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THE MONTHLY REVIEW. AUGUST, 1830.
Art. I.—Conversations on Religion, with Lord Byron and others, held in
Cephalonia, a short time previous to his Lordship’s death. By the
late James Kennedy, M.D. of H. M. Medical Staff. 8vo. pp. 461. London:
Murray. 1830.
The interest that has been long felt by the public in every
authentic work connected with the personal story of Lord
Byron, has not yet, so far as we are able to judge, begun to decline. There are
few of the sentiments of that gifted and unfortunate nobleman, with which the world is supposed
to be better acquainted, than those sometimes expressed, and too often implied in his poetry,
concerning the vital subject of religion. The general impression seems to be that he was an
atheist, or at least a deist; that he yielded no belief to the Scriptures, and that like many
others, he formed a system of government, if such it may be called, for the guidance of his
morality, from which every restraint unpleasant to the passions was carefully excluded. This
impression, we regret to say, is completely and unequivocally justified by the volume now
before us. We had entertained a hope, a slight one it must be confessed, that Mr. Moore might have had in reserve for his second volume, a page or two of evidence to shew that
Lord Byron had not died in the ranks of utter infidelity. But
Dr. Kennedy’s testimony has put an
extinguisher upon that slender ray of expectation.
That Lord Byron, with his mind unenlightened
upon the subject, and his heart hardened by the course of dissipation, which, from his youth
upwards, he incessantly pursued,—surrounded as he was during the greater part of his
career, and particularly towards the close of it, by companions, if possible, more thoroughly
corrupted in the ways of infidelity than himself, could nevertheless be induced to listen to
instructions, and even long lectures, from a layman, upon the doctrines of Christianity, is of
itself a fact of considerable importance in the history of religion. It is a species of homage
paid by ignorance and depravity to wisdom and truth;—an
involuntary acknowledgment that there is something worth knowing, in the Christian
dispensation, and that the system of unbelief has nothing in it capable of appeasing the thirst
of the human mind for the fountains of a nobler world, or of soothing that restlessness which
keeps the thinking man of no settled religion in a state of perpetual fever. For who is the man
that can compare two ideas together, who does not feel that his existence upon this planet is
but a brief part of the life which is given to him? And who, with the experience of this
feeling growing with his years, but must advance one step farther, and perceive that he has not
been thrown upon this earth as in a boat upon a shoreless sea, without a star to guide him in
the path which he is to take? Some have the good fortune to be placed within the influence of
that sacred and unerring light which shall direct their bark to the haven where storms never
blow. But incalculable is the number of those who, like Lord Byron,
continue during their whole lives to be tossed about by the contending opinions of persons who
would be their pilots—of men who assume to themselves the gift of extraordinary
knowledge, and for sordid gain, the gratification of their vanity, or from the mere impulse of
wicked ambition, set themselves up as guides to the human race in the most essential of all
human concerns.
No blame should attach to the motives by which Dr.
Kennedy was actuated in his efforts to convert Lord
Byron to Christianity. Those motives were no doubt pure and laudable; and we
admit, considering the state in which the noble poet’s mind was placed by his notions of
religion, any step which he might have been prevailed upon to take out of his usual course,
would have been something gained towards the attainment of the great end of truth. But it
certainly was unfortunate that Dr. Kennedy, though apparently well
acquainted with the Scriptures, and a firm believer in the principal tenets of Christianity,
had nevertheless no regular system of his own. He seems to have leaned towards Methodism, yet
he was not a Methodist. The churches of Rome and England and Scotland, he deemed full of
errors. We cannot divine whether he belonged to any known sect, or whether he meant to found a
new sect of his own. He received the Scriptures as the rule of his conduct, but he appears only
to have fixed his particular attention upon what may be called the ethical portion of the New
Testament. He was, if we may so say without irreverence, a Scriptural Platonist. He admired the
precepts of the Gospel, and, so far as morals were concerned, we have no reason to doubt that
his life was in conformity to those precepts: but religion he had none. This feature in his
character, whilst it did not prevent him from attempting to make converts to what he called
Christianity, exposed him to considerable difficulties in his efforts to reclaim such a mind as
Lord Byron’s. It brought upon him, moreover, no small share of
ridicule among persons who, equally despising all forms of faith,
laughed, not without reason, at a lecturer who, though he taught Christianity, was the adherent
of no Christian church.
It is not our intention to go through Dr.
Kennedy’s peculiar doctrines with the view of controverting them. That is
the duty of the divines, to whom we cheerfully leave it, if it be one which they may think it
worth while to perform. Our purpose is merely to exhibit a few of the subjects which were
placed under Lord Byron’s notice, and the manner in
which they were treated, as well by his lordship as by the person with whom he conversed.
Doctor Kennedy was undoubtedly a man of a very acute mind; but we
should no more desire to be responsible for all his doctrines than for those of the unbeliever,
whom he undertook to instruct.
It appears that having been stationed in the Ionian islands in the latter part of
the year 1822, Dr. Kennedy was still a resident of
Cephalonia, when Lord Byron landed at that island on his way
to Greece, in August, 1823, accompanied by Count Gamba,
Dr. Bruno, Mr. Hamilton
Brown, and Mr. Trelawney. Here
Lord Byron deemed it prudent to remain for more than four months,
waiting for authentic intelligence from the scene of war as to the state of parties. It was no
doubt his ambition to witness the resuscitation of the Greek name and nation. Nothing
transpires in the volume before us, which indicates that he had any object of personal
aggrandisement in view; at the same time, little doubt can be entertained that he aimed at the
sovereignty of that country, and hence it was, that instead of proceeding at once to
Missolonghi, he preferred sojourning in Cephalonia, in order to ascertain how matters were
likely to go. It was not long before he learned that his project was a very chimerical one; and
he gave himself up for a while to indolent repose at Metaxala, a pleasant village about four
miles from Argostoli, the capital of the island. The account of his arrival at this place,
connected as it is with our principal subject, will not be read without interest.
‘His arrival at Argostoli excited a great sensation among the
Greeks and the English. The former were eager to behold a wealthy English nobleman, and a
celebrated poet, (of whose fame most of them had heard much, while many were acquainted with
part of his writings,) on his way to join their countrymen, to add the whole weight of his
name, influence, talents and fortune to the cause of freedom. The latter felt a still greater
curiosity to behold a countryman not less interesting by his unrivalled talents, than by that
mystery and awe thrown over his character by his faults and misfortunes; but, above all, by the
daily rumours of his misanthropy, profligacy, and infidelity, and by the warfare which he had
so long carried on against many of the most distinguished literary characters, as well as
against the government and religion of his native country. He was viewed by all as an object of
wonder and astonishment; and as one whose talents, character, and sentiments separated him, as
it were, from the rest of mankind. All were alike anxious to view his person and watch his
proceedings, and none but a spectator of the scene could conceive the vague and unrestrained
wonder which he occasioned. It was generally supposed, that his lordship
would shun his countrymen, as he had done in Italy; and he,—as was afterwards
ascertained,—apprehended that they would, in like manner, shun him; not only because of
the censures, reproaches, and calumnies against him, with which, about this time, most of the
papers and periodical publications were filled, rendering him, as he often felt, an object of
detestation and abhorrence; but also, because of the delicacy which they might feel as subjects
of a neutral government, in showing any attention to one who was going to take an active part
in what was legally considered a rebellion.
‘Instructions having arrived from the superior authorities, to
receive his lordship with the respect and courtesy due to his rank, Colonel D., who commanded in the absence of the governor, went on board, and
was received with that affability and politeness, which so much distinguished his lordship.
‘The first invitation which his lordship accepted, was to an
evening party at the Honourable Colonel D.’s. A
friend of mine, S., who was present, was delighted with
the affability and refinement of his lordship’s manners; and with the ease, simplicity,
and cheerfulness with which he conversed on common topics; so different from the idea which he
had formed of his lordship’s character.
‘The officers of the garrison, having invited him to dine, did
everything they could to mark their respect and admiration for his rank and talents. On his
health being drunk, he expressed his great satisfaction at being in the society of his
countrymen, and of seeing so many of them together. He added, that he felt so much the honour
they had done him, that he was afraid he could not express his sense of the obligation as be
ought, having been so long in the practice of speaking a foreign language that he could not
convey his sentiments in adequate terms in his native tongue. He was much pleased when he had
made his short speech, and repeatedly asked Colonel D.
if he had done well, and if he had acquitted himself properly, as he was so little, he said, in
the practice of public speaking.
‘Hitherto I had seen his lordship only on horseback, as he
took his evening ride with his friends; and while I often listened to the details of his
sayings and actions, which formed the subject of general conversation, and which, for the most
part, were only interesting because they were said or done by Lord
Byron, I had no anticipation that circumstances were preparing the way for
affording me a near and an intimate intercourse with him.’—pp. 3—6.
The circumstances to which Dr. Kennedy
alludes were these: He had one evening three or four friends to dine with him, all Scotchmen
like himself, and—with one exception—of the liberal professions. The conversation
happening to turn on the subject of religion, the host was surprised to learn that, although
from a country famed for its religious character, they were all deists. They in their turn
appeared equally surprised that he should believe in Christianity, and the discussion ended for
the evening in an argument that the Doctor should explain the grounds of his faith, after doing
which, he promised ‘to refute any objection, and solve any difficulty which they might
bring forward.’ It is but justice to the Doctor to observe that he modestly and very
properly states his own persuasion, that ‘no reasoning nor argument
could convince an unbeliever, unless the grace of God accompanied the means used.’ All he
hoped to accomplish was to impart to his friends some information on the subject which might
turn their attention to the Scriptures, and, at least, remove the deplorable ignorance under
which they then laboured. A day was appointed for this purpose, and the circumstance coming to
the knowledge of Lord Byron, his lordship signified a wish
to be of the party, and said that ‘he also would willingly be converted, if he could, as
he felt no happiness in his present unsettled notions on religion.’ “You
know,” added his lordship to the gentleman whom he addressed, “I am
reckoned a black sheep;” and, after a pause, he continued, “yet not so
black as the world believes me, nor worse than others.” Lord
Byron’s wishes were of course cheerfully acceded to, and the party
originally consisting of only five, having been increased to ten, the argument was entered upon
by Doctor Kennedy.
In a long preliminary discourse, which we fear must have exercised the patience
of some of his hearers, the Doctor attempted to draw a clear distinction between what he called
‘the Christianity of the Bible and the Christianity of men.’ He would
not endeavour, he said, to prove that ‘any particular creed, confession, or form of
church discipline, was divine!’ This he thought
‘impossible!’—for, he adds, ‘although these are all founded on the
Scriptures, or at least said to be so, yet, as they are expressed in uninspired language on
the one hand, or mixed with human devices and inventions on the other, so they must partake
more or less of a mixture of error, or of what cannot be clearly or unequivocally proved to
be the truth.’ Thus our learned physician very easily gets rid of every
description of church erected on the basis of Christianity—rather an inauspicious
commencement of his missionary labours. He then confined his inquiry to the question, whether
the Scriptures contain ‘the genuine revelation of the will of God?’ but as
he was proceeding to read from Newton a summary of the
fundamental doctrines of Christianity, his auditors interrupted him and contended that the
first object should be to prove that the Scriptures were true.
Had we been present at this lecture, we should have very humbly asked the Doctor
what were the Scriptures? In what record were they contained? Whence did he get his Bible? How
and where was it preserved? How was it handed down to him? To a man who acknowledged no
Christian church, these would have been puzzling questions, for without such a church, and a
true church into the bargain, having existed since the time of the Redeemer, how could it be
proved that the sacred writings were preserved in a pure and authentic form? But we abstain
from further comment.
The conversation next turned on Grace and Miracles, upon both of which subjects the lecturer was rather unsatisfactory. In the course
of it, Lord Byron made a confession of his own principles.
‘His lordship said, that when he was young, his mother
brought him up strictly; that he had access to a great many theological works, and
remembered that, among others, he was particularly pleased with Barrow’s writings, and that he also went regularly to church. He said
that he was not an infidel who denied the Scriptures, and wished to remain in
unbelief,—on the contrary, he was very desirous to believe, as he experienced no
happiness in having his religious opinions so unsteady and unfixed. “But he could
not,” he added, “understand the Scriptures.” He said, “that those
people who conscientiously believe, he should always respect, and was always disposed to
trust in them more than in others; but he had met with so many, whose conduct differed from
the principles which they professed, and who seemed to profess these principles, either
because they were paid to do it, or from some other motive, which an intimate acquaintance
with their character would enable one to detect; that he had seen few, if any, whom he
could rely upon as truly and conscientiously believing the Scriptures.” I said,
“it was to be regretted that there were so many who professed their conviction of the
truth of Christianity, whose conduct afforded reason to suspect the reality of their
belief; but that we must not judge too harshly, since we do not know how sincerely these
people have repented, and how much they have struggled to preserve themselves from those
errors and infirmities, which cause at once a scandal to their profession and expose them
to reprehension. As an exception proves the rule, so the existence of
hypocrites,—even were the people, his lordship had met with, such—proved the
existence of sincere believers: it would be unjust to entertain a general suspicion against
all Christians, because one has been so unfortunate as to meet only with those whose
sincerity might fairly be distrusted.’”—pp. 46, 47.
After making several objections to the Bible, which to say the least of them
were extremely unworthy of Lord Byron’s mind, such as
that the Apostles were accused of not writing good Greek, and that the serpent of Paradise was
not the devil, but only the subtlest of all the beasts of the field, he came to that common
place of the existence of so much evil in the world. For the answer to these and other
objections made on this occasion, we must refer to the volume itself. There is, however, one
passage of a frightful nature, which we cannot altogether pass over.
‘There were two remarks made by his lordship during the
conversation, which deserve to be recorded, though no effort of memory has enabled me to
recall the circumstances of the conversation which led to them. I suppose I must have said
something about the sovereignty of God, and alluded to the similitude used in Scripture of
the potter and his clay; for I distinctly remember his lordship having said, that he would
certainly say to the potter, if he were broken in pieces, “Why do you treat me
thus?” The other observation was, that, “If the whole world were going to hell,
he would prefer going with them, than go alone to heaven.” These remarks were heard
by the others with apparent approbation and applause. I remember, after his departure,
conversing with M. and S., and remarking on this topic, that it was easy to talk thus, when he was
not put to the test; but that if he were tried, his decision would be
different, or human nature must be changed: the observation indicating equally the
selfishness of man, and an ignorance of the true nature of the Christian
religion.’—pp. 66, 67.
Thus terminated the first conversation. The subject was subsequently resumed at
successive meetings, at which Lord Byron was not present,
and we must do Dr. Kennedy’s memory the justice to
say, that his arguments and illustrations on many points of doctrine and evidence connected
with the sacred writings, are clearly and forcibly put. We regret to learn, however, that they
produced but little effect, for—with the exception of one gentleman, of whom he had some
hope,—he candidly informs us that the members of his little congregation separated as
much Christians as when they first assembled to hear him.
The Doctor, meanwhile, did not altogether despair of converting the noble
wanderer. He called occasionally upon him at his country residence, and it is due to Lord Byron to say that he never appeared adverse to the
introduction of the Doctor’s favourite topic. On the contrary, his lordship uniformly
either led to it, or cheerfully went on with it when the ice was once broken. The Doctor at one
of these interviews charged the poet with yielding too much to fancy, and with rejecting the
Christian system without due inquiry.
‘I “have no wish,” said Lord Byron, “to reject it without investigation; on the
contrary, I am very desirous of believing, for I have no happiness in my present unsettled
notions on religion.”
‘“If that be the case,” I replied, “then
you have no time to lose. It is your positive duty, as well as your highest interest, to
begin immediately, and if you do so with a proper spirit, and persevere a sufficient time,
you will arrive at a firm conviction of its truth. You must pray humbly to God to grant
you, by his holy Spirit, a sense of your own iniquity, and a proper view of the necessity
of a Saviour; and when you have seen this, the propriety and harmony of the doctrines of
the Gospel will unfold themselves before you.”
‘“But I do not see,” he said, “very much
the need of a Saviour, nor the utility of prayer. Prayer does not consist in the act of
kneeling, nor in repeating certain words in a solemn manner. Devotion is the affection of
the heart, and this I feel; for when I view the wonders of creation, I bow to the Majesty
of Heaven; and when I feel the enjoyments of life, health, and happiness, I feel grateful
to God for having bestowed these upon me.”
‘“All this, is well,” I said, “so far as
it goes, but to be a Christian, you must go farther. Such feelings of devotion as these, I
believe, every one experiences, even the most wicked, for they are forced upon him by the
wonders of the Creator, and by the nature of his own constitution. If Christianity did not
exist, such feelings might be excited; but as Christianity is revealed to man, and is the
only means, hitherto known, by which a sinner can be reconciled to a holy God, and made for
everlasting happiness, it imperiously demands the attention of every one: for, if true, it
follows inevitably, that transitory moments of devotion and gratitude will not be considered as sufficient for qualifying a man for heaven, if
he reject that Saviour, the Son of God, who came to die in his stead, that his sins might
be forgiven, and that, by believing in him, his heart and affections might be changed, and
his conduct and conversation altered. I would entreat your lordship to read your bible most
attentively, with humble prayer, that light may be given you to understand it; for, great
as your talents are, without the teaching of the holy Spirit, the whole book will be to you
sealed, or at most an entertaining history, or a curious fable.”
‘“I read more of the bible than you are
aware,” said Lord B.; “I have a bible which
my sister gave me, who is an excellent woman, and I read it very often.” He went into
his bed-room on saying this, and brought out a pocket bible, finely bound, and shewed it to
me.
‘I said, “You cannot do better than read this; but
if you have read it so much, it is singular that you have not arrived at the understanding
of it.’—pp. 134—137.
Although Lord Byron was possessed of a Bible,
it is painful to think how little he must have read or reflected upon its contents. The idea
that Satan, of whose existence however he doubted, must be as much under the controul of the
Omnipotent as any of the elements of nature, seemed to be quite novel to his mind. In one
description of heresy, it appears, both the physician and the poet agreed—both felt
indifferent towards Milton and Shakespeare. The conversation arose out of the subject of
witches.
‘“But since we have spoken of witches,” said
Lord Byron, “what think you of the
witch of Endor? I have always thought this the finest and most
finished witch-scene that ever was written or conceived, and you will be of my opinion, if
you consider all the circumstances and the actors in the case, together with the gravity,
simplicity, and dignity of the language. It beats all the ghost-scenes I ever read. The
finest conception on a similar subject is that of Goethe’s Devil, Mephistopheles;
and though of course you will give the priority to the former, as being inspired, yet the
latter, if you know it, will appear to you—at least it does to me—one of the
finest and most sublime specimens of human conception.”
‘I smiled at the singular associations which brought such
subjects together in Lord B.’s mind. I said, I
agreed with him as to the first, though I had not before considered it in a poetical point
of view; but the grandeur of the circumstances readily struck me, when he pointed them out
to me, but I was not able to judge of the latter, as it was some time since I had looked at
Madame de Stael’swork on Germany, where an abstract is given, and
copious extracts are made from the work. “The authoress praises it in very high
terms; but,” I said, “whether owing to want of taste or something else, I had
never met with any conception of angels, whether good or bad, or devils, or witches, which
conveyed an idea sufficiently high of the goodness of the one class, or of the wickedness
of the other. Milton,” I said, “appears
to me completely to fail in his angels. His good angels are very good, but they are a
little insipid, and the bad angels excite more sympathy and less terror than perhaps he
intended. The only fine conception of its kind is the Diable boiteaux, at least, it seems to me to be more
original than any other sketch of a devil which I have seen.”
‘“Do you very much admire Milton?” asked Lord
B. “It would be heresy,” I replied, “to say that I do not
admire Milton, and in sober earnestness I admire his talents as a
poet, but I have no pleasure in the greater part of his Paradise Lost. The weakness of fiction is strikingly manifest to him who knows
the simple majesty of divine truth, and he who is so much impressed with the latter can
have no enjoyment in seeing it rendered subservient to fiction.” “I do not so
greatly admire Milton, myself,” said Lord
B.; “nor do I admire Cowper,
whom so many people praise.” Cowper happens to be my favourite
among the poets,” I said, “and he is so with a large class of people, and will
continue to be so, in proportion as real Christianity spreads, for he has more of moral and
divine truth in his poems than any other poet of his rank and poetical abilities. My habits
and studies do not lead me to read much poetry, and I am probably a very incompetent judge;
but, like many others, I have read Cowper twice or thrice, and may
read him oftener, but though I have more than once resolved to read
Milton, I have never fairly read him twice, but tired after
reading different passages.”
‘“Do you admire Shakspeare?” enquired Lord B.
“By no means to that extent which is generally done.” “Neither do
I,” said his lordship.’—pp. 154—156.
Lord Byron more than once acknowledged that he had failed in
his tragedies. He evinced great anxiety in defending his character from the attacks that were
made upon it in the reviews of “Cain.”
He conceived that he had done enough, if he drew that personage with fidelity, truth, and
consistency, and that he was not answerable for his rebellion against God, the murder of his
brother, and his blasphemous sentiments. To this it was properly answered, why bring forward
such a character at all? Or if brought upon the stage, why do his impious reasonings remain
unreproved and uncontradicted by the virtuous beings who figure in the same drama? The poet was
seriously affected, however, upon being told ‘of a man in distressed circumstances,
who one evening brought Cain in his hand to a friend, and read
some passages of it to him, in which, doubts of immortality, and of justice on earth, are
expressed—and who, after desiring attention to what was there said, shot himself on
the following morning.‘“In what work,” asked Lord
B., “did this fact appear?” “It was in the
newspaper; whether true or false, I cannot say.” “I am very sorry for
it,” he replied, “whether it be true or false. Had I known that such an
event was likely to happen, I should never have written the book.” This was the
repentance of an ingenuous mind. We trust it was recorded elsewhere. Lord
Byron’s defence of Don Juan
could hardly have satisfied even his own mind.
‘“Even in this work,” said Lord B., “I have been equally misunderstood. I take a
vicious and unprincipled character, and lead him through those ranks of society, whose high
external accomplishments cover and cloke internal and secret vices, and I paint the natural
effects of such characters; and certainly they are not so highly coloured as we find them
in real life.”
‘“This may be true; but the question is, what are
your motives and object for painting nothing but scenes of vice and folly?” “To
remove the cloke, which the manners and maxims of society,” said his lordship,
“throw over their secret sins, and shew 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
colours.”
‘“My situation,” I replied, “did not
naturally lead me into society, yet, I believed, before the publication of your book, that
the world, especially the lower and middling classes of society, never entertained the
opinion, that the highest classes exhibited models of piety and virtue; nay, from
circumstances, we are naturally disposed to believe them worse than they really
are.”
‘“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.” “But still, my lord, granting this, how is your book
calculated to improve them, and by what right, and under what title, do you come forward in
this undertaking?” “By the right,” he replied, “which every one has
who abhors vice united with hypocrisy.’”—pp. 163, 4.
His Lordship concluded the conversation with promising a moral winding up to the
whole!!—a promise which, if it had been fulfilled, in the spirit of his defence, would
have compensated but very scantily for a tithe of the mischief with which that poem is fraught.
Recurring again to the subject of religion, we think that Doctor
Kennedy pressed his noble pupil very forcibly, with respect to the difficulties
which he alleged to be in the way of his conversion. The advice given to his lordship on this
occasion is sound, and may be read even by the best of Christians with advantage. Upon being
asked why he did not at once apply to the Great Mediator, he observed,
‘“This is going too fast. There are many points and
difficulties to clear up; when that is done, I will consider what you say.”
“What are your difficulties?” I asked. “If the subject is of importance,
why not have them cleared and removed? You do not want time; you can reason and reflect.
The means of clearing up these difficulties are at hand. If it were a question of poetry,
or of poetic literature, you would search and examine, and soon form your own judgment: on
a point of far greater consequence, why do you linger and delay?”
‘“This is true,” he said; “but here I
am, the slave of circumstances, surrounded by things, and people which distract my
attention, with nothing to lead me to the consideration of such subjects.”
“Your own judgment, and the consciousness of your own happiness, and that you are not
fulfilling the ends of your creation, should lead you to the examination of the subject;
and besides, there are no circumstances which bind you with such irresistible power, that
you cannot easily surmount and conquer them. Religion must be sought after; your habits and
studies must be subdued and laid aside in part, till you have obtained this, and then we
may expect to see fruits worthy the high talents which God, whose revela-tion you neglect, has given you. I wish more earnestly than before,
that your lordship would study the subject night and day, till you ascertain its truth, and
your difficulties vanish. Every one would help you in your research: small as my abilities
and experience are,—they are at your service. And I give you my testimony in the most
solemn manner, that if you allow any worldly circumstance to interfere with you, till you
have succeeded in the search to which I encourage you, you will have deeply to repent of
your neglect.”
‘“Well, what would you have me to do? How shall I
set about it?” “Begin,” I said, “this very night to pray that God
would pardon your sins, and grant you understanding to find out the truth, and continue
praying on the one hand, and reading your bible on the other, and do it with an earnest
desire and an unbiassed mind, and the result will be what we so earnestly wish. I do not
mean that you are to take the subject on trust; examine it with the strictest scrutiny;
weigh every objection, and hear every answer, and give on each side the fairest play: if
you do this with justice and candour, you must believe.”’—pp.
173—175.
Nothing could be more wholesome than this counsel. On this and indeed upon all
other occasions, Doctor Kennedy spoke out with frankness
and simplicity, and perfect coolness. The “difficulties” of Lord Byron were such as every man feels who has not the resolution to conquer
them. To begin the contest in a proper manner, is to put an end to them. They fly with
inconceivable rapidity before the mind which once firmly and sincerely determines to seek and
adopt the truth.
As far as we can judge, Doctor
Kennedy’s notions upon the mystery of the Trinity, and upon the subject of
Predestination, are equally just and intelligible. We have already said that he belonged to no
church. Yet is he as exclusive in his doctrine of salvation, as if he were the founder of an
unerring system of his own. We can hardly understand the tendency of his ideas for uniting
together in one bond Christians of every denomination, and yet leaving them all perfect liberty
of conscience, while he condemns altogether the Catholics, the Arians, the Socinians, and
others. His language upon this subject, and that from a non-churchman too, would lead us to the
supposition that the good Doctor looked upon himself as the only infallible interpreter of the
Scriptures that has yet appeared. He says:—
‘From such an union, however, I would exclude Arians,
Socinians, Swedenborgians, and fanatics of all descriptions; leaving to them, not only
toleration, but perfect liberty of conscience. These people have no right to the name of
Christians. The Arians deny that the Son is equal to the Father; although he himself
expressly declares that he is. The Socinians say, he is not a divine character; yet these
sects call themselves Christians, while they reject the testimony of Christ. The other
fanatics are too absurd in their fancies and imaginations to be reasoned with.
‘“You seem to hate the Socinians,” said
Lord Byron. “Not the individuals,” I
replied, “but their principles. I believe their system a terrible delusion, and that
there is more hope of a deist, than of a Socinian, becoming a real Christian.”
‘“But is this charitable?” he asked;
“why would you exclude a sincere Socinian from the hope of salvation?”
‘“I do not exclude him, and certainly I am no judge;
nor ought we to judge of the ultimate state of any one; but comparing the Socinian
doctrines with those in the Bible, the one or other must be wrong.”
‘“But they draw their doctrine from the
Bible,” said Lord B. “Yes, so do all the
fools, enthusiasts, and fanatics; so the Church of Rome founds a system of idolatry, as
absurd as ancient or modern paganism, on the Bible. The Socinians reject such parts of the
Scripture, as interpolations, or corruptions, which do not suit their scheme; they turn
literal things into metaphorical, and metaphorical into literal, until they succeed in
representing original sin, the depravity of our nature, the necessity of atonement, and
consequently the whole necessity of a revelation, as perfectly useless. Setting aside the
evidence on which these doctrines stand, it is obvious, according to their scheme, that
there was very little need of a Saviour. The truth is, the Socinians are all unregenerated
men; their hearts require to be renewed and their heads enlightened; and their danger is,
that they have formed a false system of religion, and cling to it in the hope of safety. If
any of them are sincerely seeking the truth, God will in due time teach them, and bring
them out of their Socinian delusion; but those who die believing it, die, as far as I can
judge, unregenerated, and consequently, according to the Scriptures, die in a most
dangerous state.”
‘“Their religion,” said his lordship, seems to
be spreading very much. Lady B. is a great one among
them, and much looked up to. She and I used to have a great many discussions on religion,
and some of our differences arose from this point; but on comparing all the points
together, I found that her religion was very similar to mine.”
‘I said I was exceedingly sorry to hear that her ladyship
was among such a set, and I hoped that ere long she would see her error and danger.
“But,” I added, “were thousands more of the great, and the noble, and the
learned among them, Christianity will stand and raise its head with ultimate success from
amidst the ruins of superstition, ignorance, idolatry, and damnable
heresies.”’—pp. 195—197.
Here is an expounder of the Scriptures for you! Here is an amiable example of
the invaluable advantage which we all possess in this happy country, of making a religion for
ourselves out of the Scriptures, and of sending to the regions below every man, woman, and
child, who will not subscribe to the creed which we may have thought fit to manufacture!
During these conversations, Lord Byron
appears to have been usually highly animated, indeed so much so, that it was difficult to keep
him long together fixed upon any one point. He seemed to his instructor generally to express
his real sentiments, though there never was any great degree of seriousness mixed with them.
‘Nor did he ever allow any opportunity of uttering a pun, or saying a smart thing,
to escape him.’ The Doctor could not have been much surprised to hear from one of
Lord Byron’s intimate associates, that his lectures had hitherto
produced no great effect. “I do not think,” said he, “that you have
made much impression on him; he is just the same fellow as before. He
says he does not know what religion you are of, for you neither adhered to creeds nor
councils—that you were very frank and liberal, and confined yourself to the
Scriptures alone, without caring any thing about the speculations of Divines.”
But the unkindest act of all came from the wits of the garrison, who circulated a report,
whether true or false the deponent saith not, that Lord Byron’s real
object in listening to the Doctor was, to obtain an accurate idea ‘of the opinions and
manners of the Methodists, in order that he might make Don
Juan become one for a time!!’ This story did not prevent the
Doctor from renewing his laudable exertions, although he ended just as he had begun,
“wasting his sweetness on the desert air.” The noble adventurer left
Cephalonia for Greece, as little imbued as ever with the spirit of Christianity. The sequel of
his career need not be told.
Some remarks casually made by Lord Byron
concerning his daughter, and his separation from his lady, shall conclude our extracts from
this volume.
‘“I have had letters from England,” said
Lord B., “which mention that Ada has been unwell,—she is now better. Her
complaint was a determination of blood to the head: what is the cause of it at her
age?” “This depends on various causes, and I could not pretend to judge what
the cause is in her case, unless I saw her.” “Do you,” asked he,
“think that such a complaint is habitual?” “No, it is not necessarily
so,” I replied. “It is curious,” he answered, “that it is a
complaint to which I myself am subject.”
‘“I could easily suppose so,” I said,
“from your mode of life, and habits of study,—irregular, but intense; and I
think I could have inferred so from the state of your eyes. Your right eye appears
inflamed.” “That is from having read a good deal of late; but it will easily be
removed, when I remove the cause. Ada,” he
continued, “is, I understand, very fond of reading. She lies on the sofa great part
of the day reading, and displays, perhaps, a premature strength of mind, and quickness of
understanding.” “I hope,” I rejoined, “that her inclination for
acquiring knowledge will not be pushed too far, to the injury of her health, or even to the
exhaustion of her intellectual powers, as is too often done by foolish and fond
parents.”
‘“I hope not,” said Lord B.; “and I am sure that I can rely on Lady B.’s judgment and discretion.”
‘“Do you know, my Lord,” I said, “that I
hope ere long to see the day when your lordship will again be united to Lady B., and enjoy all the happiness of domestic life, instead
of following your present wandering and unsettled state, so unsuitable to one of your rank
and station.”
‘“What makes you think so? Have you had any private
information?” asked Lord B. “ No,” I
replied; “I judge from circumstances, which I will mention, if they are not likely to
offend your lordship.”
‘“By all means, tell me what they are.”
“I judge from the style in which you spoke of Lady
B.,—when we were talking of whom we would save, at a former
conversation,—that your affection for her is not extinguished by absence, nor by all
that has happened; that, in fact, she is not indifferent to you.”
‘“If I said any thing disrespectful of Lady B., I am very much to blame. Lady B.
deserves every respect from me, and certainly nothing could give me greater pleasure than a
reconciliation.”
‘“With such sentiments, how is it possible that a
separation has taken place, or how is it that a reunion cannot be effected? Under such
circumstances, neither you nor she can be happy; and the cause must be singular, which two
persons of such rank and understanding cannot find out and remove.”
‘“I do not, indeed, know the cause of
separation,” said Lord B. “I know that many
falsehoods have been spread abroad,—such as my bringing actresses to my
house,—but they were all false. Lady B. left me
without explaining the cause. I sent Hobhouse to
her, who almost went on his knees,—but in vain: and at length I wished to institute
an action against her, that it might be seen what were her motives.”
‘“Perhaps,” I said, “Lady B. is to be commended. No wife, from motives of delicacy,
would like the public to be acquainted with the causes of her sorrow and grief, in
circumstances where her husband was concerned; and if she acted under misapprehension, or
bad influence, it was your lordship’s duty to have acted in such a way as in time to
remove this.”
‘“What could I have done? I did everything at the
time that could be done, and I am, and have always been, ready for a reconciliation.”
“I think your lordship could have done many things, and some of them better than you
did. In the first place, it was wrong to give such publicity to a domestic
misunderstanding, by poems, however beautiful and pathetic; but before I tell you what you
might have done, let me ask you what would you not have done, when you were paying your
addresses to Lady B.? Would any task have appeared too
severe for you? Would you not have compassed sea and land, and gone to the uttermost parts
of the earth, in order to obtain her hand?” “I would,” said his lordship.
“Well, and how is it that you cannot do the same to regain the suspended affections
of one who is dearer, as she is nearer, than she ever was when you were her lover,—of
your wife, and the mother of your child? Instead of leaving your country in a pet, and
living retiredly in a country so grossly immoral as Italy, and thus affording just grounds
to Lady B. and others, for suspecting the purity of your manners, and
at least furnishing strong grounds for the tales (calumnies they may be) which were spread
against you,—could you not have remained in England, where your conduct would have
been open to her inspection? Could you not have taken up your abode near her, in whatever
place she moved to, and so lived as to satisfy her in time, and compel her to acknowledge
that she had wronged you, and that she had acted from misapprehension?” His lordship
smiled, and said, “All this is very fine,—but it would have had no effect.
Everything was done that could be reasonably done, and it was unsuccessful; and I have
remained, and I shall always remain, ready for a reconciliation with Lady
B., whenever circumstances open and point out the way to
it.”’—pp. 263—267.
From all that we have heard and read upon the subject of Lord Byron’s separation from his wife, we have no doubt that this
conversation has been very accurately reported. We confess that we have not been at all
satisfied with the vindications which have been lately put forth by her
ladyship and her friend Mr. Campbell, on this subject.
The poet put on the airs of a schoolmaster, in reproving his friend
Moore. It appears to us that there must have been
some sad mistake in this business, from the beginning to the end, and that it is much to be
lamented that Lady Byron’s family did not afford some
opportunity for a personal explanation from his lordship, that would perhaps have removed the
impressions under which her ladyship acted.
It is with unfeigned concern we add, that the ingenious and well-disposed man
from whose notes this volume has been prepared, died in Jamaica of the yellow fever, in the
autumn of 1827, a year remarkably fatal to our troops on the West India station. Although we
differ widely from some of the views which he has taken of Christianity, we cannot deny that he
in general supported those views with distinguished energy and eloquence. The book though
necessarily imperfect is interesting, and well calculated to turn the attention of the
indifferent to the most important subject that can occupy the thoughts of a human being. We
should take the liberty of recommending those who begin their studies in religion with this
work, by no means to end with it. It contains and enforces many serious errors, which it is not
within the province of a literary journal to point out or refute.