange," says La Bruyère, "in the humor, morals, and manners of +most men.... The wants of this life, the situation in which we are, +necessity's law, force <i>nature, and cause great changes in it</i>. Thus +such men can not be defined, thoroughly and in themselves; too many +external things affect, change, and overwhelm them; they are not +precisely what they are, or rather, what they appear to be."</p> + +<p>Thus, then, having a natural disposition for gayety received from God, +and which I shall call <i>interior</i>, which always had the upper hand in +all important actions of his life, but which was only truly known by +those who approached him closely, I conclude that gayety often +predominated, and ought to have predominated much more, in Lord Byron's +life.</p> + +<p>But through the fictitious character, which I will call <i>exterior</i>, +derived from <i>education, from circumstances of family, country, and +association</i>, which (apparently) modified the first, and gave the world +sometimes a reason, and sometimes a pretext for inventing that dark myth +called by his name, <i>and which really only influenced his writings</i>, +melancholy often predominated in his life. However, its sway was less in +reality than in the imagination of those who wished to identify the man +with the poet, and to find the real Lord Byron in the heroes of his +early poems.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_630" id="Page_630">[Pg 630] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_161_161" id="Footnote_161_161"></a><a href="#FNanchor_161_161"><span class="label">[161]</span></a> See the Introduction.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_162_162" id="Footnote_162_162"></a><a href="#FNanchor_162_162"><span class="label">[162]</span></a> See chapter on "Generosity."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_163_163" id="Footnote_163_163"></a><a href="#FNanchor_163_163"><span class="label">[163]</span></a> See chapter on "Friendships."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_164_164" id="Footnote_164_164"></a><a href="#FNanchor_164_164"><span class="label">[164]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_165_165" id="Footnote_165_165"></a><a href="#FNanchor_165_165"><span class="label">[165]</span></a> See chapter on "Love of Fame."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_166_166" id="Footnote_166_166"></a><a href="#FNanchor_166_166"><span class="label">[166]</span></a> Dallas, vol. ii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_167_167" id="Footnote_167_167"></a><a href="#FNanchor_167_167"><span class="label">[167]</span></a> Moore, vol. i.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_168_168" id="Footnote_168_168"></a><a href="#FNanchor_168_168"><span class="label">[168]</span></a> See Moore, 35th and 36th letters.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_169_169" id="Footnote_169_169"></a><a href="#FNanchor_169_169"><span class="label">[169]</span></a> See "Childe Harold."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_170_170" id="Footnote_170_170"></a><a href="#FNanchor_170_170"><span class="label">[170]</span></a> See Introduction.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_171_171" id="Footnote_171_171"></a><a href="#FNanchor_171_171"><span class="label">[171]</span></a> "His lordship was in better spirits when I had met with +some adventure, and he chuckled with an inward sense of enjoyment, not +altogether without spleen, a kind of malicious satisfaction, as his +companions recounted, with all becoming gravity, their woes and +sufferings as an apology for begging a bed and a morsel for the night. +God forgive! but I partook of Byron's levity at the idea of personages +so consequential wandering destitute in the streets, seeking for +lodgings from door to door, and rejected at all. Next day, however, they +were accommodated by the governor with an agreeable house," etc.—<span class="smcap">Galt</span>, +p. 66.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_172_172" id="Footnote_172_172"></a><a href="#FNanchor_172_172"><span class="label">[172]</span></a> See chapter on "Courage, Coolness, and Self-control."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_173_173" id="Footnote_173_173"></a><a href="#FNanchor_173_173"><span class="label">[173]</span></a> Moore, vol. i.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_174_174" id="Footnote_174_174"></a><a href="#FNanchor_174_174"><span class="label">[174]</span></a> Galt says that what he relates of his visit to Ali Pasha +has all the <i>freshness and life of a scene going on under one's own +eye</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_175_175" id="Footnote_175_175"></a><a href="#FNanchor_175_175"><span class="label">[175]</span></a> See Moore, Letters 52 and 54, to Mrs. Byron.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_176_176" id="Footnote_176_176"></a><a href="#FNanchor_176_176"><span class="label">[176]</span></a> Galt, p. 105.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_177_177" id="Footnote_177_177"></a><a href="#FNanchor_177_177"><span class="label">[177]</span></a> Moore, Letter 81.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_178_178" id="Footnote_178_178"></a><a href="#FNanchor_178_178"><span class="label">[178]</span></a> "Jacopo Ortis," Ugo Foscolo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_179_179" id="Footnote_179_179"></a><a href="#FNanchor_179_179"><span class="label">[179]</span></a> Moore, Letter 166.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_180_180" id="Footnote_180_180"></a><a href="#FNanchor_180_180"><span class="label">[180]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_181_181" id="Footnote_181_181"></a><a href="#FNanchor_181_181"><span class="label">[181]</span></a> Moore, Letters 183 and 184.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_182_182" id="Footnote_182_182"></a><a href="#FNanchor_182_182"><span class="label">[182]</span></a> "Childe Harold," canto iv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_183_183" id="Footnote_183_183"></a><a href="#FNanchor_183_183"><span class="label">[183]</span></a> Letter 312.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_184_184" id="Footnote_184_184"></a><a href="#FNanchor_184_184"><span class="label">[184]</span></a> See his "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_185_185" id="Footnote_185_185"></a><a href="#FNanchor_185_185"><span class="label">[185]</span></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Che giova a te, cor mio, l'esser amato?<br /> +Che giova a me l'aver si cara Amante?<br /> +Se tu, crudo Destine, ne dividi<br /> +Cio che amor ne stringe!"<br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_186_186" id="Footnote_186_186"></a><a href="#FNanchor_186_186"><span class="label">[186]</span></a> Letter 386.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_187_187" id="Footnote_187_187"></a><a href="#FNanchor_187_187"><span class="label">[187]</span></a> Letter 389.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_188_188" id="Footnote_188_188"></a><a href="#FNanchor_188_188"><span class="label">[188]</span></a> It was then that "Sardanapalus" came to light.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_189_189" id="Footnote_189_189"></a><a href="#FNanchor_189_189"><span class="label">[189]</span></a> See chapter on "Life in Ravenna."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_190_190" id="Footnote_190_190"></a><a href="#FNanchor_190_190"><span class="label">[190]</span></a> +</p><p> +"Many small articles make up a sum,<br /> +And hey ho for Caleb Quotem, oh!"<br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_191_191" id="Footnote_191_191"></a><a href="#FNanchor_191_191"><span class="label">[191]</span></a> See Letter 435.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_192_192" id="Footnote_192_192"></a><a href="#FNanchor_192_192"><span class="label">[192]</span></a> Moore, Letter 471.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_193_193" id="Footnote_193_193"></a><a href="#FNanchor_193_193"><span class="label">[193]</span></a> See his "Life at Genoa."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_194_194" id="Footnote_194_194"></a><a href="#FNanchor_194_194"><span class="label">[194]</span></a> See chapter on "Faults."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>LOVE OF TRUTH; OR, CONSCIENCE A CHIEF CHARACTERISTIC OF LORD BYRON.</h3> + + +<p>Some of Lord Byron's biographers, unable to overcome the difficulty of +defining so complete a character, or of explaining, by ordinary rules, +certain contradictions apparent in his rich nature, think to excuse +their own inefficiency and elude the difficulty, by saying that he did +not possess one of those striking points, or decided inclinations, that +constitute a man's moral physiognomy. They pretend that his qualities of +heart and mind, his passions, inclinations, virtues, faults, are so +combined in his ardent, mobile nature, as to make him in reality the +sport of chance; and that no inclination or passion whatsoever could +ever become mistress of his heart or mind, so as to constitute the basis +of a character, and render it possible to define it.</p> + +<p>Moore himself, for reasons I have mentioned,<a name="FNanchor_195_195" id="FNanchor_195_195"></a><a href="#Footnote_195_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a> and which have been +sufficiently spoken of in another chapter, contents himself with saying +that Lord Byron's intellectual and moral attributes were so dazzling, +contradictory, complicated, and varied, beyond all example, that it may +be truly said there was not one man, but several men, in him:—</p> + +<p>"So various, indeed, and contradictory, were his attributes, both moral +and intellectual, that he may be pronounced to have been, not one, but +many; nor would it be any great exaggeration of the truth to say that, +out of the mere partition of the properties of his single mind, a +plurality of characters, all different and all vigorous, might have been +furnished. It was this multiform aspect exhibited by him that led the +world, during his short, wondrous career, to compare him with that +medley host of personages, almost all differing from each other, which +he playfully enumerates in one of his journals."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631">[Pg 631] </a></span></p> + +<p>These observations of Moore's are only true from a certain point of +view—the richness of Lord Byron's nature. But even if this exuberance +of faculties, united in one individual, had not been already in itself a +character, and had not constituted a well-marked distinct personality, +almost unique in kind, Moore would have been at variance with the most +profound moralists, who agree that human nature never has the simplicity +of a geometrical figure, and that, in reality, characters always are +mixed, complicated, composed of opposite elements of incompatible +inclinations and passions. For Moore appears to think that men are +almost always swayed by one chief passion, round which, as round a +pivot, life unrolls itself, just as we see in theatrical pieces. But +even if this system were correct, intimate, as he was with Lord Byron, +and so full of perspicacity, could he not have found, towering above the +rich profusion of qualities in his friend, one dominant passion? Yes, he +ought to have discovered it; but there was a <i>struggle</i> in Moore between +the love of justice and his friendship for Lord Byron on one side, <i>and +the desire, alas! of keeping fair with a host of prejudices</i> arrayed +against Lord Byron on the other; and on the favor of these persons Moore +felt that his own position, or rather his pleasure in society, depended. +The master-passion that occupied so great a place in Lord Byron's mind +was his <i>love of truth, with all the qualities flowing from it</i>.</p> + +<p>It may, perhaps, be said that all beautiful souls love truth more or +less. Yes; but seldom does this quality acquire such complete +development as in Lord Byron. For with him it was a <i>real passion</i>, +since it gave the law, so to say, to his heart, his mind, and all the +actions of his life. This extraordinary attraction, coming in contact +with the lies, hypocrisy, baseness, cowardice, and deceitfulness of +others, often raised indignation to such a pitch that he could not help +showing and expressing it. Thus his love of truth affected his social +status in England, doing him immense harm; and, if it contributed to his +greatness and his heroism, so it likewise added to his sorrows.</p> + +<p>This noble quality showed itself in him, we may say, from his birth, +under the form of <i>sincerity, frankness, a passion for justice, loyalty, +delicacy, honor, and likewise in the shape of special hatred for all +hypocrisy, and for that shade of it peculiar to England, called cant</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_632" id="Page_632">[Pg 632] </a></span></p> + +<p>Amid all the passions and events of life, whatsoever the consequences, +Lord Byron always went straight at truth; as the hero marches up under +fire, or the saint to martyrdom. A lie was not only a lie to him, it was +also an injustice, a cowardice, the mark of a corrupt soul, an +inconceivable thing, and not to be forgiven. A child, at Aberdeen, he +was taken to the play to see one of Shakspeare's pieces, wherein an +actor, showing the sun, says it is the moon. He was a timid child, but +(incapable then of understanding Shakspeare's meaning) this outrage on +truth excited him so far that he rose from his seat and exclaimed, "<i>I +tell you, my dear sir, that it is the sun</i>." With regard to lying, he +remained his whole life the child of Aberdeen.</p> + +<p>Neither his nurses nor preceptors ever surprised him in a lie. +Education, which in England, more than elsewhere, modifies and shapes +men according to the requirements of their social position, had no power +to affect the fundamental part of his nature. While forming his mind, it +did not change his heart. It destroyed some very dear illusions, and +made his soul grow sick with disappointment, so that he never ceased +regretting his happy childhood. In some respects it even had power to +superadd a fictitious character to his real one, but his qualities of +soul and his natural character still remained untouched.</p> + +<p>The ardent affection he entertained for one of the masters at +Harrow—Dr. Drury—made him feel dislike to this gentleman's successor. +Having been asked to dinner by him, Lord Byron declined, because, he +said, that by accepting, <i>he should belie his heart</i>. At the university, +he, like his companions, ran after the young girls of Cambridge and its +environs, but he never seduced or deceived any. Early in life he adopted +the good habit of examining himself most rigidly; and so strict was his +conscience, that, where his companions saw reason to excuse him, he, on +the contrary, found cause for self-reproach.</p> + +<p>It was this same imperious, innate want of his nature, which, combined +with certain circumstances, made him ill <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_633" id="Page_633">[Pg 633] </a></span>for a time. The malady was one +quite foreign to his temperament, springing from self-depreciation, and +because he did not then find sufficient gratification in society. A sort +of misanthropy stole over his soul, chaining him to the East for two +years, as a land where both soul and heart were less tried.</p> + +<p>On his return home, the impressionability belonging to his ardent, +enthusiastic nature may have produced undue excitement, but no bad +feeling could ever dim the lustre of the nobler passion that held sway +over him.</p> + +<p>For him truth was more than a virtue, it was an imperative duty. +Indulgent as he ever showed himself toward all weaknesses in general, +and especially toward the faults committed by his servants, he could not +forgive <i>a lie</i>.</p> + +<p>At Ravenna, a young woman attached to the service of his little Allegra, +being unwilling to avow, for fear of dismissal, that Allegra had had a +fall, though the child bore the mark of it, told an untruth instead. No +intercession could prevail on Lord Byron to pardon her, and she was sent +away.<a name="FNanchor_196_196" id="FNanchor_196_196"></a><a href="#Footnote_196_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a></p> + +<p>Though eager for glory—especially at an age when not having yet arrived +at it, he ignored the bite of the serpent that often lurks within a +garland of roses—he yet repelled all undue praise, and was much more +indignant at receiving it, than when unmerited blame was heaped upon +him. Once, having been compared to a man of high standing in French +literature, he, anxious to prove that there could be no resemblance +between him and this great man, replied:—"If the thing were true, it +might flatter me; but it is impossible to accept fictions with +pleasure."</p> + +<p>When Dallas—who only knew him then by his family name—read his early +productions, he was enchanted with poetry that often rose to the +sublime, and was always chivalrous in feeling, "which denoted," he said, +"a heart full of honorable sentiments, and formed for virtue." This is a +precious verdict, coming as it does, from a man so bigoted in all +respects as the elder Dallas. He adds afterward that the perusal of +these verses, and the sentiments contained in them, made him discover +great affinity of mind between the young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634">[Pg 634] </a></span>author and another literary +man, who was equally remarkable as a poet, an orator, and a +historian—"<i>the great and good Lord Lyttelton of immortal fame</i>." "And +I doubt not," added Dallas, "that one day, like him, he will confer more +honor on the peerage than it can ever reflect on him." Such a compliment +from a man so rigid and respectable might certainly have tempted the +most ordinary self-love, but Lord Byron, applying his magnifying-glass +to his conscience, and comparing what he saw there with his ideal, did +not conceive he merited such praise. Accordingly he answered with candor +that enchanted Dallas himself:—</p> + +<p>"Though our periodical censors have been uncommonly lenient, I confess a +tribute from a man of acknowledged genius is still more flattering. But +I am afraid I should forfeit all claim to candor, if I did not decline +such praise as I do not deserve, and this is, I am sorry to say, the +case in the present instance. My pretensions to virtue are, unluckily, +so few, that, though I should be happy to deserve your praise, I can not +accept your applause in that respect."</p> + +<p>Thus, from fear of being wanting in truth, he exaggerated his youthful +imperfections, nor could find any excuse for them. And in the same way +throughout life his dread of making himself out better than he was, led +him into the opposite defect of representing himself as far inferior to +his real worth.</p> + +<p>If from considering of the man, we turn to look at the author, we shall +still always find the same passion for truth. By degrees, as he observed +society around him, this passion increased, for he found the dominant +vice was precisely that one most repugnant to his nature. If Lord Byron +ever admitted, with La Rochefoucault, <i>that hypocrisy is a homage vice +renders to virtue</i>, he did not the less consider this homage as +degrading to him who offered it, insulting to those to whom it is +addressed, and most corrupting in its effect upon the soul.</p> + +<p>Thus, then, he from an early period considered hypocrisy and cant as +monsters, in the moral world, to be combated energetically whenever an +opportunity should present itself, and he resolved on doing so with all +the intrepidity and independence of which his nature was capable. His +natural gentleness disappeared in presence of the <i>whited sepulchres</i>, +the <i>Pharisees</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_635" id="Page_635">[Pg 635] </a></span> of our day. His whole literary life was one struggle +against this vice, "the crying sin of the times,"<a name="FNanchor_197_197" id="FNanchor_197_197"></a><a href="#Footnote_197_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a> as he called it.</p> + +<p>His conscience was quite as strict with regard to intellectual things as +it was in the domain of morals. We might even call it marvellously +strict for our epoch, for the decay of truth forms a sadly striking +characteristic of the present time. I know not what modern critic it is +who says that a general enervation of intelligence and languor of soul +now prevail in this respect; that the majesty of truth has been +profaned, and the ancient regard in which she was held has been +destroyed by religious sects, philosophical systems, the insolent +attacks of the press, and by the revolution that has taken place in +ideas as well as in deeds. Thence the general tendency to place truth +and error on the same footing, in theory and in practice. Thence the +equality of rights established between both, and which has become like +the normal state of mind general in society.</p> + +<p>Certainly, in our day, the love and practice of truth have grown +obsolete; dramatic pieces and works of fiction, indeed all kinds of +literature, especially biography, and even history, combine to outrage +truth with impunity; no compunction is felt in transforming great +characters into monsters, and monsters into heroes. People are no longer +astonished that travellers' narratives should be like poems, good or +bad, works of imagination full of anachronisms, exaggerations, +impossibilities, making the sea take the place of mountains, and putting +mountains where the sea should be. Truth is hidden as dangerous, not +always to humanity, but to private interests to which it might bring +smaller gains. Now if, at an epoch like this, we meet with geniuses, or +even conscientious talents, sacrificing, both in their works and their +actions, every interest or consideration to truth, ought we not to look +upon them as real marvels? Undoubtedly we ought, and there can be no +question that Lord Byron belonged to the small number of such marvels. +Friends and enemies are agreed thereupon.</p> + +<p>Galt, who was brought into contact with the poet by chance, at the time +of his first journey into Greece, and who travelled with him for several +days, when remarking the beauty of Lord Byron's poems on Greece, says, +"they possess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636">[Pg 636] </a></span> the great and rare quality of being <i>as true with regard +to nature and facts as they are sublime for poetic expression</i>."</p> + +<p>He quotes those beautiful lines with which the third canto of the +"Corsair" opens, wherein Lord Byron describes the lovely scenery that +met his eye on ascending the Piræus;<a name="FNanchor_198_198" id="FNanchor_198_198"></a><a href="#Footnote_198_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a> and to the Cape Colonna, and +to the so-called Tomb of Themistocles in the "Giaour;" and Galt fancies +he can remember by what circumstance and aspect of nature they were +inspired.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron did not admit the possibility of describing a site that had +not been seen, a sentiment that had not been experienced, or at least +well known on certain and direct testimony. Never could people say of +him, what M. Sainte-Beuve asserted of Chateaubriand, namely, <i>that he +had not visited the places he described, that he lent to some what of +right belonged only to others, and that he had not even seen Niagara</i>.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, when Lord Byron was writing, the objects described were +really present, so to say, as facts rather than in imagination.</p> + +<p>Mr. Galt was so persuaded of this that he almost denied him the +possession of imagination, and he says that the stamp of personal +experience is so strongly marked in many of Lord Byron's productions, +usually considered fancies or inventions, that he deems it impossible +not to assign for their basis real facts or events wherein he had been +either actor or spectator.</p> + +<p>To refuse Lord Byron imagination would be absurd; but it is true that +his imagination could only have discovered the elements and materials so +wonderfully put together, through a scrupulous and profound observation +of reality. And it was only afterward, that superadding sentiment and +thought, he wrought out such splendid truths, which, if not precisely +combined in the living reality, were so far superior that any absence in +the original model appeared like a forgetfulness of nature.</p> + +<p>Without, then, admitting Mr. Galt's ideas, in their extreme +consequences, it is at least certain that Lord Byron's genius required +so much to lean on truth in all things, that it may be said he owed far +more to facts than to the power of imagination.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637">[Pg 637] </a></span></p> + +<p>Apart from the faculty of combining, which he possessed in a splendid +manner, if any one should take the trouble to observe, one by one, the +characters he has painted, we should be still more confirmed in the +above opinion. For instance, Conrad, that magnificent type of the +corsair, that energetic compound of an Albanese warrior and a naval +officer, far from being an imaginary character, was entirely drawn from +nature and real history. All who have travelled in the Levant, and +especially at that period, must have met with personages whose +appearance distinctly recalled Conrad.</p> + +<p>That peaceful men, leading a regular monotonous life in the midst of +civilized Europe, or persons who have only travelled over their maps or +their books, quietly seated in their library—that they should find +characters like Conrad's eccentric, and the incidents of such a career +improbable, may easily be conceived; but it is not the less true that +both are in perfect keeping with each other and with truth.</p> + +<p>I might say the same thing of "Childe Harold." But having spoken of this +character sufficiently elsewhere, in order to repel the unjust +identification of the Pilgrim with the author,—for "Childe Harold" +appears to me the personification of a moral idea, of the accidental +transitory state of a soul placed under certain circumstances, rather +than type,—I will only add here, that this unjust identification was +also caused by that craving which Lord Byron experienced of leaning, in +all things, on reality, on facts acquired through his own experience. +For although it is incorrect to imagine that he made use of his +looking-glass for drawing the portraits of his heroes, since the glass +could not even for a passing moment—such as suffices only for a +daguerreotype—have converted his gentle, beautiful expression of face +into the dark countenance of a Harold, a Giaour, a Conrad, or a Lara; +still it is true that he lent them some of his own noble, fine +lineaments, some faint shadow of his beauty, and that more than once he +committed the fault of placing them in situations exactly similar to his +own, even going so far as to install his heroes within the ancient abbey +of Newstead,—a hospitality that cost him dear.</p> + +<p>Characters that had produced a strong impression on him easily became +models for the personages portrayed in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_638" id="Page_638">[Pg 638] </a></span> poems. It was the terrible +Ali Pasha of Yanina who furnished the most striking features depicted in +the heroes of his Eastern poems. The reports current about Ali Pasha's +uncle served to lend their share of truth; and we may say, in general, +that those acquainted with Lord Byron and his history possessed the clew +to his imaginary personages; they could even recognize his Adelinas, +Dudus, Gulbeyazs, Angelinas, Myrrhas, Adahs; and having first taken his +stand on earth, it cost his fancy very little to soar and idealize what +might else have been too commonplace.</p> + +<p>As to the historical characters, we are certain of finding them in the +most authentic histories; for it would be impossible to carry scrupulous +research further than he did. Some observations on "Marino Faliero," his +first historical drama, will suffice for an example.</p> + +<p>The impression made on Lord Byron, when he arrived in Venice, by the +character of this old man, and the terrible catastrophe that overtook +him, first gave rise to his idea of the tragedy. But four years +intervened between the project and its execution. During this time he +consulted all the histories of Venice, every document and chronicle he +could lay his hands on. He passed long hours in the hall of the great +council, opposite the gloomy black veil surmounted by that terrible +inscription—"<i>Hic est locus Marino Faliero decapitati pro criminibus +suis</i>;" on the Giants' staircase, where the Doge had been crowned ere he +was degraded and beheaded; he had interrogated the stones forming the +monuments raised to the Doges; often was he seen in the church of St. +John and St. Paul, seeking out the tomb of Faliero and his family: and +still he was not satisfied, for the motives of the conspiracy did not +yet present themselves so clearly to his mind as the fact of the +conspiracy itself. Then he wrote to Murray, to search him out in England +other <i>more authentic</i> documents concerning this tragical end.</p> + +<p>"I want it," he said to him in February, 1817, "and can not find so good +an account of that business here.... I have searched all their +histories; but the policy of the old aristocracy made their writers +silent on his motives, which were a private grievance against one of the +patricians."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_639" id="Page_639">[Pg 639] </a></span></p><p>And not only did he seek for truth in books and monuments, but he +likewise sought it in the character and manners of all classes +inhabiting the lagoons. It was only toward the close of 1820, at +Ravenna, that he felt ready to write his magnificent drama.</p> + +<p>All the characters in this tragedy, except that admirable one of +Angiolina, which he drew from imagination and traced with his heart, +were supplied by history. In it Lord Byron has scrupulously respected +places, epoch, and the time of duration for the action; points which he +considered as elements of truth in art; in short, all essential +circumstances were faithfully reproduced in his drama.</p> + +<p>Even the faults which critics little versed in psychological science, +and obstinately forgetful that this work was <i>not intended for acting</i>, +pretend to find in it, were but the necessary results of historical +accuracy. These critics wished to meet with the love, jealousy, and +other passions common to their age and country; but Lord Byron would +only give them what he found in history. Thence, no love and no +jealousy; but a proud, violent character, coming in collision with a +government proud and violent as itself; one of those men that are +exceptional but real, in whom extremes of good and evil meet; one of +those dramatic natures that fastened strongly on his imagination, +producing a shock which kindled the flame of genius:—</p> + +<p>"It is now four years that I have meditated this work, and before I had +sufficiently examined the records, I was rather disposed to have made it +turn on a jealousy in Faliero. But perceiving no foundation for this in +historical truth, and aware that jealousy is an exhausted passion in the +drama, I have given it a more historical form."<a name="FNanchor_199_199" id="FNanchor_199_199"></a><a href="#Footnote_199_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a></p> + +<p>As to the motives for the conspiracy, the clearness of certainty only +came to him a year after his drama had been published. But there was +such an attraction between his mind and truth that his intuition had +supplied the want of material certainty. And when a year afterward, at +Ravenna, he received the document so long desired, he was happy in +sending Murray a copy of this document translated from an ancient +chronicle by Sir Francis Palgrave, the learned author of the "History of +the Anglo-Saxons," to be able to write:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_640" id="Page_640">[Pg 640] </a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Inclosed is the best account of the 'Doge Faliero,' which was only sent +to me from an old MS. the other day. Get it translated, and append it as +a note to the next edition. You will perhaps be pleased to see that my +conceptions of his character were correct, though I regret not having +met with this extract before. You will perceive that he himself said +exactly what he is made to say about the Bishop of Treviso. You will +also see that 'he spoke very little,' and these only words of rage and +disdain, after his arrest, which is the case in the play, except when he +breaks out at the close of Act V. But his speech to the conspirators is +better in the MS. than in the play. I wish that I had met with it in +time."</p> + +<p>The historical inaccuracies of authors, their carelessness about truth, +whether the result of malice or inattention, revolted Lord Byron, and +especially if such untruths tended to asperse a great character. The +lies of Dr. Moore about the "Doge Faliero" almost made him angry:—</p> + +<p>"Where did Dr. Moore find that Marino Faliero begged his life? I have +searched the chroniclers, and find nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>Lord Byron observes that this is not only historically, but also +logically false:—</p> + +<p>"His having shown a want of firmness," said Byron, "indeed, would be as +contrary to his character as a soldier, to the age in which he lived, +and at which he died, as it is to the truth of history. I know no +justification; at any distance of time, for calumniating a historical +character: surely truth belongs to the dead, and to the unfortunate; and +they who have died upon a scaffold have generally had faults enough of +their own, without attributing to them those which the very incurring of +the perils which conducted them to their violent death render, of all +others, the most improbable."</p> + +<p>We know his consideration and sympathy for Campbell, though Campbell had +not always behaved well toward him. He forgave him many things, but he +could not pardon the indifference this author often showed for +<i>historical truth</i>!</p> + +<p>At Ravenna he wrote in his journal, on the 10th of January, 1821:—</p> + +<p>"Read Campbell's 'Poets.' Marked errors of Tom (the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_641" id="Page_641">[Pg 641] </a></span> author) for +correction.... Corrected Tom Campbell's 'slips of the pen;' a good work, +though."</p> + +<p>In his appendix to the first canto of "Don Juan," he says, "Being in the +humor of criticism, I shall proceed, after having ventured upon the +slips of Bacon, to wind up on one or two as trifling in the edition of +the 'British Poets,' by the justly celebrated Campbell. But I do this in +good-will, and trust it will be so taken. If any thing could add to my +opinion of the talents and true feeling of that gentleman it would be +his classical, honest, and triumphant defense of Pope against the vulgar +cant of the day, as it exists in Grub Street.</p> + +<p>"The inadvertencies to which I allude are...."</p> + +<p>And after mentioning a few inadvertencies which are faults against +justice and truth, he says:—</p> + +<p>"A great poet quoting another should be correct: he should also be +accurate when he accuses a Parnassian brother of that dangerous charge, +'borrowing:' a poet had better borrow any thing (excepting money) than +the thoughts of another—they are always sure to be reclaimed; but it is +very hard, having been the lender, to be denounced as the debtor, as is +the case of Anstey <i>versus</i> Smollett. As 'there is honor among thieves,' +let there be some among poets, and give each his due—none can afford to +give it more than Mr. Campbell himself, who, with a high reputation for +originality, and a fame which can not be shaken, is the only poet of the +times (except Rogers) who can be reproached (and in him it is indeed a +reproach) with having written too little."</p> + +<p>Hereupon he writes to Murray, half joking, half serious:—</p> + +<p>"Murray, my dear, make my respects to Thomas Campbell, and tell him from +me, with faith and friendship, three things that he must right in his +'Poets.' First, he says Anstey's 'Bath Guide' characters are taken from +Smollett. 'Tis impossible: the 'Guide' was published in 1766, and +'Humphry Clinker' in 1771—<i>dunque</i>, 'tis Smollett who has taken from +Anstey. Secondly, he does not know to whom Cowper alludes when he says +there was one 'who built a church to God, and then blasphemed His name:' +it was 'Deo erexit Voltaire' to whom that mad Calvinist and coddled poet +alludes. Thirdly, he misquotes and spoils a passage from +Shakspeare,—'To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_642" id="Page_642">[Pg 642] </a></span> etc.; for lily +he puts rose, and bedevils in more words than one the whole quotation.</p> + +<p>"Now, Tom is a fine fellow; but he should be correct: for the first is +an injustice (to Anstey), the second an <i>ignorance</i>, and the third a +<i>blunder</i>. Tell him all this, and let him take it in good part: for I +might have chastised him in a review and punished him; instead of which, +I act like a Christian.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right"> +<span class="smcap">Byron.</span>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>With regard to a quotation, or any circumstance intended to prove a +truth, his love of <i>exactness</i> amounted to a <i>scruple</i>. He would have +thought himself wanting in honor if he had made a false or an incomplete +quotation. In one of the notes to "Don Juan," speaking of Voltaire, he +had quoted those famous words:—" <i>Zaïre, vous pleurez</i>;" but being +accustomed at that time to make great use of the familiar pronoun +<i>thou</i>, as in the case in Italy, his quotation ran: "<i>Zaïre, tu +pleures</i>." But he hastened to write to Murray, "<i>Voltaire wrote: Zaïre, +vous pleurez</i>; don't forget."</p> + +<p>In his tragedy of "Faliero," Lord Byron had said that the Doges, +Faliero's predecessors, were buried in the church of St. John and St. +Paul; but he afterward ascertained that it was only on the death of +Andrea Dandolo, Faliero's predecessor, that the Council of Ten, by a +sort of presentiment perhaps, decreed that the Doges should in future be +buried with their families in their own church; previously they had all +been interred in the church of St. Mark:—</p> + +<p>" ... All that I said of his <i>ancestral Doges</i>, as buried at St. John's +and Paul's, is a mistake, <i>they being interred in</i> St. Mark's. Make a +note of this, by the <i>Editor</i>, to rectify the fact.</p> + +<p>"In the notes to 'Marino Faliero,' it may be as well to say that +'<i>Benintende</i>' was not really of the <i>Ten</i>, but merely <i>Grand +Chancellor</i>, a separate office (although important); it was an arbitrary +alteration of mine.</p> + +<p>"As I make such pretentious to accuracy, I should not like to be twitted +even with such trifles on that score. Of the play they may say what they +please, but not so of my costume and <i>dram. pers.</i>,—they having been +real existences."<a name="FNanchor_200_200" id="FNanchor_200_200"></a><a href="#Footnote_200_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_643" id="Page_643">[Pg 643] </a></span></p> + +<p>"As to Sardanapalus," he writes to Murray, "I thought of nothing but +Asiatic history. The Venetian play, too, is rigidly historical. My +object has been to dramatize, like the Greeks (a <i>modest</i> phrase), +striking passages of history.</p> + +<p>"All I ask is a preference for accuracy as relating to Italy and other +places."</p> + +<p>In books, monuments, and the fine arts, it was always <i>truth</i> that +interested him. Except Sir Walter Scott's productions, he gave no place +in his library to novels; other works of imagination, especially poetry, +were excluded; two-thirds of his books were French works. His reading +lay chiefly in history, biography, and politics.</p> + +<p>Among the books Murray sent him were some travels: "Send me no more of +them," he wrote, "I have travelled enough already; and, besides, <i>they +lie</i>."<a name="FNanchor_201_201" id="FNanchor_201_201"></a><a href="#Footnote_201_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a></p> + +<p>Books with effected sentiment of any kind, imaginary itineraries, made +him very impatient. High-sounding phrases jarred on his ears; and I +thoroughly believe that the <i>forty centuries' looking down from the +Pyramids upon the grand French army</i> somewhat <i>spoilt</i> his hero for him.</p> + +<p>What he especially sought for in monuments and among ruins was their +authenticity. It was on this sole condition that he took interest in +them.</p> + +<p>Campbell, in his "Lives of English Poets," had averred that readers +cared no more for the truth of the manners portrayed in Collins's +"Eclogues" than for the authenticity of the history of Troy:—</p> + +<p>"'Tis false," says Lord Byron in his memoranda, after having read +Campbell; "we do care about 'the authenticity of the tale of Troy.' I +have stood upon that plain daily, for more than a month, in 1810; and if +any thing diminished my pleasure, it was that the blackguard Bryant had +impugned its veracity. It is true that I read 'Homer Travestied' (the +first twelve books), because Hobhouse and others bored me with their +learned localities, and I love quizzing. But I still venerated the grand +original as the truth of history (in the material facts) and of place: +otherwise, it would have given me no delight. Who will persuade me, when +I reclined upon a mighty tomb, that it did not contain a hero? Its very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_644" id="Page_644">[Pg 644] </a></span> +magnitude proved this. Men do not labor over the ignoble and petty +dead—and why should not the dead be Homer's dead? The secret of Tom +Campbell's defense of inaccuracy in costume and description is, that his +'Gertrude,' etc., has no more locality in common with Pennsylvania than +with Penmanmawr. It is notoriously full of grossly false scenery, as all +Americans declare, though they praise parts of the poem. It is thus that +self-love forever creeps out, like a snake, to sting any thing which +happens, even accidentally, to stumble upon it."</p> + +<p>In order then, that Lord Byron might take an interest in either a place, +a monument, or a work of art, he must associate them in his mind with +some fact which had really taken place. By what was he most impressed on +reaching Venice?</p> + +<p>"There is still in the Doge's Palace the black veil painted over +Faliero's picture, and the staircase whereon he was first crowned Doge +and subsequently decapitated. This was the thing that most struck my +imagination in Venice—more than the Rialto, which I visited for the +sake of Shylock: and more, too, than Schiller's 'Armenian,' a novel +which took a great hold of me when a boy. It is also called the 'Ghost +Seer,' and I never walked down St. Mark's by moonlight without thinking +of it. And 'at nine o'clock he died.' But I hate things all fiction, and +therefore the <i>Merchant</i> and <i>Othello</i> have no great attractions for me, +but <i>Pierre</i> has. There should always be some foundation of fact for the +most airy fabric, and pure invention is but the talent of a liar."</p> + +<p>The little taste which he entertained for painting came from the +impression that, of all the arts, it was the most artificial, and the +least truthful. In April, 1817, he wrote to Murray as follows, on the +subject:—</p> + +<p>"Depend upon it, of all the arts it is the most artificial and +unnatural, and that by which the folly of mankind is most imposed upon. +I never yet saw the picture or the statue which came a league within my +conception or expectation: but I have seen many mountains, and seas, and +rivers, and views, and two or three women, who went as far beyond it."</p> + +<p>But, then, what enthusiasm, whenever he did meet with truth in art! When +visiting the Manfrini Gallery at Venice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_645" id="Page_645">[Pg 645] </a></span> which is so rich in +<i>chefs-d'œuvre</i>, he admits the charm of painting, and exclaims:—</p> + +<p>"Among them there is a portrait of Ariosto by Titian, surpassing all my +anticipation of the power of painting or human expression; it is the +poetry of portrait and the portrait of poetry. Here was also a portrait +of a lady of the olden times, celebrated for her talents, whose name I +forget, but whose features must always be remembered. I never saw +greater beauty or sweetness, or wisdom; it is the kind of face to go mad +about, because it can not detach itself from its frame."</p> + +<p>Our readers are aware with what obstinate determination the public voice +proclaimed Lord Byron a skeptic, and still does. Nor will we here +examine whether that epithet is merited, because a soul has been +sometimes visited by the malady always more or less afflicting great +minds; we will not ask if disquietude—which constitutes the dignity of +our nature; if the torture caused by doubts and universal uncertainty, +by the impossibility of explaining what is, or of comprehending what +will be, if all this deserve to be called skepticism. It is not +necessary to enter into the subject here, because we have already +examined in another chapter<a name="FNanchor_202_202" id="FNanchor_202_202"></a><a href="#Footnote_202_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a> with what foundation such a name was +applied to Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>Now, we will content ourselves with adding that it was his love of truth +and his delicacy of conscience which caused, in a great measure, what +has been called his skepticism. For these sentiments would not allow him +to affirm things that many others perhaps affirm, without believing more +in them. Moreover, he appears sometimes to have been <i>persuaded that +doubt was the feeling least removed from truth</i>.</p> + + +<h4>THIS QUALITY RISES TO A VIRTUE.</h4> + +<p>If Lord Byron's passion for truth had simply remained within the limits +already described, it would have given earnest of a noble soul, more +gifted than others, with instincts of a higher order; it would have +lighted up his social character, given the charm of that frankness so +delightful in his manners, conversation, style; so attractive in the +expression of his fine countenance; but still it would only have been a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_646" id="Page_646">[Pg 646] </a></span> +natural quality, without any more right to the name of virtue than all +the other beautiful instincts he had received from Heaven; but, when +ceasing to be purely natural, it became a distinguishing characteristic +of the author, then it went far beyond these limits. In his writings it +raised him above all calculations of interest, made him despise all +considerations of ambition or of ease, exposed him to terrible party +warfare, to slander, and revenge; spurred him on to attack the great and +powerful whenever they turned aside from the path of virtue, justice, or +simplicity, and made him forget his nationality, that he might better +remember his humanity.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he never once yielded to any interest; and thus this innate +faculty, which might have been a virtue easily practiced, <i>became one of +heroic merit</i>.</p> + +<p>We may safely assert that all his griefs through life owed their origin +to this rare quality; for perhaps he did not know sufficiently how to +reconcile it with a <i>certain amount</i> of that social virtue called +prudence; whose office it is to keep silence when advisable, and not to +utter dangerous truths.</p> + +<p>Certainly Lord Byron never showed that wisdom for himself which he knew +well how to practice for others; witness his conduct in Greece, where, +according to the account given by all who lived with him there at that +time, he displayed the utmost prudence, moderation, and ability.<a name="FNanchor_203_203" id="FNanchor_203_203"></a><a href="#Footnote_203_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_647" id="Page_647">[Pg 647] </a></span></p> + +<p>That social virtue of prudence, which, to our mind, is somewhat akin to +a defect, was wholly wanting in him in private life; yet it is a +necessary virtue in his country, and especially was so in his day. +England then was, in many respects, far from resembling the England of +our time. Liberty of opinion was certainly guaranteed by law; but then +there were the drawing-room tribunals; very unforgiving with regard to +certain truths, and little disposed to admire that inclination which +prompts superior minds not to conceal their real thoughts. The earth or +the universe might have been conceded as a field open to criticism, he +might express his true opinions on all points, provided only some few +books, and one island, called England, were excepted. Under show of +respect, absolute silence was required on these heads. They constituted +the ark of alliance; to speak ill of them was not permissible, and even +to praise was almost dangerous.</p> + +<p>In the enchanted palace of "Blue beard" one single chamber was reserved; +and woe to him who penetrated therein.</p> + +<p>Since then, a period of peace and prosperity, together with the effects +of time and travel, have greatly improved the noble character of the +English nation. In our day, pens, tongues, and consciences are less +strictly bound, and many truths may now be avowed without fear of +bringing the flush of anger or of indignant modesty to the cheek.</p> + +<p>The present, and, still less, the past, are no more considered as sacred +ground. Even the Norman conquest is no longer a seditious subject. The +dictionary of society has gained many words; and Englishmen no longer +fear to see their children lose that patriotism which for them is almost +a religion, because they read books not deifying their own country and +full of libels on the rest of the globe.</p> + +<p>Historians, novel-writers, poets—even theologians—have vied with each +other in tearing away the bandages concealing many old wounds, in order +to cure them by contact with the vivifying breezes of heaven; and twenty +years after Lord Byron, Macaulay has been able, without losing his +popularity, to show less filial piety than he, and to blame the past in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_648" id="Page_648">[Pg 648] </a></span> +language so beautiful as to obtain forgiveness for the sacrifice even of +truth.</p> + +<p>But, in Lord Byron's time, England was carrying on her great struggle +against the lion of the age. Separated from the Continent by war still +more than by the sea, the cannon's roar booming across the waters added +venom to her wounds, and pride made her prefer to conceal rather than to +heal them.</p> + +<p>The echo of this detested cannon was still sounding when Lord Byron +returned to England, from his travels in the East, with the same thirst +for truth as heretofore, but having gained much from observation, +comparison, and reflection. He believed he had the right to make use of +faculties with equal independence, whether as regarded his own nation or +the rest of humanity. England then seemed to wish to arrogate to herself +the monopoly, of morality, wisdom, and greatness, together with the +right of despising the rest of the world. Lord Byron considered this +pretension as excessive, and he expressed his generous incredulity in +lines proudly independent. He refused to see heroism where he did not +believe it to exist, and would not accord glory to victories that seemed +to him the result of chance. He refused to see virtue and religion in +what he considered calculation or hypocrisy. He demanded <i>justice</i> for +Catholic Ireland, and impartiality for enemies; he even went so far as +to show sympathy for Napoleon and deplore his fall. He could not allow +party spirit to depreciate the genius of Napoleon. Madame de Staël, who +had made Lord Byron's acquaintance in London when he was very young, and +had conceived a great liking for him, often wrote to him, and always +tried to prove that he was wrong in thinking so highly of Napoleon. But +on account of this Lord Byron broke off the correspondence suddenly, +which vexed Madame de Staël not a little. The invasion of France, the +humiliation of a great nation, was painful to him; and this generous +sentiment even caused him to commit a real <i>fault, which he expressed +regret for more than once</i>, says Madame G——, when conversing with her +at Pisa and Genoa. The fault was a certain feeling of hostility indulged +toward the illustrious Duke of Wellington, whom he yet confessed to be +the glory of his country.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_649" id="Page_649">[Pg 649] </a></span></p> + +<p>"P.S.—If you hear any news of battle or retreat on the part of the +Allies (as they call them), pray send it. He has my best wishes to +manure the fields of France with an invading army. I hate invaders of +all countries, and have no patience with the cowardly cry of exultation +over him at whose name you all turned whiter than the snow to which you +are indebted for your triumph."</p> + +<p>He was too generous an enemy to echo the Archbishop of Canterbury's +prayer.<a name="FNanchor_204_204" id="FNanchor_204_204"></a><a href="#Footnote_204_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a></p> + +<p>As a Whig, he was indignant at the Prince of Wales's conduct in +deserting his political banner and passing over to the Tories when he +became regent; so he wrote some hard verses against him,—"Lines to a +Lady weeping," addressed to the Princess Charlotte.</p> + +<p>This poem was the olive-branch that Robert was about to snatch from the +tomb. All evil passions were now let loose against Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>The Tory party—so influential then, and which saw with displeasure the +future promise of a great orator held out in the person of a young Whig +peer—gladly seized a pretext for displaying its hostility. The higher +clergy naturally clung to the interests of the aristocracy, as identical +with their own: moreover, they were vexed with the young lord for +attacking intolerancy, hypocrisy, and similar anti-Christian qualities, +and consequently espoused with ardor Tory grievances. Pretending even to +discover danger to religion in some philosophical verses,<a name="FNanchor_205_205" id="FNanchor_205_205"></a><a href="#Footnote_205_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a> they +denounced the young poet as an <i>atheist</i> and a <i>rebel</i>. At the same time +his admiration for foreign beauties wounded feminine self-love at home.</p> + +<p>In thus placing the interests of truth above every other consideration, +not only from the necessity he experienced of expressing it, but also +with the design of serving justice, Lord Byron by no means ignored the +formidable amount of burning coals he was piling upon his head. He knew +well that the secret war going on against him delighted all his rivals, +who, not having dared to show their spite at the time of his triumphs, +had bided patiently the day of vengeance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_650" id="Page_650">[Pg 650] </a></span></p> + +<p>He was aware of it all, but did not therefore draw back; and looking +fearlessly at the pile heaped with all these combustible materials +intended for his martyrdom, he did not any the more cease from his work. +He resisted, and accepted martyrdom like a <i>hero</i>.</p> + +<p>"You can have no conception of the uproar the eight lines on the little +Royalty's weeping in 1812 (now republished) have occasioned.... The +'Morning Post,' 'Sun,' 'Herald,' 'Courier,' have all been in +hysterics.... I am an atheist, a rebel, and at last the devil +(<i>boiteux</i>, I presume). My demonism seems to be a female's +conjecture.... The abuse against me in all directions is vehement, +unceasing, loud."<a name="FNanchor_206_206" id="FNanchor_206_206"></a><a href="#Footnote_206_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a></p> + +<p>The editor, alarmed, proposed to have them disavowed.</p> + +<p>"Take any course you please to vindicate yourself," Lord Byron answered +him; "but leave me to fight my own way, and, as I before said, do not +<i>compromise</i> me by any thing which may look like <i>shrinking</i> on my part; +as for your own, make the best of it.... I have already done all in my +power by the suppression" (of the satire). "If that is not enough, they +must act as they please; but I will not 'teach my tongue a most inherent +baseness,' come what may.... I shall bear what I can, and what I can not +I shall resist. The worst they could do would be to exclude me from +society. I have never courted it, nor, I may add, in the general sense +of the word, enjoyed it; and there is a world elsewhere!</p> + +<p>"Any thing remarkably injurious I have the same means of repaying as +other men, with such interest as circumstances may annex to it."</p> + +<p>After this first great explosion, of which the verses addressed to the +Princess Charlotte had formed the occasion and the pretext, the +commotion appeared to subside. But the fire in the mine had not gone +out. It still circulated obscurely, gathering strength in the quiet +darkness. Another occasion was alone wanting for a second explosion, and +a hand to strike the spark. The circumstance of his unhappy marriage, +which had taken place in the interval, presented this occasion; and the +hand to strike the spark was the one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_651" id="Page_651">[Pg 651] </a></span>which had received the nuptial +ring a year before. The explosion was brutal, abominable, +insensate—unworthy of the society that tolerated it.</p> + +<p>Then came another interval; the good who had been drawn into this stormy +current were seized with regret and remorse. "<i>Why did we thus rise +against our spoilt and favorite child?</i>" The wicked knew well wherefore +they had done it, but the good did not. Macaulay told it them one day, +twenty years afterward, better than any one else has, in one of those +passages where the beauty of his style, far from injuring truth, lends +it a double charm, enhancing it just as nature's beauty is set off by a +profusion of light.</p> + +<p>This good feeling stealing over the public conscience alarmed Lord +Byron's deadly enemies. They feared lest sentimental remorse should +compromise their victory; and they manœuvred so well, that from that +hour persecution took up permanent abode in England, under pretext of +offense to religion or morals. It followed him on his heroic journey +into Greece, and ceased not with his death. Even after that, the +vengeance and rage of his enemies—the indiscretion and timidity of +friends—the material or moral speculations of all, together with the +assurance of impunity—continued to feed the fire which an end so +glorious as his ought to have quenched.<a name="FNanchor_207_207" id="FNanchor_207_207"></a><a href="#Footnote_207_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_652" id="Page_652">[Pg 652] </a></span></p> + +<p>But if the war against him did not cease, his perseverance and courage +in saying what he thought did not cease either. Who more than he +despised popularity and literary success, if they were to be purchased +at the cost of truth?</p> + +<p>"Were I alone against the world," said he, "I would not exchange my +freedom of thought for a throne." And again: "He who wishes not to be a +despot, or a slave, may speak freely."</p> + +<p>That such independence of mind, aided by such high genius, should have +alarmed certain coteries—not to speak of certain political and +religious sets, who were all powerful—may easily be conceived. We can +not feel surprise at the scandals they got up in defense of their +privileges, when attacked by a new power who made every species of +baseness and hypocrisy tremble; nor can we wonder that, unknowing where +it would stop, they should have sought to cast discredit on the oracle +by slandering the man. That the bark bearing him to exile should have +been pushed on by a wind of angry passions in coalition—by a breeze not +winged by conscience—may also be conceived; but to <i>conceive</i> is not to +absolve, and in using the above expression we only mean to allow due +share to human nature in general—to the character, manners, and perhaps +to the special requirements of England. And if we ought not to condone +party spirit in politics, defending privileges to the death; nor the +anti-Christian ferocity displayed by that portion of the clergy who, +without reason or sincerity, attacked him from the pulpit; nor yet the +malice and revenge displayed in the vile slanders that pursued him to +his last hour; we can, on the other hand, comprehend, and even, up to a +certain point, excuse this prosperous and noble country of England for +not classing her great son among popular poets—for hiding her +admiration cautiously: since it must be acknowledged that Lord Byron +often acted and wrote rather <i>as belonging to humanity, than merely as +belonging to England</i>.</p> + +<p>But if he were treated with the same injustice by foreigners, could the +same excuse be made for them? Would a man be excusable if laziness and +carelessness made him accept, without examination, some type set up for +Lord Byron by a country wounded in her self-love, as England had been,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_653" id="Page_653">[Pg 653] </a></span> +or the reserves made by hostile biographers, under the weighty influence +of a society organized as English society then was? The vile system +which consists in seeking to give a good opinion of one's own morality +by being severe on the morality of others, is only too well known. Would +it be excusable to apply it ruthlessly to Lord Byron?—to pretend to +repeat that in attacking prejudice he wounded morals?—that he injured +virtue by warring against hypocrisy?—that by using a right inherent to +the human mind in some hypothetical lines of a poem, written at +twenty-one years of age, and which is beyond the comprehension of the +multitude, since the greater number of mankind neither read elevated +poetry nor works of high taste; is it not absurd to pretend that he +wished to upset them in their religious belief, and deprive them of +truths which are at once their consolation, support, and refuge in time +of sorrow and suffering?</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, <i>Frenchmen</i> have spoken thus; and in this way, through +these united causes, Lord Byron has remained <i>unappreciated</i> as a man +and unfairly judged as a poet.</p> + +<p>One calls him <i>the poet of evil</i>; another <i>the bard of sorrow</i>. But no! +Lord Byron was not exclusively either one or the other. He was <i>the poet +of the soul</i>, just as Shakspeare was before him.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron, in writing, never had in view virtue rather than vice. To +take his stand as a teacher of humanity, at his age, would have seemed +ridiculous to him. After having chosen subjects in harmony with his +genius, and a point of view favorable to his poetic temperament, which +especially required to throw off the yoke of artificial passions and of +weak, frivolous sentiments, what he really endeavored was to be +powerfully and energetically true. He thought that truth <i>ought</i> always +to have precedence over every thing else—that it was the source of the +<i>beautiful</i> in art, as well as of all <i>good</i> in souls. To him lies were +<i>evil</i> and <i>vice</i>; truth was <i>good</i> and <i>virtue</i>. As a poet, then, he +was the bard of the soul and of truth; and as a man, all those who knew +him, and all who read his works, must proclaim him the poet who has come +nearest to the ideal of truth and sincerity.</p> + +<p>And now, after having studied this great soul under every <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_654" id="Page_654">[Pg 654] </a></span>aspect, if +there were in happy England men who should esteem themselves higher in +the scale of virtue than Lord Byron, because having never been troubled +in their belief, either through circumstances or the nature of their own +mind, they <i>never admitted or expressed any doubt</i>; because they are the +happy husbands of those charming, indulgent, admirable women to be found +in England, who <i>love and forgive so much</i>; because, being rich, they +have not refused <i>some trifle</i> out of their superfluity to the poor; +because, proud and happy in privileges bestowed by their constitution, +they have never <i>blamed those in power</i>: if these prosperous ones deemed +themselves superior to their great fellow-citizen, would it be illiberal +in them to express now a different opinion? Might we not without +rashness affirm, that they should rather hold themselves honored in the +virtue and glory of their illustrious countryman, humbly acknowledging +that their own greater happiness is not the work of their own hands?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_655" id="Page_655">[Pg 655] </a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_195_195" id="Footnote_195_195"></a><a href="#FNanchor_195_195"><span class="label">[195]</span></a> See Introduction.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_196_196" id="Footnote_196_196"></a><a href="#FNanchor_196_196"><span class="label">[196]</span></a> See "Life in Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_197_197" id="Footnote_197_197"></a><a href="#FNanchor_197_197"><span class="label">[197]</span></a> Preface to canto xi. of "Don Juan."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_198_198" id="Footnote_198_198"></a><a href="#FNanchor_198_198"><span class="label">[198]</span></a> +</p><p>"Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * *</span><br /> +Not as in northern climes." "<i>Corsair</i>," canto iii.<br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_199_199" id="Footnote_199_199"></a><a href="#FNanchor_199_199"><span class="label">[199]</span></a> See Preface to Marino Faliero.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_200_200" id="Footnote_200_200"></a><a href="#FNanchor_200_200"><span class="label">[200]</span></a> Moore, Letter 391.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_201_201" id="Footnote_201_201"></a><a href="#FNanchor_201_201"><span class="label">[201]</span></a> Letter 391.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_202_202" id="Footnote_202_202"></a><a href="#FNanchor_202_202"><span class="label">[202]</span></a> See chapter on "Religion."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_203_203" id="Footnote_203_203"></a><a href="#FNanchor_203_203"><span class="label">[203]</span></a> M. Tricoupi, in his interesting "History of the Greek +Revolution," ends his fine article upon Lord Byron, and upon his death, +in the following words:— +</p><p> +"This man's great name, his noble struggle in the midst of misfortunes, +the troubles which he had borne for the sake of Greece, the bright hopes +which he was on the point of seeing realized, proved sufficiently what +the Greeks lost in losing him, and the misfortune which his death was to +them. Each one considered and mourned his loss as a private and as a +public calamity. In ordering the funeral, the governor of the town +exclaimed, 'This time the beautiful Easter rejoicings have turned for us +into hours of bitterness,' and he was right. All forgot Easter in +presence of the blow which was dealt them by the loss of such a man. +</p><p> +"Byron, as a poet, was enthusiastic, but his enthusiasm, like his +poetry, was deep; his policy in Greece was likewise intelligent and +profound. No dreams like those formed by most of the lovers of the +Greeks. No Utopian plans, democratic or anti-democratic. Even the press +appeared to him as yet uncalled-for. The independence of Greece, that +was the essential point at issue, and to obtain this end he counselled +the Greeks to be united among themselves, and to respect foreign courts. +His principal care was the organization of the army, and the procuring +of the funds necessary to maintain it. He loved glory, but only that +which is solid. He refused to take the title of Commander-general of +Continental Greece, which the Government and the nation offered him in +common accord. He hated politics as a rule, and avoided parliamentary +discussions even in his own country...."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_204_204" id="Footnote_204_204"></a><a href="#FNanchor_204_204"><span class="label">[204]</span></a> This strange prayer ran thus:—"O Lord Almighty, give us +strength to destroy the last man of that perfidious nation (the French), +which has sworn to devour alive thy faithful servants (the English)."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_205_205" id="Footnote_205_205"></a><a href="#FNanchor_205_205"><span class="label">[205]</span></a> Stanzas of second canto of "Childe Harold."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_206_206" id="Footnote_206_206"></a><a href="#FNanchor_206_206"><span class="label">[206]</span></a> Moore, Letter 162.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_207_207" id="Footnote_207_207"></a><a href="#FNanchor_207_207"><span class="label">[207]</span></a> The system of depreciating Byron's acts never once +ceased. It followed him to Greece and even to the tomb. Count Gamba, his +friend and companion, in speaking of the excellent health enjoyed by all +during the passage from Genoa to Greece, says:— +</p><p> +"We were in excellent health and spirits during our whole voyage from +Italy to Greece, and for this we were partly indebted to our medical +man, and partly to that temperance which was observed by every one on +board, except at the beginning of the voyage by the captain of our +vessel, who, however, ended by adopting our mode of life. I mention this +to contradict an idle story told in a magazine ('The London') 'that Lord +Byron on this voyage passed the principal part of the day drinking with +the captain of the ship.' Lord Byron, as we all did, passed his time +chiefly reading. He dined alone on deck; and sometimes in the evening he +sat down with us to a glass or two, not more, of light Asti wine. He +amused himself in jesting occasionally with the captain, whom he ended, +however, by inspiring with a love of reading, such as he thought he had +never felt before." +</p><p> +But his enemies were not discouraged. When they saw that Byron landed in +one of the Ionian Islands, which was a far wiser and more prudent course +to adopt, and one which might prove infinitely more beneficial to Greece +than going straight to the Morea, they spread the report that instead of +going to Greece, he spent his life in debauchery and in the continuation +of his poem of "Don Juan," at rest in a lovely villa situated on one of +the islands. Moore informed him rather abruptly of this report, which +distressed him greatly.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REFLECTIONS_UPON_MR_DISRAELIS_NOVEL" id="REFLECTIONS_UPON_MR_DISRAELIS_NOVEL"></a>REFLECTIONS UPON MR. DISRAELI'S NOVEL</h2> + +<h3>"VENETIA:"</h3> + +<h4>A SEMI-BIOGRAPHY OF LORD BYRON.</h4> + + +<p>Is Mr. Disraeli to be classed among the biographers of Lord Byron +because in his preface to "Venetia" he declares that his object is to +portray Lord Byron? We do not think so. Truth and error, romance and +history, are too much intermixed, and the author himself confesses this +fact in calling his work a novel. But while denying to "Venetia" the +right of being styled a biography, we must admit that it is both a deep, +true, and at times admirable study of the fine and so ill-judged +character of Lord Byron. The extraordinary qualities with which he was +gifted, both in heart and in mind, his genius, his amiability, his +irresistible attractions, his almost supernatural beauty, are all set +forth with consummate ability, and the greatest penetration. He has made +all his other characters, which are for the most part imaginary, +subservient to this end; and he has created some (such as Lady Annabel) +which moralists will not easily admit to be possible, it being granted +that all the characters in the book are mentally sane. It is +questionable whether the virtues and qualities which adorn Lady Annabel +are compatible with the defects of her nature. Mr. Disraeli has acted in +the same way as regards the circumstances of Byron's life; he has heaped +them together without any regard to what may or may not be true in their +supposed occurrence, some of them being founded on reality and others +not so.</p> + +<p>He has given Byron two individualities. Lord Cadurcis represents Byron +from his infancy to the time of his marriage, and Mr. Herbert equally +represents Lord Byron from that fatal epoch till his death. The +selection of two persons to represent one same character and to allow of +Byron's simple<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_656" id="Page_656">[Pg 656] </a></span> yet complex nature being better understood was a very +happy philosophical notion.</p> + +<p>He portrays Lord Byron as he was, or as he would have been in the given +circumstances; and he pictures the others as they should or might have +been, not as they were. In reading "Venetia" it is impossible not to +like Lord Cadurcis, and to admire him, just as all those who knew Lord +Byron loved and esteemed him, or not to respect Mr. Herbert, whom he +styles "the best and greatest of men," as he would have been revered had +Byron reached a greater age. He depicts Byron at every epoch of his +life, and as circumstances develop his latent predispositions.</p> + +<p>He first shows him to us as the innocent child, whose heart is full of +tenderness, meekness, sensibility, and docility, such as his tutor, Dr. +Drury, said he was: "rather easier to be led with a silken string than +with a cable;" who is gifted with a noble and proud nature, which is +easily moved; who possesses a great sense of justice and an undaunted +courage; who scorns excuse and cares not to lessen his fault. He then +shows him as the thoughtful boy, both when alone and with others; and as +the gayest and wildest of creatures when in the company of the beloved +companion of his childish sports; a boy full of kindness, and of the +desire to please; whose absence is ever a subject of regret, so great is +the love he inspires, both in his master and in his servants, and indeed +in all who come near him. At his early age can already be traced the +germs of those qualities which foretell that brilliant mind which is to +win some day the heart of a nation, and dazzle the fancy of a world of +admirers. The sight of the fair hair and of the angelic beauty of the +little Venetia is enough to dry his tears; and herein we not only +perceive already the extreme impressionable disposition of his nature, +but also the power and influence which beauty is destined to exercise +over him. The love of solitude and meditation is already traceable in +the child. He loves to wander at night among the dark and solitary +cloisters of his Abbey; he loves to listen to the whistling of the wind +re-echoed by the cloisters; he delights in the murmurs of the waters of +his lake when the winter storms disturb their serenity, and uproot the +strongest oaks of his park. Proud of his race, his whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_657" id="Page_657">[Pg 657] </a></span> nature +sympathizes with the glorious deeds of his ancestors, and one feels that +he would fain rather die than show himself unworthy of them.</p> + +<p>One sees the germs of poetry sown in his mind—but one feels that the +heart alone can make them fructify, and give them an outward form. +Nothing is more touching than the tenderness which he feels and inspires +wherever he goes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Disraeli then shows him in his youth, just at the time when he is to +leave college for the university, and presents him to the reader as a +remarkably well-educated young man, in whom the best principles have +been inculcated, and whose conduct and conversation bear evidence of a +pure, generous, and energetic soul "that has acquired at a very early +age much of the mature and fixed character of manhood without losing any +thing of that boyish sincerity and simplicity that are too often the +penalty of experience.</p> + +<p>"He was indeed sincerely religious, and as he knelt in the old chapel +that had been the hallowed scene of his boyish devotions, he offered his +ardent thanksgiving to his Creator who had mercifully kept his soul pure +and true, and allowed him, after so long an estrangement from the sweet +spot of his childhood, once more to mingle his supplications with his +kind and virtuous friends."</p> + +<p>"He is what I always hoped he would be," says Lady Annabel. "Remember +what a change his life had to endure; few, after such an interval, would +have returned with feelings so kind and so pure. I always fancied that I +observed in him the seeds of great virtues and great talents, but I was +not so sanguine that they would have flourished as they appear to have +done."</p> + +<p>Young as he is, he is already accustomed to reflect; and the result of +his dreams is a desire to live away from the world with those he loves. +The world as seen by others has no attraction for him. What the world +covets appears to him paltry and faint. He sympathizes with great deeds, +but not with a boisterous existence. He cares not for that which is +ordinary. He loves what is rare and out of the common way. He dwells +upon the deeds of his ancestors in Palestine and in France, who have +left a memorable name in the annals of their country. Cadurcis +experiences inwardly a desire,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_658" id="Page_658">[Pg 658] </a></span> and even the power to imitate their +example. He feels that to become the world's wonder no sacrifice is +great enough; but in this age of mechanism, what career is left to a +chivalrous spirit like his? He then longs for the happiness of private +life in the company of so perfect a creature as Venetia; but he is still +so young, and Venetia, who loves him like a brother and a friend, can +not as yet understand the nature of another kind of love. He then leaves +for the university, with grief implanted at the bottom of his heart. +Disraeli then shows how, after three years, during which time his genius +had been smouldering as it were, it at last appeared in a splendor quite +unrivalled and unexampled, like a star equally strange and brilliant, +which scarcely has it become visible in the horizon, than it already +reaches its zenith. Not only is he distinguished by his writings, but by +a thousand other ways, which fill the heart and dazzle the eyes. Where +every thing is remarkable he is most noticed; and the most conspicuous +where all is brilliant. He is envied by men, praised and sought after by +women, admired by all. His life has become a perpetual triumph, a +splendid act, which is enthusiastically applauded, and in which he ever +plays the best and most heroic part. In the midst of this infatuation of +a whole nation, among those handsome and noble women who forget +themselves too much since they forget themselves entirely for the honor +of a look from him, why is he not happy? What is he craving for? What is +his occupation? Why, when envied by all, is he yet to be pitied? It is +that his life is still, and will ever be, the life of the heart which +finds no satisfaction to its desire in the midst of the world wherein it +is doomed to live.</p> + +<p>On one occasion he finds himself at the house of the most fashionable +woman in London, of the great and beautiful person whose love for him is +greater than he would wish. Many people are assembled there; dinner is +about to be announced. No one but himself attracts attention or calls +for enthusiastic eulogies; yet he is sad, absent, wearied. By his proud, +handsome looks, his reserve, and his melancholy attitude, he might be +taken for an unearthly being, condemned, as a punishment, to visit our +terrestrial orb. All of a sudden his melancholy gives way to the +liveliest animation; his cheeks glow, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_659" id="Page_659">[Pg 659] </a></span> happiness beams in his +beautiful eyes. What has happened? Among the guests arriving he has +heard the servant call out the name of his old tutor at Cherbury, the +friend of all the friends of his youth. Raised to the dignity of a +bishop, the late tutor has arrived in London to take his seat in the +House of Lords. Again to see this friend of his youth, who is likely to +speak to him of Cherbury, which he loved so dearly, and of Venetia, is a +pleasure which his triumphs have never afforded him; and from that +moment all is changed in his eyes, every thing is smiling, every thing +is bright.</p> + +<p>He learns that Lady Annabel and Venetia have left their retreat of +Cherbury and have arrived in London. Cadurcis has but one thought, one +aspiration, that of seeing them again. He does see Venetia again, and he +feels that the world's praises are no longer any thing to him, except to +be placed at her feet, and that he would give up all the idolatry of +which he is the object for one year of happiness spent at Cherbury. When +Venetia sees her ideal realized, and that Lord Cadurcis unites in him +all the qualities of her dear Plantagenet with those brilliant and +imposing talents which command love and admiration; when she beholds in +him the genius of her father linked with the heart of her earliest +friend, to whom she is still so deeply attached; when she sees her dear +Plantagenet "courted, considered, crowned, incensed—in fact, a great +man" living in an atmosphere of glory and in the midst of the applause +of his contemporaries, Venetia exchanges her fraternal love, which was +so touching, for the most ardent passion which one perfect creature can +inspire in one as perfect as itself.</p> + +<p>But the obstacle to their happiness now arises, and Lady Annabel it is +who becomes metamorphosed into a woman whose judgment is false, whose +prejudices are great, whose principles are inexorable; who knows nothing +of the world, nothing of her own heart nor of the human heart; who +judges all things by certain arbitrary rules, and acts sternly in +accordance with her inexplicable judgment. All the love which she would +have had for Plantagenet at Cherbury is turned into hatred on learning +that he has become a great poet, the admiration of his country, the +observed of all observers; that all the world is anxious to see him, +that the finest ladies sigh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_660" id="Page_660">[Pg 660] </a></span> for one of his looks, that he is not +insensible to their admiration, that he is a Whig, and not only a Whig, +but very nearly a rebel. She reads his poems, and her astonishment is +only surpassed by the horror with which they inspire her. She sees +Herbert in Cadurcis, and unable as she was to understand the former, so +is she unequal to the task of comprehending Cadurcis. An imaginative +being makes her tremble; such a creature can only be a monster. The +praises bestowed upon Cadurcis do not shake her prejudices. His cousin, +a brave sailor—a Tory, whose nature is as noble as it is frank and +loyal—in vain tells her that Cadurcis is one of the most generous, most +amiable, and most praiseworthy of men. In vain does he assure her that +notwithstanding the difference of their political opinions, he can +scarcely give her an idea of the delicacy and unbounded goodness which +he has shown—that his heart is perfect, that his intellect is the +finest that ever existed, and that if his conduct has at times been a +little irregular, allowances must be made for the temptations which +assailed him at the age of twenty-one, the sole master of his acts, and +with all London at his feet. "It is too much for any one's head; but say +or think what the world may, I know there is not a finer creature in +existence. Venetia, who feels the truth of all this, inwardly exclaims, +'Dear, dear Cadurcis, can one be surprised at your being beloved when +you are so generous, so amiable, so noble, so affectionate!' But the +poor child in vain recalls to her mother the conduct of Plantagenet, who +displays constancy in his true affections. 'No,' exclaims Lady Annabel, +'minds like his have no heart, a different impulse directs their +existence—I mean imagination.'"</p> + +<p>Lady Annabel tortures her daughter, to extort from her the promise that +she will never marry Lord Cadurcis. Her devotion for that daughter, +which seemed to be the essence of her life, is no longer in this +hard-hearted woman but a form of her egotism; and Venetia, vexed in all +her natural sentiments, instead of being the idol of her affections, +becomes in reality the martyr of her pride.</p> + +<p>After dwelling upon the agony of mind experienced by these two beautiful +and loving souls, both victims of Lady Annabel's cruelty, Disraeli shows +us Cadurcis a prey to despair; enduring the consequences of the +fashionable life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_661" id="Page_661">[Pg 661] </a></span> which he is compelled to lead, that is, of the +dissipated existence which he wades through against his will; the +victim, besides, of the jealous and fanatical love of the great lady +whose yoke he had not been able as yet to shake off. A duel between him +and the lady's husband is the result, and nothing is more admirable than +the picture of Lord Byron (or Lord Cadurcis) in all the scenes which +precede and follow this duel; his calmness, his courage, the mixture of +humor and wit with which he ever was wont to meet the greatest perils, +and which was one of the characteristics of his nature, and, above all, +that great and noble generosity of which he gave so many proofs in every +circumstance and at every period of his life. Then followed the +consequences of the duel, and the capital derived from it by the +accumulated stupidity and revenge of those inferior persons jealous of +his superiority and of his popular fame.</p> + +<p>Nothing is so beautiful, however, as the scene which takes place first +at the club and then at the House of Lords, where Mr. Disraeli shows +this noble and calumniated creature the object of the base and +hypocritical jealousy of most of his colleagues, who, notwithstanding +their hatred for him, were wont to call themselves his friends; when, +exhausted and almost the victim of a ferocious hatred of an excited +populace, he stands calm in the midst of these truly English elements in +the attitude of an archangel or of a demi-god, opposing them and +maintaining his ground until with the aid of a few brave and faithful +friends, of the constable's truncheon, and the arrival of the mounted +guard, he succeeds in getting rid of them altogether. All this, although +not quite true, either as a historical fact or in its details, is, +however, so admirably told, that it may be taken as a document well +worthy of consideration by the biographer, and of which extracts can not +be given without spoiling the whole.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the turmoil occasioned by this duel, in which his +adversary had been seriously wounded, Cadurcis suddenly finds himself +abandoned by those who called themselves his friends, calumniated by the +press, who spare no falsehoods to disparage his character, but whose +contradictions have no effect in his great successes. Cadurcis, gifted +as he is with an extreme sensibility, and accustomed to live<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_662" id="Page_662">[Pg 662] </a></span> in an +atmosphere of praise, finds himself suddenly nailed to the pillory of +public indignation, sees his writings, his habits, his character, and +his person, equally censured, ridiculed, and blemished; in fact, he +finds himself the victim of reaction, and yet all this does not affect +his mind; his true agony is caused not by the regret at losing his +prestige and his popularity, nor by the conduct of those who style +themselves his friends, and who now joined his enemies in spreading and +believing in the false reports respecting him. His greatness of soul and +the purity of his conscience alike help him to endure these misfortunes; +but what really does give him pain, is the thought that all these absurd +rumors will reach the ears of Venetia. He has lost all hope of obtaining +her hand, but he feels the want of her esteem. He wishes her to judge +him as he deserves to be judged; and the thought that she likewise may +put faith in the infamous and stupid reports which are spread about him, +throws him into despair. When his cousin announces to him that he has +succeeded in making the truth known to Venetia, how consoled he feels, +and how grateful is he to his cousin! To his credit, the cousin did +actually, in presence of Lady Annabel, who remained incredulous, +endeavor to re-establish facts in their true light; and despite her +sullen mood, did he courageously undertake the defense of Cadurcis, +accuse the Mounteagles and the world in general, and conclude by +declaring that "Cadurcis was the best creature that ever existed, the +most unfortunate, the most ill-treated; and that if one should be liable +to be pursued for such an affair, over which Cadurcis could have no +control, there was not a man in London who could be sheltered from it +for ten minutes." When Lord Cadurcis receives Venetia's message, which +is to tell him that he remains for her what he has ever been, the +announcement acts upon him as a charm, brings calm back to his mind, and +renders him indifferent for the future to the opinion of the world. The +experience of that day has entirely cured him of his former deference +for the opinion of society. The world has outraged him. He no longer +owes any thing to the world. His reception in the House of Lords, and +the riot outside the house, have severed his ties with all classes, from +the highest <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_663" id="Page_663">[Pg 663] </a></span>to the lowest; his grateful heart will ever preserve the +remembrance of those who have shown him true affection by displaying +moral courage in his defense. But they are few,—some relations, or +nearly such by their association with them, and for these his gratitude +and his respect are unlimited; but as for the others, he will pay them +back by showing them his contempt, by publishing the truth respecting +them, their country, their habits, their laws, their customs, their +opinions, in order that they may be known and judged by the whole +world,—a tribunal far more enlightened than the limited one of his +native isle. Henceforth he resolves never again to meet the advances of +those civilized "ruffians" who affect to be sociable. He prepares to +leave England, with the intention never again to return to it. He shuts +himself up in his room for a week, and allowing free scope to his +passionate and wounded soul, he writes his adieu to England, and in the +task his mind finds relief. In this poem, wherein a few well-merited +sarcasms find a place, and wherein there are many allusions to Venetia, +there are passages so delicate, so tender, so irresistibly pathetic, +that it exercised an extraordinary influence upon public opinion. Again +the tide of public sympathy runs high in his favor; it is found that +Cadurcis is the most calumniated of mortals, that he is more interesting +than ever; and Lady Mounteagle is spoken of as she deserves. Cadurcis +is, however, too proud to accept new sympathies likely to make him +suffer all that he has already suffered. He quits his native land, +surrounded by a halo of glory, but with contempt on his part for that +popular favor of which he has too cruelly experienced the worth. He +sails for Greece, and here Disraeli shows how he led a life of study, +and finally depicts him, under the name of Herbert, as a philosopher and +a virtuous man, who, after behaving as a hero, and after abandoning some +of the illusions of youth, and principally that of making men wiser and +better, aspires only at leading a mild, regular, virtuous, and +philosophical existence.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the great charm of Mr. Disraeli's book, to give extracts +from which would only be to spoil it, it must, however, be allowed that +the real and the imaginary are too much intermingled. All the fictions +of time and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_664" id="Page_664">[Pg 664] </a></span>place, which only leave the sentiments of the real man +untouched, all the double and treble characters which at times quit, and +at others resume, their individuality almost as in a dream, tend to +create a confusion which is prejudicial to truth. Thus, Lady Annabel has +charms and qualities wholly incompatible with her supposed stern +severity. Miss Venetia, a perfect emanation of love and beauty, is at +times transformed into an imaginary Miss Chaworth, and at others into a +beloved sister, and at others again into an adorable Ada——; Lady +Mounteagle is sometimes too like, and often too unlike, the real Lady C. +L——; the whole is confused, fatiguing to the mind, and too fictitious +not to be regretted, since the express intention of the author is to +paint a historical character, acting in the midst of circumstances +generally founded on reality.</p> + +<p>In following out the intention of the author, and his want of respect +for truth, it is impossible not to ask ourselves why, while respecting +circumstances of such slight import as the preservation of the Christian +names of the mother and wife, he has not done the same for more +important accidents in the hero's life? Why, for instance, have +described his childhood as a painful time? Was not Lord Byron surrounded +with the tenderest cares while in Scotland? Had he been unhappy there, +would he have transmitted to us in such happy lines his remembrance of +the time which he spent in the North? Is it not in Scotland that his +heart was nursed with every affection, that his mind drank in the +essence of poetry? Why make his mother die when he was only twelve years +of age, since she died only on his return from Spain and from Greece, +that is, when he was twenty-two? Why make her die of grief at being +abandoned by him, in consequence of an imaginary scene which obliges her +to take refuge in the midst of a band of Bohemian travellers, when it is +known that she died rather by the excess of joy which she experienced at +the thought of seeing him again after an absence of nearly two years? +Why change the ages, and give Miss Chaworth fifteen when she was +eighteen, or himself eighteen when he was fifteen? Why give him such an +affectionate guardian instead of Lord Carlisle? It may be argued that in +these changes in the actual life of Lord Byron, we must only perceive +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_665" id="Page_665">[Pg 665] </a></span>the genius of the writer, who by making the hero's infancy a sad one, +and causing the first glimpse of happiness to dawn upon him at Cherbury, +in depriving him of his mother at an early age in order that he may live +entirely in the Herbert family, where he finds so much happiness, and +repays it so well, Mr. Disraeli believed that he could bring out in +better relief all the tenderness, kindness, docility, gratitude, +constancy, and those other rare and splendid qualities of his hero's +young soul. In reducing Miss Herbert's years, and in increasing those of +his hero, the author no doubt wished to render forcible the sentiments +which a child of fifteen could not otherwise have inspired in a young +girl of eighteen. The imaginary duel was probably conceived to afford +the author an opportunity of showing his hero under other admirable +aspects, and especially to furnish him with the means of casting blame +upon English society, of absolving him, and of showing how he was the +victim of inherent national prejudices, which time has not yet succeeded +in eradicating.</p> + +<p>The exuberance and variety of the gifts which nature had bestowed upon +Byron, together with the universality of his genius, which created in +him such apparently singular contrasts, no doubt inspired Mr. Disraeli +with the idea that to make him better known it was necessary to make two +persons of one, each of a different age, so as to be able to divide his +qualities according to their suitableness to those ages, and to make him +act and speak in accordance with each given character: to show us the +man in his moral, social, and intellectual capacity during his +transition from early youth to a maturer age, after the experience of +those hardships of life which have purified and strengthened his soul. +The first period is represented by the ardent and passionate Lord +Cadurcis, the other by the wise and philosophical Herbert. In making +Herbert live to a mature age, and in centring in him every grace, every +quality, every perfection with which a mortal can be gifted, he wished +to show to what degree of moral perfection Lord Byron might have +attained, and how happy he might have been in the peace and quiet of +domestic life had he been joined to another wife in matrimony, since +notwithstanding Lady Annabel's faults, happiness was not out of +Herbert's reach. The conclusion to which Disraeli no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_666" id="Page_666">[Pg 666] </a></span> doubt points is +the inward avowal by Lady Annabel herself that she, not Herbert, was the +cause of their separation, and of their useless misfortunes. Again, when +young Lord Cadurcis returns from Greece, and when Disraeli recounts his +conversation with Herbert, his intention, no doubt, was to show us the +intellectual and moral progress which time has caused him to make,—the +transition from the "Childe Harold" of twenty-one to the "Childe Harold" +of "Manfred" of twenty-nine; and from the "Childe Harold" of thirty to +the "Don Juan" and "Sardanapalus" of thirty-three; he thus was able to +put in relief that mobility of character which existed in him as regards +a certain order of ideas, and which blended itself so well with the +depth and the constancy of other of his views, enabling us to penetrate +into the recesses of that beautiful soul, and displaying to our admiring +gaze its numberless springs of action,—at times his constant aspiration +to come to the aid of humanity, and his little hope of succeeding in +modifying our corrupt nature; his love of glory, and how little he cared +for the appreciation of the public of which he had experienced the +fickle favors; his knowledge of life, his simple tastes, his love of +nature, and the greatness of his mind, of which no ambition or worldly +feeling could tarnish the simplicity and even sublimity. In giving him +two individualities the novelist was better able to combine the +passionate sarcasms of Cadurcis with the smiles of goodness and +tolerance of Herbert, and to show him to us as he was wont to converse, +mixing the wittiest remarks with the most serious reflections. He had +made him express a number of opinions apparently contradictory, but +which belonged to his peculiar character, which was equally simple and +complex, alike sensible and passionate, subject to a thousand influences +of weather and seasons; and though inflexible in his principles of honor +as in the whole course of his existence, yet changeable in things of +minor importance. He loves to mystify, and writes, without reflecting as +to the possible consequences, a number of things which cross his mind, +and in which he does not believe, but of which his love of humor forces +the expression to his lips. Again, Disraeli tells us of a number of his +real ideas, initiates us into his literary tastes, his philosophical +views, his preferences, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_667" id="Page_667">[Pg 667] </a></span> admiration for the great men of antiquity +and of modern times; tells us why his favorite philosophers are Plato +and Epicurus, his favorite characters in antiquity Alexander and +Alcibiades, both young and handsome conquerors; in modern times, Milton +and Sir Philip Sydney, Bayle and Montaigne; what his opinions respecting +Shakspeare and Pope, what Cadurcis, and what Herbert thinks of these; +and finally he gives us his views upon the love which we should have for +truth, upon the influence which political situations bear upon the +grandeur of country, not only in literature and in arts, but likewise in +philosophy, and in a number of other ways.</p> + +<p>All these means employed by the great novelist certainly succeed in +making of "Venetia" a most delightful book; but notwithstanding its +charms, as we read, it is impossible not to ask one's self at times +whether a historical novel is thus entitled to encroach upon the +biography of great men. Without pretending to settle the question, I own +that I rather appreciate the truth of a historical work than all the +pleasure which the talent of an author can afford me, and it appears to +me that if Mr. Disraeli, with his admirable talent, had chosen to write +the life of Lord Byron, he would have done better. We should not, it is +true, have had in the biography either the pleasant life at Cherbury, or +the scene at Newstead, neither the duel nor its consequences; but we +should have had almost a similar Lady Mounteagle, and we should have +seen the rise of that same base spirit in his colleague which greeted +him at one period of his life, the same wickedness which assailed him, +the same jealousy with which he was looked upon, the same cruel +persecution to which he was subjected, the same hatred which assailed +him on the part of the people who had a little before so idolized him, +and, in short, the same reaction in the public mind which actually took +place. We should, on the other hand, have equally seen the same noble +mind, too proud again to submit to the curb under the yoke of popular +public feeling. He would not have shown us a charming Lady Annabel +styled a virtuous woman, though she abandons her husband simply because +she believes he no longer entertains for her all the ardent love which +he had evinced during the honey-moon!—a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_668" id="Page_668">[Pg 668] </a></span>Lady Annabel, indeed, who +constitutes in herself a being morally impossible, who though she does +abandon her husband, spends her night in bewailing his loss at the foot +of his portrait; who, though she adores her daughter, nearly causes her +death with grief from the fear which she has that the child will not +marry a man of genius like her father. Instead of such a woman we should +have had, if not one more logical in her acts, at least more real and +historical, and exemplifying the painful and murderous effects of +silence in the condemnation of a man against whom the venom of calumny +has been directed—that man being no less a person than her own husband. +Instead of a Lady Annabel repentant at last, and self-accusing, truth +and reality would have presented us with an insensible, hard-hearted, +and inexorable woman, who remains inflexible to the last, and who +deserves that the effects should be applied to her of the words which +Cadurcis, in a moment of despair, pronounces against Venetia's mother, +when the former declares that she is the victim of her mother, but that +nevertheless she will do her duty:</p> + +<p>"Then my curse upon your mother's head! May Heaven rain all its plagues +upon her! The Hecate!"</p> + +<p>We should not have had a Venetia who is truly a delicious emanation from +a poet's mind, and the only woman worthy of becoming the wife of Lord +Byron, who sums up in herself all the tenderness which he must have +inspired in or felt for a woman, a sister, or a daughter. But we should +have had, instead of her, three persons who really existed, and who +exercised a great influence over Lord Byron's life. The one a young lady +of eighteen, whom Lord Byron styled light and coquettish, but who really +possessed his heart at fifteen years of age; the other his dear Augusta, +who was truly a Venetia toward him; and finally, his beloved little Ada, +for whom he had such a paternal tenderness. Instead of an elderly +Herbert returning to domestic happiness, which would simply have been +impossible with the wife whom Fate had chosen for Lord Byron, we should +have had a handsome young man who has not waited until he had reached +the mature age of Herbert to be adorned with every virtue, in whom +reason is not the effect of growing years, whose wisdom is not that of +the old; and instead of the pathetic catastrophe which is attributed to +Herbert and Cadurcis together, and which really<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_669" id="Page_669">[Pg 669] </a></span> occurred to Shelley, we +should have had Lord Byron's real death, which was infinitely more +pathetic, and could have been described in equally beautiful and +heartrending language. How sublime would have been the history of the +death of that young man who at the age of thirty-four heroically +sacrifices his life for the independence of a country which is not his +own, and whose patriotism is greater than that of his countrymen, since +he prefers the cause of humanity to the interests of the little spot on +the globe where he was born!</p> + +<p>If, then, instead of a novel, Mr. Disraeli had given us a true history, +the work would have been an everlasting monument erected to the memory +of two noble beings, and would have been transmitted to posterity as a +valuable testimony of the virtues of Lord Byron.</p> + +<p>As the book stands, and written by such a man as Mr. Disraeli, it will +ever remain a study worthy of being quoted among those whose object it +is to proclaim the truth respecting Lord Byron.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, <i>November, 1868</i>.</p> + + +<h4>THE END.</h4><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_670" id="Page_670">[Pg 670] </a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VALUABLE STANDARD WORKS</h2> +<h3>FOR PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LIBRARIES,</h3> +<h4>Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York</h4> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + +<p><i>For a full List of Books suitable for Libraries, see</i> <span class="smcap">Harper & +Brothers' Trade-List</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Catalogue</span>, <i>which may be had +gratuitously on application to the Publishers personally, or by letter +enclosing Five Cents</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span> <i>will send any of the following works by mail, postage +prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + +<p>MOTLEY'S DUTCH REPUBLIC. 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By <span class="smcap">Samuel Smiles</span>. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.</p> + +<p>SMILES'S HISTORY OF THE HUGUENOTS. The Huguenots: their Settlements, +Churches, and Industries in England and Ireland. By <span class="smcap">Samuel Smiles</span>, +Author of "Self-Help," &c. With an Appendix relating to the Huguenots in +America. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Beveled, $1 75.</p> + +<p>WHITE'S MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW. The Massacre of St. Bartholomew: +Preceded by a History of the Religious Wars in the Reign of Charles IX. +By <span class="smcap">Henry White</span>, M.A. With Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $1 75.</p> + +<p>ALISON'S HISTORY OF EUROPE. <span class="smcap">First Series</span>: From the Commencement of the +French Revolution, in 1789, to the Restoration of the Bourbons, in 1815. +[In addition to the Notes on Chapter LXXVI., which correct the errors of +the original work concerning the United States, a copious Analytical +Index has been appended to this American edition.] <span class="smcap">Second Series</span>: From +the Fall of Napoleon, in 1815, to the Accession of Louis Napoleon, in +1852. 8 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $16 00.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_671" id="Page_671">[Pg 671] </a></span></p> + +<p>LOSSING'S FIELD-BOOK OF THE WAR OF 1812. Pictorial Field-Book of the War +of 1812; or, Illustrations, by Pen and Pencil, of the History, +Biography, Scenery, Relics, and Traditions of the Last War for American +Independence. By <span class="smcap">Benson J. Lossing</span>. With several hundred Engravings on +Wood, by Lossing and Barritt, chiefly from Original Sketches by the +Author. 1088 pages, 8vo, Cloth. (<i>Publishing in Numbers.</i>)</p> + +<p>LOSSING'S FIELD-BOOK OF THE REVOLUTION. Pictorial Field-Book of the +Revolution; or, Illustrations, by Pen and Pencil, of the History, +Biography, Scenery, Relics, and Traditions of the War for Independence. +By <span class="smcap">Benson J. Lossing</span>. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $14 00; Sheep, $15 00; Half +Calf, $18 00; Full Turkey Morocco, $22 00.</p> + +<p>ABBOTT'S HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. The French Revolution of +1789, as viewed in the Light of Republican Institutions. By <span class="smcap">John S.C. +Abbott</span>. With 100 Engravings. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00.</p> + +<p>ABBOTT'S NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. The History of Napoleon Bonaparte. By <span class="smcap">John +S.C. Abbott</span>. With Maps, Woodcuts, and Portraits on Steel. 2 vols., 8vo, +Cloth, $10 00.</p> + +<p>ABBOTT'S NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA; or, Interesting Anecdotes and +Remarkable Conversations of the Emperor during the Five and a Half Years +of his Captivity. Collected from the Memorials of Las Casas, O'Meara, +Montholon, Autommarchi, and others. By <span class="smcap">John S.C. Abbott</span>. With +Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00.</p> + +<p>ADDISON'S COMPLETE WORKS. The Works of Joseph Addison, embracing the +whole of the "Spectator." Complete in 3 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $6 00.</p> + +<p>ALCOCK'S JAPAN. The Capital of the Tycoon: a Narrative of a Three Years' +Residence in Japan. By Sir <span class="smcap">Rutherford Alcock</span>, K.C.B., Her Majesty's +Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary in Japan. With Maps and +Engravings. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3 50.</p> + +<p>ALFORD'S GREEK TESTAMENT. The Greek Testament: with a critically-revised +Text; a Digest of Various Readings; Marginal References to Verbal and +Idiomatic Usage; Prolegomena; and a Critical and Exegetical Commentary. +For the Use of Theological Students and Ministers. By <span class="smcap">Henry Alford</span>, +D.D., Dean of Canterbury. Vol. I., containing the Four Gospels. 944 +pages, 8vo, Cloth, $6 00; Sheep, $6 50.</p> + +<p>BANCROFT'S MISCELLANIES. Literary and Historical Miscellanies. By <span class="smcap">George +Bancroft</span>. 8vo, Cloth, $3 00.</p> + +<p>BARTH'S NORTH AND CENTRAL AFRICA. Travels and Discoveries in North and +Central Africa: being a Journal of an Expedition undertaken under the +Auspices of H.B.M.'s Government, in the Years 1849-1855. By <span class="smcap">Henry Barth</span>, +Ph.D., D.C.L. Illustrated. Complete in Three Vols., 8vo, Cloth, $12 00.</p> + +<p>BELLOWS'S OLD WORLD. The Old World in its New Face: Impressions of +Europe in 1867-1868. By <span class="smcap">Henry W Bellows</span>. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3 50.</p> + +<p>BOSWELL'S JOHNSON. The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. Including a Journey +to the Hebrides. By <span class="smcap">James Boswell</span>, Esq. A New Edition, with numerous +Additions and Notes, By <span class="smcap">John Wilson Croker</span>, LL.D., F.R.S. Portrait of +Boswell. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $4 00.</p> + +<p>BRODHEAD'S HISTORY OF NEW YORK. History of the State of New York. By +<span class="smcap">John Romeyn Brodhead</span>. First Period, 1609-1664. 8vo, Cloth, $3 00.</p> + +<p>BULWER'S PROSE WORKS. Miscellaneous Prose Works of Edward Bulwer, Lord +Lytton. In Two Vols. 12mo, Cloth, $3 50.</p> + +<p>BURNS'S LIFE AND WORKS. The Life and Works of Robert Burns. Edited by +<span class="smcap">Robert Chambers</span>. 4 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $6 00.</p> + +<p>COLERIDGE'S COMPLETE WORKS. The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor +Coleridge. With an Introductory Essay upon his Philosophical and +Theological Opinions. Edited by Professor <span class="smcap">Shedd</span>. Complete in Seven Vols. +With a fine Portrait. Small 8vo, Cloth, $10 50.</p> + +<p>CURTIS'S HISTORY OF THE CONSTITUTION. History of the Origin, Formation, +and Adoption of the Constitution of the United States. By <span class="smcap">George Ticknor +Curtis</span>. Complete in Two large and handsome Octavo Volumes. 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