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Lord Byron and his Times: http://lordbyron.org
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Preliminary Statement of the circumstances leading to the
suppression of
Note as to the birth place of
Family connexions of
The Satire “British Bard and Scotch
Reviewers”—originally printed in the country—considerably altered in
preparing for publication—Letters of 24th Jan., 1809—variation of the title
suggested—notices of
The death of
Letters to his Mother—influence of his literary
repu-
Announcement to
Reluctance of
Retrospect—progress of the
publication—depression of
Anxiety for the success of the Poem—a review of
“Childe Harold” precedes the publication through delay
Evil consequences of the adulation with which
l.—contract voided, and 20,000l. forfeited—
The Giaour—
Death of
Circumstances have rendered it necessary to account to the
public for the appearance of the following Recollections in their present form. A work had
been announced as preparing for publication, entitled “
Under these circumstances, the public expectation has been disappointed,
and the interest which was created has been left unsatisfied; while, on the other hand, the
intended publication has been exposed to the charge of raising an expectation, and exciting
an interest, which it was improper and unlawful to gratify. The nature of the letters, and
memoirs themselves, has thus been left to the vague surmises which might be formed by every
thoughtless mind, pampered by the constant food of personality and scandal, which the press
has lately afforded in such abundance, and excited by the depraved character of many of
those works which
Thus situated, no one can deny that it became
The event proved the fallacy of human probability— * The body of the letter which he wrote upon this occasion, will
be found in the last chapter of this work, page 308. Although
“I hear that you have been presented with a frigate by
The next packet, however, brought
Having decided upon this, the materials were arranged accordingly; and
the * The introduction of
During the short stay which
The necessary arrangements being made,
On the 23d of June, however,
“I see by the newspapers, and I have
heard from other quarters, that it is your intention to publish a volume of
memoirs, interspersed with letters and other
“An intimacy of twenty years with his Lordship, may perhaps justify me in saying, that I am sure he would deprecate, had he any means of interfering, the exposure of his private writings, unless after very mature consultation with those who have the greatest interest in his fame and character, I mean his family and relations.
“I trust you will be so kind as to excuse me for my anxiety on this point, and for requesting you would have the goodness to make an early reply to this communication.
It is particularly to be remarked, that this letter is written without
professing to be by any other authority whatever than that which the writer’s
“intimacy” with the late “to be quite unpardonable;”
he has the
modesty to acknowledge that this is a liberty; but he takes a very much greater liberty
without any similar acknowledgment; he asserts, that “no man of honour and feeling
can for a moment entertain such an idea,”
as that which he writes to say he
has seen by the newspapers, and has heard from other quarters, “more immediate
friend;”
but that he does not hint at having any authority, and least of all,
the authority of an Executor; and this for the strongest possible reason, that he was not
then aware that he had been appointed
Very shortly after writing this letter,
“Mr. Knight
“I might have expected that as you are
not unacquainted with my father, his character would have been a sufficient
guarantee of the proper nature of any work which should appear before the
public under his direction; and I might naturally have hoped that it would have
guarded him from the suspicion of impropriety or indelicacy. In the present
case, both his general character as a christian and a gentleman, and his
particular connexion with the family of
“Since these causes have not had their
proper effect in your mind, it becomes necessary for me, as my father’s
representative and agent in the whole of this business, distinctly to state,
that the forthcoming correspondence of the late
“As to any fear for the character of
others who may be mentioned in the work, my father, Sir, is incapable of
publishing personalities; and
“The letters which
“Being charged by my father with the
entire arrangement of this publication, you may have occasion to write to me;
it may therefore be right to inform you that I have long since left the
profession in which I was
Although reply to
“I have just received a letter, of which
I inclose you a copy. I see by the direction, through what channel it has been
forwarded to me. As the letter is signed by the son of a gentleman, I would
answer it, could I do it in such a manner as to be of service to the mind of
the writer, but having no hope of that, I shall content myself with practising
the humility of putting up with it for the present. And here I should conclude
my letter to you, did I not, my dear madam, remember you not only as the sister
of my volume in the amiable
point of view that he ought and would have stood always but for his friends.
“It was my purpose to order a copy of the volume to be sent to you. As I trust you will do me the honour by a few lines, to let me know that it was not your intention to have me insulted, I will hope still to have that pleasure.
It has been attempted to throw all the blame, in the whole of the
subsequent transactions, upon this letter. Perhaps it might have been more desirable that
it should not have been written immediately upon the receipt of one which was felt as an
insult, however it might have been intended; and If (conditional) in the book I am about to publish, there is a sentence which can give you uneasiness I should
be totally at a loss to find it myself.’ Can any doubt exist after reading this?
‘As intended for publication.’—‘If I restore any portion.’ I have read the letter again,
and do not think it affords the ground for blame thrown upon me, after having thought well
of it.”
But besides that no such intention can fairly be gathered from the
letter, it must not be forgotten to be observed, that in stating that the manuscript, as
intended for posthumous publication, does contain some things which would give on her own account from any thing which was disclosed in
the original manuscript. The “contained observations upon or affecting persons now living, and
the publication of which is likely to occasion considerable pain to such
persons*,”
such an alarm was excited in the mind of
That a very great alarm was excited, which ultimately led to the legal
proceedings, is most certain. The letter was sent to the present * Quoted from the Bill in Chancery, filed by Messrs
“I was applied to for my opinion. I answered, that if they had good grounds
that any part of the work was likely to hurt the feelings of any relations, that the
work ought to be inspected by one or two of his
The
Previously, however, to any legal steps being pursued,
“I have to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 30th June, and am sorry to observe the spirit in which it was written.
“In consequence of the message you sent
me through as I still do, think
that it would be quite unpardonable to publish private letters of my poor
brother’s without previously consulting his family. I selected
I feel equal regret and surprise at your
thinking it necessary to call upon me to disclaim an intention of “
—having you insulted,”regret, that you should so entirely misunderstand my
feelings; and surprise, because after having repeatedly
read over
“Hoping that this explanation may prove satisfactory,
There are several curious points in this letter, to which it will be
necessary to draw the attention of the reader. “She (
He refers to that
communication, and repeats (in writing what before had been only
verbal) that “if in the book he was about to publish, there was a sentence which
should give her uneasiness, he should be totally at a loss to find it out
himself.”
The object of the message was, to assure intended publication; and yet, in referring to the message, and acknowledging the
receipt of a letter which contained a repetition of it in writing,
she only observes that it “confirmed the report of his
manuscript” and that, in consequence, she requested
But there is a still more extraordinary circumstance in this letter.
“On the 30th of June last, said plaintiff,
Thus it appears, that at the time of writing the letter in question,
she was not ignorant of that circumstance, since it was the special
motive which induced her to “select
The appearance of the Correspondence was promised to the public on the
12th of July, 1824; and it had nearly gone through the press when, on the 7th of July,
Messrs.
The deponents swear, that in the years 1809, 1810, and part of 1811,
“that such letters were principally of a private and
confidential nature, and none of them were intended to be published.”
That
“that they have
been informed, and verily believe, that the said
and that, in the course of such
correspondence, “many of which
were, as the said deponents believe, of a private and confidential
nature”
—“and that the said
And that, at the time of
Messrs. * The exact words of the affidavit are quoted when they
relate to important points, which will be afterwards referred to in this
narrative, that the reader may judge fairly for himself. “that
and disposed of “such pretended copyright” for a
considerable sum of money. Then the advertisement of the Correspondence is sworn to, and
the belief of the deponents to the identity of the letters advertised for publication, with
those before referred to in the affidavit. The affidavit goes on to affirm, “that the
said Robert Charles Dallas never apprised him the said deponent, soon
after the death of the as the said deponents verily believe, formed a scheme, or plan,
to print and publish the same, and with a view to such printing and publishing, pretended to be the absolute owner of all the said
letters,”“called on the said
the two
The affidavit next states, that the deponents verily believe that
“also wholly written and composed by the said
which has never been relinquished or
abandoned; and that
Then comes the following clause, “And the said deponents
verily believe, that the said several letters were written in
the course of private and confidential correspondence, and the said deponents believe
that many of them contain observations upon, or affecting, persons now living; and that
the publication of them is likely to occasion considerable pain to such
persons.”
The Affidavit closes with the affirmation that the publication in
question was intended to be made for the profit and advantage of the defendants; and
“that such publication was, as the deponents conceived and believed, a breach
of private confidence, and a violation of the rights of property,”
which, as
the representatives of
Previous to stating the reply to this Affidavit, it may not be improper to make some observations upon the nature of its contents. It contains matter of opinion; but no matter of fact relating to the point in question. There is a great deal of belief expressed, but not one reasonable ground upon which the belief is founded.
It is really a matter of surprise that any one should so implicitly
believe that to be fact, which, upon the face of the business, he can only suppose to be so. swears (and in this
case without the mention, that he verily believes; but as of his own knowledge,) “that such letters were
principally of a private and confidential nature.”
Any one might suppose that a man writing to his mother may write confidentially;
but few men would allow that supposition so much weight in their minds, as to enable them
to swear that it was so.
To the assertion respecting these unseen letters, “none of them were
intended to be published.”
If it is meant to say, that they were not written
with the intention of being published, as the sentence may seem to imply, nobody will deny
the fact. If they had been, they would not have con-
The same observation as that which has been made upon * He alludes to an affidavit relating principally to
this point, which he sent in this letter the moment he heard of swears “that “so far from thinking it wrong to publish such a
correspondence, I feel that it belongs in a manner to the public; and that I have no
right to withhold it. If the
Childe Harold
and of the
the Injunction; but which, not being sufficiently full upon other points, was not made use of in the legal proceedings.
“Again, why shouldLord Byron deposit these letters withmefor safe custody, when these two confidential friends were at hand, and other confidential friends, and his sister? There is an absurdity on the face of the assertion.”
It is not intended here to answer Mr. * It was understood that “that on the 23d June last, being soon after the
As the passage stands, it does not
appear whether deponents were informed of such intention, (of publishing,)
deponent, “the more immediate friend”
of
But the said deponents “
that verily
believe”“
What could possibly have been the grounds of a belief so firm,
that the persons believing come forward to attest it by affidavit in a Court of Justice?
The gravamen of the matter is, that the scheme was formed soon after soon after the death of
Lord Byron was known in
England”
When it was known that the injunction had been obtained, intelligence of
it was forwarded to
“This is to certify that
Robert Charles Dallas is now labouring under a very severe attack of inflammation of the chest, which was attended by fever and delirium;—that he is now under my professional care, and that his symptoms were of so dangerous a character as to render large bleedings ne-cessary, even at his advanced age. He is at present better, but certainly unable to undertake a journey. “Given under my hand at Paris, Rue du Mail, Hotel de Mars, this 11th day of July, 1824.
“ David Barry, M. D.”
In consequence of this unfortunate illness it became necessary to send
out a commission from the Court of Chancery, to receive
The Answer was founded upon several affidavits, of which the first was
that of “denies it to be true, that the letters of
And he further says,
that private nature, yet he swears that such matters of a private
nature were only occasionally and incidentally mentioned or alluded to, and did not
form the principal contents or subjects of the letters.”“to the best of his judgment and belief none of these letters are of a
or contain any matters
of such a nature. confidential or secret nature,”
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,
and
“at the times when the poems were preparing for or in the course of publication,”and that they
“contained or related to divers alterations, additions, and amendments which were from time to time made, or proposed to be made in the poems, or otherwise related to them,”—and that
“other parts of these letters related to matters of general literature, morals, and politics, and other subjects of a general nature, and the individual opinions and feelings ofand thatLord Byron ;”
“some very few parts of such letters related to other private matters, which were only occasionally and incidentally mentioned or alluded to therein, and did not form the principal contents or subjects of such letters, and were not in any respect of aconfidentialor secret nature.”
“in or about the
—
“Take them.—They are yours to do what you please with. Some day or other
they will be curiosities.”
From this * The sale of Newstead Abbey was the subject of these
conversations. “believes that
and further, “that at the time
of this gift
The deponent distinctly denies that the letters were left with him for
safe custody; and alleges that
The affidavit further states, that for several years previous to the
death of
These are the important parts of the affidavit made by “will be of considerable service to the cause of literature and
poetry, as being illustrative of many of the best
The affidavits of confidential nature.
The affidavit of the
The only other corroborative affidavit which the legal advisers thought
necessary to make use of, was one made by
From the substance of these affidavits, it may probably strike the
reader as singular, that
The
“
This affidavit received the sanction of
In consequence of what had taken place,
Upon immediate consultation with the he perfectly concurred in the spirit
of the proposed arrangement, and offered at once to submit the work to the
inspection of a friend of
“As to an executor’s
veto—shall an executor be
allowed to decide on the publication of a work (letters) on general topics, when it may
be enough that there is in it a difference of opinion on religion, morality, or
politics? This is an argument which should be strongly urged. I see neither law nor
equity in such a veto, yet do not deny either, if the letters
are libellous; but
While
“
Mr. Dallas has no objection to insert the following advertisement after the title page of the work.
“ADVERTISEMENT. “The publication of this work having been delayed in consequence of an injunction from the Court of Chancery, obtained on the application of the executors of
Lord Byron , it is proper to state upon their authority that the work had not been submitted to their inspection, when they entertained their objection to its publication; but that, having since been made acquainted with its contents, they have withdrawn their objection, and consented to the dissolution of the injunction.”“If the objection of the executors of the late
Lord Byron be, that the publication of this work should not be drawn into a precedent by others, for giving to the world their improper and unauthorised compilations relative toLord Byron , it is presumed that this advertisement will be considered sufficient for that purpose.“If the executors do not consider this to be sufficient for that purpose,
Mr. Dallas would only object to the words‘published by permission of the executors of the latebeing printed with the work, inasmuch as it may seem to acknowledge a property as belonging to the executors, which he does not acknowledge to belong to them—but to meet the supposed object of the executors, as above stated,Lord Byron ,’Mr. Dallas will consent to the insertion of those words, if the executors will sign a paper to the following effect:—“‘We, the executors of the late
Lord Byron , hereby assign and make over toR. C. Dallas , his heirs, executors, or assigns, all and every interest, property, right, claim, or demand whatsoever, (if any suchwe have,) in such letters of the saidLord Byron as are inserted in a work, entitled ‘Private Correspondence of Lord Byron , &c. &c.’ whether such letters are addressed to the saidR. C. Dallas , or toMrs. Catherine Gordon Byron , the mother of the saidLord Byron .’”
In the mean time, however, the two executors had consulted together, and
“I saw
This opening being thus closed up, the answer and affidavits were filed.
Whether the question of negotiation was laid before counsel or not,
The first was the affidavit of “that when he was with
‘You know
or to that effect.”
To this assertion
It was really necessary that
But no; this was not
It is somewhat singular that leaving papers and letters, several boxes
containing great quantities of them, as is afterwards sworn, which he considered of more
consequence than the goods and chattels of which his creditors had deprived him, with
a very small bundle of particular letters, and left them,
and them only, in the charge of another person nearly two years before he went abroad. So
small and particular a selection from the great mass of his papers seems strange, unless,
having high value for them, he did not consider that which was safe
custody for his other papers was safe custody
for these. But there is a stranger circumstance, too, which under the supposition that the
letters were so left for special safe custody when he was going abroad, is not only strange
but absolutely unaccountable. In the autumn of the same year, 1814, on which this sacred
deposit was supposed to be made, and only a few months after, the person to whom this
precious charge was given, took the very step, the intention of doing which is said to have
produced the deposit. He left the country and went abroad; and on the day before he set off
from London, in conversation with
But to come nearer to the time mentioned in Fletcher’s affidavit,
that in which his conversation occurred with
The next affidavit is really ludicrous; it is sworn by the “that for several months prior, and down to the time of
It is truly absurd to see how all
monthly friends
prostitute the word intimacy. The
“Saith, that about three months before said
“Saith, that said
The intimacy is somewhat new, and will, of course, have sufficient
weight to prevent any but the two persons who are properly qualified from writing any thing
about
After this “that for the space of seventeen years previous,
and down to the time of the death of the above-named
He goes on to swear, “That
If this assertion is good for any thing, for safe
custody; for, if in the course of such confidential communication, as is here
described, his Lordship never mentioned to does swear that not tell him that he had given the letters to does not
swear that nothing.
“that
This point also forms the opening assertion of the next deponent, the
When a lady swears merely to her remembrance, she may very innocently
make a mistake in a year, especially after the lapse of ten years since the circumstance
took place. But, in this case, to the knowledge of the deponent,” therefore we are
bound, not only to believe what he asserts, but to under-all the difference in the matter, he must have consulted any
memorandums he may have made, referred to pocket-books or letters, so as to convince
himself from some more tangible data than that furnished by memory, that it really was
“about June, 1814,” and not “
that the intention of going abroad
existed in about June, 1813,”
These observations have arisen from a singular coincidence. Amongst the
late
Lot 151 A silver sepulchral urn, made with great taste. Within it are contained human bones, taken from a tomb within the long wall of Athens, in the month of February, 1811. The urn weighs 187 oz. 5 dwt.
Lot 152 A silver cup, containing
according to the direction of the witches in Macbeth. The hemlock was plucked at Athens by the noble proprietor, in 1811.—The silver cup weighs 29 oz. 8 dwts.“Root of hemlock gathered in the dark,”
The title-page of this catalogue is as follows:—about
to leave England on a tour to the Morea. To which are added a silver
sepulchral urn, containing relics brought from Athens, in 1811; and a silver cup, the
property of the same noble person; which will be sold by auction by R. H. Evans, at his
house, No. 26, Pall Mall, on Thursday, July 8th, and the following day. Catalogues to be
had, and the books viewed at the place of sale.”
So far this all corroborates the statement made in the two affidavits
under consideration, that * The gift of the letters to “
This may possibly be a typographical error, and this sale of books may
really have been a part of the preparation for going abroad, which Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. Cleveland-row, St. James’s,
1813.”annual preparation for leaving England about
June. If any reader happens to know of a similar preparation made by
The object of “
That statement
would altogether fall to the ground if being about to leave the country.”knowledge
of the fact, did not mention or allude to some of the tangible data, upon which he
doubtless established that know-remembrance of
nothing.
This honourable lady, upon her oath, declares also, that she
“believes that such letters were left or deposited, by
—that is to say, she swears that she does not
believe belief sworn to in this affidavit. But
the
The * It is owing to this circumstance that no report of the
cause has appeared in the public papers. v.
“
—In the case of Lord Chancellor.Hobhouse andDallas , I shall reserve my judgment on one point till Wednesday, because I think it an extremely difficult point. But upon the point, whether this gentleman can publish the letters thatLord Byron wrote to himself, I cannot say that it is possible for him to be allowed to do that. I apprehend the law, as it has been settled with respect to letters—the property in letters is, (and whether that was a decision that could very well have stood at first or not, I will not undertake to say, but it is so settled, therefore I do not think I ought to trouble myself at all about it,) that if A. writes a letter to B., B. has the property in that letter, for the purpose of reading and keeping it, but no property in it to publish it; and, therefore, the consequence of that is, that unless the point which relates to the letters that were written by LordByron to his mother is a point that can be extended to the letters written byLord Byron to this gentleman himself,—unless the point on the first case affect the point on the second, it appears to me that the letters written to himself clearly fall within that rule which I am now alluding to.“The other is a thing which, after carefully reading the bill, and answers of these gentlemen who propose to be the publishers, I have formed an inclination of opinion about it, but which I will not at this moment express, because I think that opinion must be wrong, unless it is founded on every word that is to be found in all the answer relative to the transaction of
Lord Byron’s putting these letters into the hands ofMr. Dallas . That is a point on which I would rather reserve my opinion till Wednesday morning, and then I will conclude it with respect to that question. With respect to the letters written to himself, I confess I entertain no doubt at all about it. And there is another circumstance too, I think, which is, that it is a very different thing with respect to letters written byLord Byron to his mother—it isa very different thing, as it appears to me, publishing as information what those letters may have communicated as matters of fact, and publishing the letters themselves. If you are here on Wednesday morning, I will give you my judgment on the point which I have reserved, and if you are not here, I will give it on Saturday.” “
Counsel.—Then of course the injunction continues as to the letters written toMr. Dallas himself?”“
—Yes; and with respect to the others that will stand over till Wednesday. I don’t see if an action was brought against Lord Chancellor.Mr. Dallas for publishing the other letters, I don’t see how he could defend that action; for the question about the other letters depends entirely, I think, on what is supposed to have passed between himself andLord Byron alone; and, therefore, if an action was brought against him, there could be no evidence at all that would take his case out of the reach of the law.”
These are the words of the
That no step might be omitted which could by possibility enable
“As the
“The favour of an immediate answer is requested, addressed under cover to our solicitors, Messrs. S. Turner and Son, Red Lion-square.
In consequence of this letter written by the parties to the executors
themselves, Messrs. Turner and Son, the solicitors to those parties, received the following
letter, without a date, from
“I am
directed by the executors of the late
This letter having closed every possible avenue by which the
correspondence could be given to the British public, as had been promised, Recollections will, it
is hoped, sufficiently establish the propriety of the intended publication as far as
relates to the nature of its contents; this statement is now given
to the public with a view to prove the propriety of
After the full statement that has been made, it will not be necessary
to detain the reader much longer from the perusal of the Recollections themselves. There
are, however, three points to which the private” and “confidential”
The parties who oppose the publication of the correspondence made use of them as
synonymous; against this use of them, the parties who intended the publication distinctly
protest. The private letters of a public man
are those in which, unrestrained by the present intention of
publication to the world, he naturally and inartificially conveys his thoughts, sentiments,
and opinions to a friend. Can it be said that when a man’s celebrity has raised him
from his peculiar circle to belong to the unlimited one of all mankind, and when his death
has made him the subject of history, and rendered the development of his character
interesting to all the world, it is a private letters so written? Confidential letters are those in which any man intrusts that which at the time
he would not make known, to the keeping and secrecy of one in whom he confides. Such
letters, it is a breach of confidence, and highly dishonourable, to publish. The editor
submits these definitions to the criticism of the public; and by them he wishes the matter
in question to be tried. Messrs. without ever having
read one word of the letters proposed to be published, swear, that they are confidential, and that the publication of them would be a
breach of honour and confidence. after having carefully
read over all the letters, swear, that they are not
confidential. private, according to the above definition, but he publishes them
because they are so; if they were not they would not be worth
publishing now. But had they been confidential, no inducement on
earth would have prevailed with
The second point to be attended to is the reluctance of veto, over a work, in which those subjects
were more or less discussed. For this reason he refused to submit the work in question to
Messrs.
The third point to be mentioned is that, after reading this narrative,
it cannot but be painful to be forced to the conviction that the opposition of the
executors amounts, by their own confession in the affidavits, to a matter
of property only. They cannot venture to say, in the face of all the evidence
adduced as to the nature of the work, that they oppose its publication in tenderness to
unsanctioned publication. They, therefore, are forced to
acknowledge, as they do in the course of these proceedings, that their opposition is a matter of property,—that is to say, that they want to make
the most of these letters for the benefit of the late
* It is hardly possible to be believed that all these oaths, as of
knowledge upon surmisings, have for their object to add a few hundreds to the hundred
thousand of pounds that of the half blood, she being married, and of course naturally
bound only to expect and to follow the fortunes of her
No one, under all the circumstances, can doubt, morally speaking, that
Childe
Harold was approaching, his arguments were urged with more force,
and
Pilgrimage
was one of the first steps towards a renewal of intercourse; and the kind and
affectionate terms in which that gift was expressed, as mentioned in the following
Recollections, were the result of feelings which
* The result of this union, so produced,
has been, that moral right, has applied the money procured by the sale of
Newstead Abbey, to enrich his moral right, because the grant of Newstead was made
by Henry VIII., to his ancestor, as the representative, at that time, of a very ancient
and honourable family, which was afterwards ennobled by James I.,
The Lord Chancellor’s decision sets the question of law at rest;
and the having the estate, as well as that of
Rochdale, in possession, to support the title so given. in collateral descent, he being the grand nephew only of his
cousin, to succeed him, but only a grand nephew, his Lordship would have
been the first to have felt the moral injustice done him. intentional
contempt of that Court. To prevent such a supposition, which would be very far from the
truth, the Editor has only to declare, that the arrangements for publication with Messrs.
A. and W.
“You may, perhaps, remember my calling
at your house when I was in Paris some time ago. I write at present to inform
you, that I have some very interesting manuscripts of
“With regard to the interest of the work, you cannot, it is true, judge of that without a more particular communication; but all I wish at present to know is, whether you would enter into this speculation, if the manuscripts prove to possess great interest. I would give you a sight of them, if the distance between us did not prevent it, but in the course of this week they go to London.
“When I was in Paris, I gave you a print
of
After arranging for the publication in England,
As, in the first page of this work, it is asserted that
“I find in the newspapers that on the urn to have
been born in London. The year previous to the January when he was born, I was on a visit to
Lord Byron
At the end of the year 1807, some of my family observed in the newspapers
extracts from Hours of Idleness. I ordered the volume, which I
received on the 27th of December. I read it with great pleasure; and, if it is not saying
too much for my own judgment, discerned in it marks of the genius which
“Your
Your Poems, my Lord, are not only beautiful as
compositions;—they bespeak a heart glowing with honour, and attuned to
virtue, which is infinitely the higher praise. Your addresses to Newstead
Abbey, a place about which I have often conversed with your
I wish, my Lord, that it had been within your plan, and that
you had been permitted Nouvelle
Heloise by me, but I translate the passage from an
Essay on Romances
by
“No chaste young woman,” saysOn thisRousseau , “ever reads novels, and I have given this a title sufficiently expressive to show, on opening it, what is to be expected. She who, in spite of that title, shall dare to read a single page of it isa lost young woman:but let her not impute her ruin to this book; the mischief was done before, and as she has begun let her read to the end; she has nothing more to risk*.”
* “
Having perhaps already trespassed too much on your time, I
will not pursue this subject further, but content myself with referring your
Lordship to the Essay which I have cited for an admirable critique on
And now, my Lord, shall I conclude with an apology for my
letter? If I thought one necessary I would burn it: yet I should feel myself
both delighted and honoured if I were sure your Lordship would be better
pleased with its being put into the post than
latter. The
events of his short life had been singular, and had had the effect of causing him to be
held up as the votary of licenti-
This communication, while it highly gratified me, was calculated to excite a strong desire to know more of the character and feelings of a young man who evinced so much genius, and who gave such an account of the results of a life which had not yet occupied twenty years. I immediately expressed my feelings in the following letter, dated January 21, 1808:—
“I am much indebted to the impulse that incited me to write to you, for the new pleasure it has procured me.
Though your letter has made some alteration in the portrait
my imagination had painted, it has in two points heightened it; the candour
with which you decline praise you think you do not deserve, and your
declaration that you should be happy to merit it, convince me that you have
been very injudiciously compared to the real happiness. I write
principally to thank you for the honour you intend me by a gift of the new
edition of your poems, which I shall be happy to receive; and to say that I
mean to avail myself of your expressions relative to a meeting, to pay my
compliments to you in Albemarle-street, in the course of a few days.
While the pen is in my hand, I will just say that my mention
of shall not be like him, except in
eloquence. Pardon this last effusion.”
By the return of the post which took this letter to him I received a
reply, professing to give a more particular account of his studies, opinions, and feelings,
written in a playful style, and containing rather flippant observations made for the sake
of antitheses, than serious remarks intended to convey information. The letter may be
considered as characteristic of his prose style in general, possessing the germ of his
satire without the bitterness of its maturity, and the pruriency of his wit uncorrected by
the hand of experience. Though written in so light and unserious a tone as prevents the wicked
I considered these expressions of feeling, though evidently grounded on
some occurrences in the still earlier part of his life, rather as jeux
d’esprit than as a true portrait. I called on him on the 24th of January,
and was delighted with the interview. In a few days, the 27th, I dined with him, and was
more and more pleased with him. I saw nothing to warrant the character he had given of
himself; on the contrary, when a young fellow-collegian, who dined with us, introduced a
topic on which I did not hesitate to avow my orthodoxy, he very gracefully diverted the
conversation from the channel of ridicule which it had begun to take, and partly combated
on my side; engrafted, for I think he was
inoculated by the young pridelings of intellect, with whom he associated at the University.
In the course of the spring he left town, and I did not see him or hear from him for
several months.
In the beginning of the next year, I was agreeably surprised on receiving
a note from him, dated January 20th, at Reddish’s Hotel, St. James’s-street,
requesting to see me on the morning of the Sunday following. I did not fail to keep the
appointment. It Childe HaroldEdinburgh Review
The work which
The British Bards, A Satire. It contained the original
groundwork of his well-known
“I have read your
I think in general with you of the literary merit of the
writers introduced. I am particularly pleased with your distinction in
As you have given me the flattering office of looking over
your poem with more than a common reader’s eye, I shall scrutinize, and
suggest any change I may think advantageous. And, in the first place, I propose
to you an alteration of the title. ‘The British
Bards’ immediately brings to the imagination those who were slain by the
first
I enclose a few other alterations of passages, straws on the surface, which you would make yourself were you to correct the press.
I will also take the liberty of sending you some two dozen
lines, which, if they neither offend your ear nor your judgment, I wish you
would adopt, on account of the occasion which has prompted them*. I am
acquainted with * In his answer to this letter
I shall delay the printing as little as possible; but I have
some apprehension as to the readiness of my publishers to undertake the sale,
for they have a large portion of the work of the Joan of ArcMadocThalaba
evinces genius.
I see your Muse has given a couplet to your Satiristone among the peers on whom relation of yours.
I am sorry you have not found a place among the genuine Sons
of line, or lay, for life:
Pray answer as soon as you conveniently can, and believe me ever,”
line and sin
no more*.’ &c. &c.
The couplet to which I referred as having been given by his Muse to his
noble relation, was one of panegyric upon * In the original the words were * I have here given the exact copy of the original manuscript
which is before me. “mend thy
life.”
He however adopted the word line.
Immediately upon receiving my letter he forwarded four lines to substitute for this
couplet.
He said that this alteration would answer the purposes of concealment; but it was
other feelings than the desire of concealment which induced him afterwards to alter the two
last lines into
This passage, together with the two notes which accompanied it in the publication of
the Poem, and in which
Besides the alteration of the panegyrical couplet upon &c. &c.
As to the title of the Poem, English Bards and
Scotch Reviewers”
Upon taking the Satire to my publishers, Messrs. Longman and Co., they
declined publishing it in consequence of its asperity, a circumstance to which he
afterwards adverted in very strong language, making it the only condition with which he
accompanied his gift to me of the copyright of Childe Harolds Pilgrimage
In reading
Previously, however, to giving the copy to me, he had altered the fifth line with his
pen, making the couplet to stand thus:
and then he had drawn his pen through the four lines, beginning
and had written the following in their place.
I confess I was surprised to find the name of
In another instance, his feeling towards me induced him carefully to cover over with a
paper eight lines, in which he had severely satirized a gentleman with whom he knew that I
was in habits of intimacy, and to erase a note which belonged to them.
It is not difficult to observe the working of
He afterwards altered the whole of this passage except the two first lines, and in its
place appeared the following:—
I have very little doubt that the alteration of the whole of this passage was
occasioned by the reference to
In
These he erased and began,
With this exception, and an omission about
“I have received your lines*, which shall be inserted
in the proper place. May I say that I question whether
own and disown be an
allowable rhyme?
You see I cannot let any thing pass; but this only proves to you how much
I feel interested.
* Those complimenting the translators of the
I have inserted the note on the kilted goddess; still I
would fain have it omitted. My first objection was, that it was a fiction in
prose, too wide of fact, and not reconcileable with your own praises of
Caledonian genius. Another objection now occurs to me, of no little importance.
There seems at present a disposition in Scotland to withdraw support from the
I trust you will approve of what I have done with the
I have no doubt of the Poem being read in every quarter of
the United Kingdom, provided, however, you do not
affront Caledonia.”
* The whole of the profits were left to the publisher without
purchase.
But he protested against giving up his note of notes, as he called it, his solitary
pun. I answered him as follows, in a letter dated February 7, 1809:—
“On another perusal of the objectionable note, I find that the omission of two lines only would render it inoffensive—but, as you please.
I observed to you that in the opening of the
will perhaps strike you, on reconsidering the line, to want alteration.
You may make the river-god act without cutting him in two: you may make him
ruffle half his stream to yield a tear†.
‘
Hoyle, which is not your meaning—say,
The primary and obvious sense ofEarth’s chief dictatress, Ocean’s lonely queen”—
* He inserted the following couplet—
† The line was printed thus—
I mention these little points to you now, because there is time to do as you please. I hope to call on you to-morrow; if I do not, it will be because I am disappointed of the proof.”
During the printing of the * He changed it to “mighty.”
and he sent them to me early on the following morning, with a request to have them
inserted after the lines concerning
To the
The poet considereth times past and
their poesy—maketh a sudden transition to times present—is incensed
against book-makers—revileth
I now saw “Poor
I saw his mind teeming with benevolent intentions—and they
were not abortive. If ever an
The remembrance of the impression produced on
The “I am glad you happened to come in;
I am going to take my seat, perhaps you will go with me.”
I expressed my
readiness to attend him; while, at the same time, I concealed the shock I felt on thinking
that this young man, who, by birth, fortune, and talent, stood high in life, should have
lived so unconnected and neglected by persons of his own rank, that there was not a single
member of the senate to which he belonged, to whom he could or would apply to introduce him
in a manner becoming his birth. I saw that he felt the situation, and I fully partook his
indignation. If the neglect he had met with be imputed to an untoward or vicious
disposition, a character which he gave himself, and which I understood was also given to
him by others, it is
After some talk about the “If I
had shaken hands heartily, he would have set me down for one of his party—but I
will have nothing to do with any of them, on either side; I have taken my seat, and now
I will go abroad.”
We returned to St. James’s-street, but he did not
recover his spirits.
“The essence of what I have to say was comprised in
the few lines I wrote to you in the cover of my letter to
In the first place, notwithstanding our precautions, you are
already pretty generally he believe it? Yes, he did. On asking the ground of his
belief, he told me that a lady of distinction had, without hesitation, asked
for it as
Antijacobin, as well as
the
The success of the *
than the dignified revenge of genius, I en-
“Not being certain that I shall see you to-day, I
write to tell you that I am angry with myself on finding that I have more
deference for form, than friendship for the author of ‘will
not let you print them. I am going to dine in St. James’s-place
to-day at five o’clock, and in the hope of having a battle with you, I
will be in St. James’s-street about four.”
Very soon after this the “A large family,” he said, “appeared like opposite ingredients
mixed perforce in the same salad, and he never relished the composition.”
Unfortunately, having never mingled in family circles, he knew nothing of them; and, from
being at first left out of them by his relations, he was so completely disgusted that he
avoided them, especially the female part. “I consider,” said he,
“collateral ties as the work of prejudice, and not the bond of the heart, which
must choose for itself unshackled.”
It was in vain for me to argue that the
nursery, and a similarity of pursuits and enjoyments in early life, are the best
foundations of friendship and of love; and that to choose freely, the knowledge of home was
as requisite as “I have just met
At this period of his life his mind was full of bitter discontent. Already
satiated with pleasure, and disgusted with those companions who have no other resource, he
had resolved on mastering his appetites; he broke up his harams; and he reduced his palate
to a diet the most simple and abstemious; but the passions of the heart were too mighty,
nor did it ever enter his mind to them: resentment, anger, and hatred held full sway over him, and his greatest
gratification at that time was in overcharging his pen with gall, which flowed in every
direction against individuals, his country, the world, the universe, creation, and the
Creator. He might have become, he ought to have been, a different creature; and he but too
well accounts for the unfortunate bias of his disposition in the following
I took leave of him on the 10th of June, 1809, and he left London the next morning:
his objects were still unsettled; but he wished to hear from me particularly on the subject
of the Satire, and promised to inform
Leaving England with a soured mind, disclaiming all attachments, and even
belief in the existence of friendship, it will be no wonder if it shall be found that
“Some day or other they will be curiosities.”
They are written in an
easy style, and if they do not contain all that is to be expected from a traveller, what
they do contain of that nature is pleasant; and they strongly mark the character of the
writer.
The Letters which
These letters were the only ones Lord
From the moment that the publication of
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
placed him, as it were, by the wand of an enchanter, upon an elevated pedestal in the
Temple of Fame, he could not write any thing even in familiar correspondence, which was not
It is, therefore, in the natural turn of thought, not shewn forth by any
expression of decided opinions, but rather permitted to be seen in the light touches and
unpremeditated indications of feeling, with which these letters abound, that the original
character of
At Newstead, just before his coming of age, he planned his future travels;
and his original intention included a much larger portion of the world than that which he
afterwards visited. He first thought of Persia, to which idea indeed he for a long time
adhered. He afterwards meant to sail for India; and had so far contemplated this project as
to write for information from the
While at Newstead at this time, and in contemplation of his intended
departure, he made a will which he meant to have formally executed as soon as he came of
age. In it he made a proper provision for his for her
life. How different a will from that which, with so different a mind and heart, he
really executed seven years afterwards!
A short time after this a proposal was made to him by his
He left London in June, 1809; and his acute sensibility being deeply
wounded at his
The objects that he met with in his journey as far as Gibraltar, seemed
to have occupied his mind, to the exclusion of his gloomy and misanthropic thoughts; for
the letter which he wrote to his mother from thence contains no indication of them, but, on
the contrary, much playful description of the scenes through which he had passed. The
beautiful Stanzas, from the 16th to the 30th of the first Canto of
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,
are the exact echoes of the thoughts which occurred to his mind at the time, as he went
over the spot described. In going into the library of the convent of Mafra the monks
conversed with him in Latin, and asked him whether the
At Seville
Upon arriving at Yanina, Lay of the Last Minstrel. The different
objects which presented themselves to his view when arriving at the Pacha’s
palace,—the Albanians in their superb costume—the Tartars and the Turks with
their separate peculiarities of dress—the row of two hundred horses, ready
caparisoned, waiting in a large open gallery—the couriers which the stirring interest
of the neighbouring siege made to pass in and out constantly—the military
music—the boys repeating the hour from the Minaret of the Mosque,—are all
faithfully and exactly described as he saw them, in the 55th and following stanzas, to the
60th of the second Canto of
He was lodged in the palace, and the next day introduced to
In going in a Turkish ship of war, provided for him by “I wish
you to love me, not to pay me.”
At Yanina, on his return, he was introduced to
It was not until after fear that these feelings might excite in him a gipsy-like wandering
disposition, which would make him uncomfortable at home, knowing such to be frequently the
case with men in the habit of travelling. He had mixed with persons in all stations in life
had lived amongst the most splendid, and sojourned with the poorest, and found the people
harmless and hospitable. He had passed some time with the principal Greeks in the Morea and
Livadia, and he classed them as inferior to the Turks, but superior to the Spaniards, whom
he placed before the Portuguese. At Constantinople, his judgment of “St. Paul’s would cut a strange
figure by St. Sophia’s.”
He felt the great interest which St.
Sophia’s possesses from various
When
his man of business, from whom he had never
once heard since his departure from England, in spite of the critical situation of his
affairs; and yet, it is remarkable with how much patience he bore with circumstances, which
certainly were calculated to excite the anger of one of less irritable disposition than his
own.
Whether it were owing to his having been left alone to his own
reflections, or whether it be merely attributable to the uneven fluctuations of an
unsettled mind, it appears that gratified when he found that
England was superior in any thing. This shows the latent spark of
patriotism in his heart.
He wished when he returned to England to lead a quiet and retired life;
in thinking of which, his mind involuntarily acknowledged that God knew, but arranged the
best for us all. This acknowledgment seemed to call forth the remembrance of his acquired
infidelity; and, for the sake of
I have already said, that
Previous to his return to England, the proposal to sell Newstead was
renewed. His
Early in July, 1811, I received a letter from
Southey
Kirke White
Genius, we well know, is not the exclusive inheritance of the affluent,
but without a considerable degree of education it has not the means of displaying itself,
especially in poetry, where the flowers of language are almost, as essential as the visions
of fancy. Rhetoric and grammar are not necessary in mechanics and mathematics, but they
must be possessed by the Poet, whose title to genius may be overturned by the confusion of
metaphors and the incongruities of tropes. I believe all the Poets of low origin partook,
more or less, of the advantages of education. The last of these was “I see,”
says the latter, “that
In my reply, I said, “With respect
to
Which two lines, with a scratch under last.
last, to shew where
the joke lies, I beg that you will prevail on “You seem
Upon receiving
“I called this morning at Reddish’s Hotel, with
the hope of hearing something of you, since which your letter, written at sea,
has been delivered to me. On Monday I trust I shall have the pleasure of
welcoming you in person back to England. I hope you will find more pleasure in
it than you seem to promise yourself. I pity you indeed for the bustle that
awaits you in the arrangement of your affairs. I wish you would allow me to
recommend to you a gentleman whom I have long known; a man of the strictest
honour; a man of business; and one of the best middling run. Some letters have passed between
On the 15th of July I had the pleasure of shaking hands with him at
Reddish’s Hotel, in St. James’s-street. I thought his looks belied the report
he had given me of his bodily health, and his countenance did not betoken melancholy, or
displeasure at his return. He was very animated in the account of his travels, but assured
me he had never had the least idea of writing them. He said he believed satire to be his
forte, and to that he had adhered, having written, during his
stay at different places abroad, a paraphrase of
Horace’s Art of Poetry, which would be a good finish to
“in fine phrenzies rolling.”But the poem was his, and the affection he had acquired in my heart was undiminished.
The following lines are inserted as a fair specimen of it. It began thus:—
* “Where pure description holds the place of
sense.”
—Pope.
* Mere common mortals were commonly content with one tailor and one bill; but the more finished gentlemen found it impossible to confide their lower garments to the makers of their body-clothes. I speak of the beginning of 1809; what reform may have since taken place I neither know nor desire to know.
*
* Old ballads, old plays, and old women’s
stories, are at present in as much request as old wine or newspapers: in
fact, this is the millennium of black-letter; thanks to our WebersScotts!
* Swift’s
† With all the vulgar applause and critical
abhorrence of puns, they have
* About two years ago, a young man, named TownsendMr.
CumberlandCumberland
“Of man’s first disobedience and the fruit”
or MiltonBlackmareHomerAntimachusTownsend’s
The above note was written before the author was
apprised of Cumberland’s
In not disparaging this poem, however, next day, I could
not refrain from expressing some surprise that he had written nothing else: upon which he
told me that he had occasionally written short poems, besides a great many stanzas in
“They are not worth troubling you with, but you shall
have them all with you if you like.”
Childe Harold’s
Pilgrimage. He took it from a small trunk, with a number of verses. He
said they had been read but by one person, who had found very little to commend, and
much to condemn: that he himself was of
“You have written one of the most delightful poems I
ever read. If I wrote this in flattery, I should deserve your contempt rather
than your friendship. Remember, I depend upon your considering me superior to
it. I have been so fascinated with
“It was any
thing but poetry—it had been condemned by a good critic—had I not
myself seen the sentences on the margins of the manuscript?”
He at length seemed impressed by my
which, in the course of our contention, he sent me, to be inserted after the sceptical
The publication of it being determined upon, my first thought respecting
a publisher was to give it to “
I could not accord in the opinion, but I yielded of course to
his wish. It was but a step; I carried it up to protest
“Within is my formal protest
against the sceptical stanzas of your poem. You have seen no symptoms of a
Puritan in me; I have seen none of a Scoffer in you.—You, I know, can
endure my sincerity; I should be sorry if I could not appreciate yours. You
have the uncommon virtue of not being anxious to make others think as you do on
religious topics; I, less disinterested, have the greatest desire, not without
great hope, that you may one day think as I do.”
The Protest of R. C.
Dallas against certain Sceptical Stanzas in the Poem
entitled Childe Harold’s
Pilgrimage.
Dissentient—
Because—Although among feeble and corrupt men
religions may take their turn; although
Because—Although bound for a term to the earth, it is
natural to hope, and rational to expect, existence in another world; since, if
it be not so, the noblest attributes of God, justice and goodness, must be
subtracted from our ideas of the great Creator; and although our senses make us
acquainted
Because—Although a skull well affords a subject for moralizing; although in its worm-eaten, worm-disdained state, it is so far from being a temple worthy of a God, that it is unworthy of the creature whom it once served as the recess of wisdom and of wit; and although no saint, sage, or sophist can refit it,—it does not follow that God’s power is limited, or that what is sown in corruption may not be raised in incorruption, that what is sown a natural body may not be raised a spiritual body.
Because—The same authority,
Because—Although there is good sense and a kind
intention expressed in these words:—“I am no sneerer at thy
phantasy,” “Thou pitiest me, alas! I envy
thee,”—and “I ask thee not to prove a Saducee;”
yet the intention is counteracted by the sentiments avowed, and the example
published, by which the young and the wavering may be detained in the
wretchedness of doubt, or confirmed in the despair of unbelief.
Because—I think of the author of the poem as “
Consequently, I think that he
will, one day, be sorry for publishing such opinions.
At every step which I take in my task of submitting to the
public my Recollections of
“On my return home last night, I received your letter,
which renewed in my mind some of the most painful ideas which for many years
accompanied me, or took place of all others; which, in spite of Philosophy,
and, yes, my lord, in spite of Religion, rendered my life wretched; and which
time, in bringing me nearer to eternity, has softened to such a degree, that
they are now far from being painful. But you deprecate the subject, and I will
not enlarge upon it, though one I take some delight in. You have, indeed, had
enough within a very short time, to make you prefer any other: yet I en
militaire
The funeral pile, the ashes preserved by the asbestos, and
inurned, are circumstances more pleasing to the imagination than a box, a hole,
and worms; but when the vivifying principle has ceased to act, let me say, when
the soul is separated from the chemical elements which constitute body, Reason
says it is of little importance what becomes of them. Even in burning, we
cannot save all the body from mixing with other natures: by the flames much is
carried off into the atmosphere, and falls again to the earth to fertilize it,
and sustain worms. Nay, in the entombed box, perhaps, the dust is at last more
purely preserved; for though, in the course of decomposition, it gives a
temporary existence to a loathsome creature, yet, in time, the rioted worm dies
too, and gives back to the mass
mark of an immortal creature in
whatever he did, and yet he was gone—that such a man should have been given
over to death, so early in life, bewildered him. In referring to the honours
indeed offensively
so, for he did not scruple to avow his opinions in all companies.
Once only did ’Are you aware that your religion is impious?’
&c., incited me to a determination, in spite of the indolence I begin to feel on
argumentative topics, to call you a purblind philosopher, and to
break a lance with you in defence of a cause on which I rest so much hope. I still dread
that my feebleness may be laid to the account, and esteemed the feebleness of the cause
itself.
“By proposing to drop metaphysics you cut down the
much I meditated. I will not pursue them at present, though I think them the prime
subjects of intellectual enjoyment. But, though I drop my point, instead of couching my
lance, I do not mean to say that I will not yet try my strength. Meanwhile, though neither
all
anxious to be saved—all, at least, willing to be on terra
firma; the
“How are we to ascertain the truth of them? Not by arguing
mathematically, but by first examining the proofs adduced; and if they are satisfactory, to
use our reasoning powers, as far as they will go, to clear away the difficulties which may
attend them. This is the only mode of investigating with any hope of conviction. It is, to
return to my metaphor, the beach on which we may find a footing, and be able to look around
us; on which breach, I trust, I shall one day or other see you taking your stand. I have
done—and pray observe, that I have kept my word—I have not entered on
metaphysics on the subject of Revelation. I have merely stated the erroneous proceeding of
freethinking Philosophy; and, on the other hand, the natural and rational proceeding of the
mind in the inquiry after truth:
“So,” quoting St. Paul, “let us eat and
drink, for to-morrow we die;”
—he felt satisfied in his creed, for it
was better to sleep than to wake.
Such were the opinions which occasionally manifested themselves in this
unhappy young man, and which gave me a degree of pain proportioned to the affection I could
not but feel for him; while my hopes of his ultimately breaking from the trammels of
infidelity, which were never relinquished, received from time to time fresh excitement from
some expressions that appeared to me to have an opposite tendency. He frequently recurred
to his
The mention of
This he said, without wishing to cavil himself, but other people would; he
nevertheless hoped, that
as God knew, committed many excesses,
but as he had determined to amend, and latterly kept to his determination, this young man
must follow his example. He insisted that the seducer should restore the unfortunate girl
to society.
The manner in which
While he was still continuing at Newstead, he wrote me a letter, which
affected me deeply, upon the occasion of another death with which he was shocked—he
lost “I have almost forgot the
taste of grief, and supped full of horrors.”
He
“Your letter of the 11th made such an impression upon me, that I felt as if I had a volume to say upon it; yet, it is but too true, that the sensibility which vents itself in many words carries with it the appearance of affectation, and hardly ever pleases in real life. The few sentences of your letter relative to the death of friends, and to your feelings, excited in my mind no common degree of sympathy; but I must be content to express it in a common way, and briefly.
Death has, indeed, begun to draw your attention very early.
I hardly knew what it was, or thought of it till I went at the age of
five-and-twenty to reside in the West Indies, and there he began to show
himself to me frequently. My friends, young and old, were carried to the grave
with a rapidity that astonished me, and I was myself in a manner snatched out
of his grasp. This, and the other sad concomitants of a West
are not merely the glow of a poetic imagination, nor the fleeting
inspiration of sorrow; but a well-founded hope, leading to the persuasion that
there is another and a better world.
Your reflections on the forlorn state of your existence are
very painful, and very strongly expressed. I confess I am at a loss how to
preach comfort. It would be very easy for me to resort to commonplaces, and
refer you to study and the enjoyment of the intellect; but I know too well that
happiness must find its abode in the heart, and not in the head.
He evidently means love, emphatically so called;
but kind affections of every nature are sources of happiness, and more lasting
ones than that violent flame, which, like the pure air of the chemist, when
separated from common air, intoxicates, and accelerates the term of its
existence. Those affections are the only remedy I see for you. The more you
lose, the more should you strive to repair your losses. At your age the door of
friendship cannot be shut; but man, and woman too, is imperfect: you must make
allowances, and though human nature is in a sad state, there are many worthy of
your regard. I am certain you may yet go through life surrounded by
friends,—real friends, not—
I am truly sorry for the wretchedness you are suffering, and the more,
because I am certain of your not having any pathetic cant in your character.
But while I think you have reason to be unhappy, I confide in the strength of
your understanding, to get the better of the evils of life, and to enter upon a
new pursuit of happiness. You see the volume will come, but believe me it comes
from the heart.
I thank you most kindly for that part of your letter which
relates to my purposed retirement into the country. You judge rightly that I
should not wish to be entirely out of society, but my bent on this head is more
on account of my family than myself; for I could live alone, that is alone with
them. I often avoid company; but it has been one of the greatest pleasures of
my life to see them coveted in society. Your picturesque, though a
charm, and a great one, it has. The being within a ride of you, however, is the
decisive attraction. I will, then, from this time keep Southwell in view for my
retreat, and at a future day we will take our flight. I am going to dine with
Childe Harold. I meant
to say something about the progress of the Poem, but I must postpone it. May
peace and happiness await you.”
It was not without great difficulty that I could induce
“a Fictitious Character is introduced, for the sake of giving some
connexion to the piece, which, however, makes no pretensions to
regularity,”
—was continued thus at first, but was afterwards altered.
“It has been suggested to me by friends,
I crave pardon for this egotism, which proceeds from my wish to discard any
probable imputation of it to the text.”
This it appears had been written before the death of his
While
“I saw
Aristarchus, into whose hands
the ‘
“the author of English Bards and Scotch Reviewers;”because, in the first place, your rank dignifies the page, whilst the execution of the work reflects no common lustre on your rank; and, in the next place, you avoid appearing to challenge your old foes, which you would be considered as doing by announcing the author as their Satirist; and certainly your best defiance of them in future will be never to notice either their censure or their praise. You will observe that the introductory stanza which you sent me is not printed:
is not only rough to the ear, but the phrase appears to me inaccurate: the change of‘Yet deem himnot from this with breast ofsteel,’
* It is true the travellers did not cross the line,
but before
“P.S. Casting my eyes again over the printed
stanzas, something struck me to be amiss in the last line but one of page
6—
From the context I think you must have written, or meant,—I have
not the MS.— a friend to counsel or
condole.’
otherwise grammar requires—‘Or seeks a friend,’
&c. he friend,’
&c.
These are straws on the surface, easily skimmed off.”
Previous to receiving this letter, Childe HaroldQuarterlyshall come forth
first,” I found, so far from opposing my
I cannot express the great anxiety I felt to prevent
The stanza that he at length sent me to substitute for this, was that beautiful
one—
The stanza which follows this, (the 9th of the 2d Canto), and which applies the
subject of it to the death of a
As a note to the stanzas upon this subject, beginning with the 3d, and
continuing to the 9th,
“In this age of bigotry, when the puritan and priest have changed places, and the
wretched catholic is visited with the
‘sins of his fathers,’
even
unto generations far beyond the pale of the commandment, the cast of opinion in these
stanzas will doubtless meet with many a contemptuous anathema. But let it be
remembered, that the spirit they breathe is desponding, not sneering, scepticism; that
he who has seen the Greek and Moslem superstitions contending for mastery over the
former shrines of Polytheism,—who has left in his own country
‘Pharisees, thanking God that they are not like Publicans and
Sinners,’
and Spaniards in theirs, abhorring the Heretics, who have
holpen them in their need,—will be not a little bewildered, and begin to think,
that as only one of them can be right,
This is a remarkable instance of false and weak reasoning, and affords a
key to
en Philosophe,
“The alteration of some bitter
stings shall be made previous to the Stanza going to press. You say if
I will point out the
Honorius
for the penance she imposes on herself, and must suffer. Politically
speaking, indeed in every sense, great deeds should be allowed to efface slight
errors. The Cintra Convention will do doubt be recorded; but shall a
‘And folks in office at the mention sweat;’
In consequence of this letter, * Printed as the 27th stanza. † These references are to my MS. copy of
Childe Harold’s
Pilgrimage.
* “
Adventures of an
Atom.
† By this query it is not meant that our foolish
Generals should have been shot, but that “
pour encourager les autres.”
To these stanzas was attached a long note, which though nothing but a wild tirade against the Portuguese, and the measures of government, and the battle of Talavera, I had great difficulty in inducing him to relinquish. I wrote him the following letter upon the subject:—
“You sent me but few notes for the first
Canto—there are a good many for the second. The only liberty I took with
them was, if you will allow me to use the dove-tail two of them, which, though connected in
the sense and relative to the reference in the Poem, were disunited as they
stood in your MS. I have omitted the passage respecting the Portuguese, which
fell with the alteration you made in the stanzas relative to Cintra, and the
insertion of which would overturn what your kindness had allowed me to obtain
from you on that point. I have no objection to your politics, my dear Lord, as
in the first place I do not much give my mind to politics; and, in the next, I
cannot but have observed that you view politics, as well as some other
subjects, through the optics of philosophy. But the note, or rather passage, I
allude to, is so discouraging to the cause of our country, that it could not
fail to damp the ardour of your readers. Let me intreat you not to recall the
sacrifice of it; at least, let it not appear in this volume, in which I am more
anxious than I can Young. But when I did it, I determined
not to send it to the press till it had met your eye. Indeed you know that even
when a single word has struck me as better changed, my way has been to state my
thought to you.”
The note I alluded to was as follows:—
In the year 1809, it is a
well-known fact, that the assassinations in the streets of Lisbon and its
vicinity were not confined by the Portuguese to their countrymen; but
Englishmen were daily butchered, and so far from the survivors obtaining
redress, they were requested “not to interfere” if they perceived
their compatriot defending himself against his amiable allies. I was once open shop, and in a carriage with a friend, by
three of our allies; and had we not fortunately been
armed, I have not the least doubt we should have “adorned a
tale,”
instead of telling it. We have heard wonders of the
Portuguese lately, and their gallantry,—pray heaven it continue; yet,
“would it were bed-time, Hal, and all were well!”
They
must fight a great many hours, by “Shrewsbury clock,”
before
the number of their slain equals that of our countrymen butchered by these kind
creatures, now metamorphosed into “l. 1s. 0d. from “an admirer of
valour,” are in requisition for the lists at Lloyd’s, and the
honour of British benevolence. Well, we have fought and subscribed, and
bestowed peerages, and buried the killed by our friends and foes; and, lo! all
this is to be done over again! Like “young The.”
(in
“grow older, we grow never the better.”
It would be
pleasant to learn who will subscribe for us, in or about the year 1815, and
what nation will send fifty thousand men, first to be decimated in the capital,
and then decimated again (in the Irish fashion, nine out
of ten,) in the “bed of honour,”
which, as “bed of
Ware.”
Then they must have a poet to write the ““best of all possible worlds.”
Sorely were we puzzled
how to dispose of that same victory of Talavera; and a victory it surely was
somewhere, for every body claimed it. The Spanish dispatch and mob called it
Cuesta’stheirs (to my great discomfiture,
for a French consul stopped my mouth in Greece with a pestilent Paris Gazette,
just as I had killed what to call it, or whose, for
certes it was none of our own. Howbeit,
There were several stanzas in which allusions were made of a personal
nature, and which I prevailed upon
As the poem went through the press, we had constant communication upon the subject, of the nature of which the following letter, taken from several which I wrote to him, may suggest an idea.
“I wish to direct your attention to several passages in the accompanying proofs, in which a minute critic might perhaps find something to carp at.
In stanza 24, the moon is called ‘a not reflected,
but reflects. The participle present would settle the
sense, though I should prefer the adjective, reflective.
A similar objection appears to me, but I may be wrong, to
‘the track oft trod.’ To the idea of treading, feet and firm footing seem so necessary, that I doubt
whether it is in the power of a trope to transfer it to water. It is in the 27th stanza.
In the next, the 28th, if she herself says to
the latter ‘No mortal approaches my shores with impunity.’
You say, ‘still a haven smiles.’
Though no advocate for an
unvarying sweetness of measure, my ear rebels against this line, in stanza
39:—
The stanza is remarkably beautiful, both for thought and versification,
that line excepted, the idea of which is appropriate and good; but its want of
melody checks the reader’s pleasure just as it is coming to its height. I
wish you would make it a little smoother. You find I have given over teasing
you about your sad stanzas, and, to be consistent in my reluctant submission, I
shall say nothing of the similar errors in the accompanying proofs; but I am
more than ever bent on dedicating a volume of truth to
you, and shall set about it forthwith. The more I read the more I am delighted;
but, observe, I do not agree with you in your opinion of the sex: the stanzas
are very agreeable: the previous ones of the voyage from Cadiz through the
Straits to
As I was now near
In spite of these prospects—in spite of genius—in spite of
youth—
* I cannot resist the impulse I feel to introduce here the memorial of him, which was published in most of the public papers and journals at the time of his death.
“
This was the greatest loss
attained a great degree of glory. In the war with France, previous to its
revolution, he commanded the Proserpine, of 28 guns, in which he engaged the
Sphinx, a French frigate, assisted by an armed ship; and some time after the
Alcmene, another French frigate, both of which severally struck to his superior
conduct and gallantry. In the course of the war he was appointed to the command
of the Andromache, of 32 guns. He was present at
“Desirous of serving in the East Indies, and applying
for a ship going to that quarter of the globe, he was appointed to the command
of the Phœnix, of 36 guns, and sailed with a small squadron under the
“When
restored to life, but he was no more to be restored to his country. The faculty
did what could be done to preserve him, and then ordered him to England, rather
hoping than believing that he could escape so far with life.
“In England he lived above twelve months; during which he suffered the
misery of witnessing the dissolution of a beautiful, amiable, and beloved
“In his public character he was brave, active, and skilful; and by his
death his Majesty lost an excellent and loyal officer. In his private
character, he was devout without ostentation, fond of his family, constant in
friendship, generous and humane. The memory of many who read this will bear
testimony to the justice of the praise; the memory of him who writes it will,
as long as that memory lasts, frequently recall his virtues, and dwell with
pleasure on his friendship.”
Alone. The town was now full; alone.
In addition to this his affairs were involved, and he was in the hands of
a
As the printing of
Meanwhile, the Poem that was to be the foundation of “What,” said he, “give your friend your left hand upon
such an occasion?”
I showed the cause, and immediately changing the umbrella
to the other hand, I gave him my right hand, which he shook and pressed warmly. He was
greatly elated, and repeated some of the compliments which had been paid him, and mentioned
one or two of the Peers who had desired to be introduced to him. He concluded with saying,
that he had, by his speech, given me the best advertisement for
A short time afterwards, he made me a present of the original manuscript
of his speech which he had previously written,—and from that manuscript, I now insert it here as a literary curiosity,
not devoid of interest.
“The subject now submitted to your
Lordships, for the first time, though new to the House, is, by no means, new to
the country. I believe it had occupied the serious thoughts of all descriptions
of persons long before its introduction to the notice of that Legislature whose
interference alone could be of real service. As a person in some degree
connected with the suffering county, though a stranger, not only to this House
in general, but to almost every individual whose attention I presume to
solicit, I must claim some portion of your Lordships’ indulgence, whilst
I offer a few observations on a question in which I confess myself deeply
interested. To enter into any detail of these riots would be su-“great statesmen now no
more,”
has survived the dead to become a curse on the living unto
the third and fourth generation! These men never destroyed their looms till
they were become useless, worse than useless; till they were become actual
impediments to their exertions in obtaining their daily bread. Can you then
wonder, that in times like these, when bankruptcy, convicted fraud, and imputed
felony, are found in a station not far beneath that of your Lordships, the
lowest, though once most useful portion of the people, should forget their duty
in their distresses, and become only less guilty than one of their
representatives? But while the ex-
in the fragments of broken frames, and return to their quarters
amidst the derision of old women, and the hootings of children. Now, though in
a
spolia opima
,
‘good easy men! have deemed full sure our greatnessand have sat down to enjoy our foreign triumphs in the midst of domestic calamity. But all the cities you have taken, all the armies which have retreated before your leaders, are but paltry subjects of self-congratulation, if your land divides against itself, and your dragoons and executioners must be let loose against your fellow-citizens. You call these men a mob, desperate, dangerous, and ignorant; and seem to think that the only way to quiet thewas a ripening,’
‘is to lop off a few of its superfluous heads. But even a mob may be better reduced to reason by a mixture of conciliation and firmness, than by additional irritation and redoubled penalties. Are we aware of our obligations to aBellua multorum capitum ’
I really believe that I was more anxious than its author about
the reception of the poem, the progress of which I had been superintending with great
pleasure for some months; and by that anxiety I was led into a precipitate compliance with
the solicitations of the printers of the last edition of the Satire, who were proprietors
and editors of a literary journal, to favour them with an early review of the poem. I not
only wrote it, but gave it to them, in the beginning of February; telling them that the
work would be out in the middle of that “I shall be set down for the writer of it,”
cried he. I told
him the fact as it stood. The flatter-
The rapidity of the sale of the poem, its reception, and the elation of
the author’s feelings, were unparalleled. But before I continue my account of it, I
cannot refrain here from making some mention of Newstead Abbey, as it was at this juncture
he again began to speak to me freely of his affairs. In spite of the pledge he had given me
never to consent to the disposal of it, he occasionally spoke of the sale as necessary to
clear him of embarrassments, and of
“You cannot but see that the interest I take in all
that concerns you comes from my heart, and I will not ask forgiveness for what
I am conscious merits a kind reception. Though not acquainted with the precise
state of your affairs, nor with those who have been employed in the management
of them, I venture to say, in spite of your seeming to think otherwise, that
there can be no occasion for the desperate remedies which have been suggested
to you. It is an ungracious thing to suspect; but from my ignorance of the
individuals by yourself, did I not think your pursuits, your mind, your very
attainments, have by no means qualified you for the task. But there are men,
and lawyers too, to be found of disinterested minds, and pure hands, to whom it
would not be difficult to save you the mortification of parting with a property
so honourable in the annals of your house. For God’s sake mistrust him
who suggested it; and, if you are inclined to listen to it, mis-
Your affairs should be thoroughly submitted to such a man or men as I have mentioned—that is, all the accounts of your minority, and all the transactions relative to your property, with every voucher, should be produced to them, and examined by them. Through them every thing equitable and honourable would be done, and a portion of your income appropriated to the disencumbering of your estates. I am persuaded that you may be extricated from your difficulties without the harsh alternative proposed. You mentioned the subject of your affairs to me on your arrival in England, but you appeared afterwards to wish it dropped; I have, however, frequently wished what, in consequence of your recent communication, I have now again expressed. Think of it, I beseech you.”
I felt much anxiety at the thought of Newstead Abbey going out of the family—certainly not merely because my nephew was his heir presumptive, though a very natural motive; but I am chevaleresque enough to think the alienation of an estate so acquired, and so long possessed, a species of sacrilege. The following is part of a letter which I wrote home the next day (March 12th, 1812,) after I had seen him. Being written at the time, it is the best continuation of my narrative:—
“The intelligence which
my
openly, and I had shown him that
opinion. ‘You are right, you are right,’ he said. ‘I am sure it is
not any of your family, but I really know nobody who I think cares half so much
about me as you do; and from many parts of the letter, it is no wonder I should
suspect that it came from
He is persuaded, he says, that it is
written by somebody acquainted with us. I cannot think so. She says she should like to
know if he has received her letter; and requests him to leave a note at Hookham’s
for
I have found another of my letters immediately following this, from which
I shall make such extracts as relate to the whole
‘I ought not to show such fine compliments, but I keep
nothing from you.’
Among his raptured admirers I was not a little surprised
to find an elegant copy of verses to him from ‘I shall be rejoiced, and wish it doubled and trebled; but do not
talk to me of money. I never will receive money for my
writings.’
‘I ought not to differ in an opinion which puts
hundreds into my purse, but others—’
He put out his hand to me, shook
mine, said he was very glad, and turned the conversation. The sentiment is noble, but
pushed too far. ‘and the other,’ said he ‘for
”
When I afterwards brought him the copies, he did write the name; and I had
the happiness of finding him ready to send
“To
Augusta , my dearest sister, and my best friend, who has ever loved me much better than I deserved, this volume is presented by herfather’sson, and most affectionate brother.“B.” “ March14th,1812.”
He was now the universal talk of the town: his speech and his Poem had not
only raised his fame to an extraordinary height, but had disposed all minds to bestow upon
him the most favourable reception; to disbelieve his own black account of himself, and to
forget that he had been a most bitter Satirist. Crowds of eminent persons courted an
introduction, and some
I called on him on the morning for which the levee had been appointed, and
found him in a full-dress court suit of clothes, with his fine black hair in powder, which
by no means suited his countenance. I was surprised, as he had not told me that he should
go to Court; and it seemed to me as if he thought it necessary to apologize for his
intention, by his observing, that he could not in decency but do it, as the Regent had done
him the honour to say that he hoped to see him soon at Carlton House. In spite of his
assumed philosophical contempt of royalty, and of his decided junction with the opposition,
he had not been able to withstand the powerful operation of royal praise; which, however,
continued to influence him only till flattery of a more con-
It was the first and the last time he was ever so dressed, at least for a
British Court. A newly-made friend of his
But his poem flew to every part of the kingdom, indeed of the world; his
fame
A gratifying compliment was paid him on the appearance of
Among the testimonies of the high feeling which the blaze of his genius
produced, I admired and selected a letter to him from the late
“From the eagerness which I felt to make known my
opinion of your any upon the subject, I waited upon
you to deliver my hasty, although hearty, commendation. If it be worthy your
acceptance, take it once more, in a more deliberate form! Upon my arrival in
town I found that Mathias entirely coincided with me. Surely, said I to him,
may have felt seem to denote. This was his answer,
‘I
This morning I read the second
Canto with all the attention it so highly merits, in the peace and stillness of
my study; and I am ready to confess I was never so much affected by any poem,
passionately fond of poetry as I have been from earliest youth. When, after the
9th stanza you introduce the first line of the 10th, fear he has—he could not else have
written such a Poem.’
Here let me sit upon the mossy stone;
Thus rendered by
I sit me down on the cold rugged stone,
“The eighth stanza, ‘Yet if as
holiest men,’ &c. has never been surpassed. In the 23d, the
sentiment is at variance with
and it is perhaps an instance wherein for the first time I found not
within my own breast an echo to your thought, for I would not ‘none would live past years
again: be once more a boy;’ but the generality of men
will agree with you, and wish to tread life’s path again.
“In the 12th stanza of the same Canto, you might
really add a very curious note to these lines—
by stating this fact:—When the last of the metopes was taken from
the Parthenon, and, in moving it, great part of the superstructure with one of
the triglyphs was thrown down by the workmen whom
“Once more I thank you for the gratification you have afforded me.
Though flattery had now deeply inoculated him with its poison,
he was at first unwilling to own its effects even to himself; and to me he declared that he
did not relish society, and was resolved never to mix with it. He made no resistance
however to its invitations, and in a very short time he not only willingly obeyed the
summons of fashion, but became a votary. One evening, seeing his carriage at the door in
St. James’s Street, I knocked, and found him at home. He was engaged to a party, but
it was not time to go, and I sat nearly an “I own,” said he, “I begin to
like them.”
Holland House, on which so much of the point of his satire had been
directed, being now one of his most flattering resorts, it was no longer difficult to
persuade him to suppress his satirical writings. The fifth edition of “English Bards and Scotch
ReviewersHints from
HoraceCurse of MinervaEnglish Bards and Scotch Reviewers
The expenses of the edition being defrayed, as well as those attending
the other poems that were also stopped in the press, and the bookseller having reaped all
the profits of the four preceding editions, he had literally no right to complain on this
subject; but as far as respects the right attached to expectations raised, he had, perhaps,
cause to think himself ill used. He had undertaken to publish what had been “I may place a great deal of
it,” said he, “to being a lord.”
And again,—“I
have made them afraid of me.”
There may be something in both these remarks,
as they regard the celerity of his fame, and the readiness of the “all hail,”
that was given to him; but the impression made by
I was now to see “Pray
sit.”
I answered that I would return. This roused him a little, and he said,
“I wish you would.”
I do not think he knew what passed, or observed
my quitting him. This scene gave me great pain. I began to fear that his fame would be
dearly bought. Previous to the appearance of
l. being
offered for it. What I remember that day affected me considerably. The auctioneer was
ques-l. I saw the agreement—but some time after
it turned out that the purchaser could not complete the purchase, and forfeited, I think,
20,000l., the estate remaining
“As I returned,” says
On this the
“This is a careless, but happy description, of one of the noblest mansions in
England; and it will
now be read with a far deeper interest than
when it was written. seat of the Byrons, old, majestic and venerable; but he saw
nothing of that magic beauty which Fame sheds over the habitations of genius, and which
now mantles every turret of Newstead Abbey. He saw it when Decay was doing its work on
the cloister, the refectory, and the chapel; and all its honours seemed mouldering into
oblivion. He could not know that a voice was soon to ‘Sleep no more’
to all the house. Whatever may be its future
fate, Newstead Abbey must henceforth be a memorable abode. Time may shed its wild
flowers on the walls, and let the fox in upon the court-yard and the chambers. It may
even pass into the hands of unlettered pride or plebeian opulence—but it has been
the mansion of a mighty poet. Its name is associated to glories that cannot perish, and
will go down to posterity in one of the proudest pages of our annals*.”
This is rather a poetical effusion than a sober criticism. I have heard
that the purchaser means to remove the Abbey as rubbish, and to build a modern villa upon
its site. It may be as well for the Poet’s fame; *
About this time
The pain arising from the mortification in this change was little, compared to that which I felt in the disappointment of my hope, that his success would elevate his character, as well as raise his fame. I saw that he was gone; and it made me unhappy. With an imagination, learning, and language to exalt him to the highest character of a poet, his mind seemed not sufficiently strong to raise him equally high in the not adventitious character of a great man.
* We are glad to learn that the
In the autumn he took a place in the country, near
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage.
In the beginning of the year 1813 he seemed to be a little recovered from his intoxication. He lived in a house in Bennet-street, St. James’s, where I saw him almost every day, by his own desire, and his kindness and attentions seemed uninterrupted. I confess I suspected that the independence of my opinions had had some effect upon his mind. I have the copy of a letter by me, written to him in the Autumn of 1812, (August 19th,) when he was going to the country-house he had taken, as I have just mentioned; and which I will insert here as another proof of that independence:—
“You talked of going out of town in a few days; pray
remember to leave
He again became satiated with praise and pleasure, and turned his mind
to composition. I was highly gratified, allowing it even to be flattery, at his
acknowledgment of being pleased with the novels I had written; and I was still more
flattered when he proposed to me to write one jointly. I thought the proposal made on a “Now, do
you go on.”
On opening the paper I read, “Letter
“* * * * * * so much for your present pursuits. I
will now resume the subject of my last. How I wish you were upon the spot; your
taste for the ridiculous would be fully gratified; and if you felt inclined for
more serious amusement, there is no ‘lack of argument.’ Within this
last week our guests have been doubled in number, some of them my old
acquaintance. Our host you already know—absurd as ever, but rather
duller, and I should conceive troublesome to such of his very good friends as
find his house more agreeable than its owner. I confine myself to observation,
and do not find him at all in the way, though
“You are very much mistaken in the design you impute
to myself; I have none here or elsewhere. I am sick of old intrigues, and too
indolent to engage in new ones. Besides, I am, that is, I used to be, apt to
find my heart gone at the very time when you fastidious gentlemen begin to
recover yours. I agree with you that the world, as well as yourself, are of a
different opinion. I shall never be at the trouble to undeceive either; my
follies have seldom been of my own seeking. ‘Rebellion came in my way
and I found it.’
This may appear as coxcombical a speech as
you partly know its truth. You talk to me too of
‘my cha-better, that is worse, use of it; relieve me,
and gratify an ambition which is unworthy of a man of sense. It has always
appeared to me extraordinary that you should value women so highly and yet love
them so little. The height of your gratification ceases with its
accomplishment; you bow—and you sigh—and you worship—and
abandon. For my part I regard them as a very beautiful but inferior animal. I
think them as much out of their place at our tables as they would be in our
senates. The whole present system, with regard to that sex, is a remnant of the
chivalrous barbarism of our ancestors; I look upon them as grown up children,
but, like a foolish mamma, am always the slave of some only one. With a contempt for the race, I am ever attached to the
individual, in spite of myself. You know, that though
not rude, I am inattentive; any thing but a ‘beau garçon.’ I
would not hand a woman out of her carriage, but I would leap into a river after
her. However, I grant you you might, very
probably, do both; but, as you can’t swim, and I can, I recommend you to
invite me to your first water-party.
“not of her husband, though rather less pious, and t’other thing, according to little-tempered; she has also discovered that she
married thrown away upon
him to make him more so; thirdly, it would be a pity, because no body would pity him; and, fourthly, (as
“More in my next.
I again enjoyed his friendship and his company, with a pleasure
sweet to my memory, and not easily expressed. He was in the habit of reading his poems to
me as he wrote them. In the spring of the year 1813, he read me
The American government had this year sent a special embassy to the Court
of Petersburgh. * * The gentleman to whom it was attributed has since
distinguished himself in the literary world, and is now said not to be the author
of it. It was not denied at the time: the Americans in London ascribed it to him.
“the Americans have none—no native literature we
mean. It is all imported. They had a
Much cannot be said for the liberality of this criticism. Some
names, it is true, have been doomed by the spirit of ridicule to mockery;
So when it suited his Satire, he split the southern smooth monosyllable of
Yet we know, that very unsonorous names have, by greatness of mind, by talents and
Seasons
I believe that the nature of this
The following was my answer, dated Worton-House, December 19th, 1813:—
“I would not hesitate a moment to lay aside the kind
of resentment I feel against morally impossible for me to do it for some time. I
think I need not protest very eagerly to be believed, when I say that I should
be happy to do what you could esteem a favour. I wish for no triumph over
In less than a fortnight, the current of satisfaction which had run thus
high and thus strong in favour of his publisher, ebbed with equal rapidity; and became so
low, that in addition to the loss of * “I have a great mind—I will.”
He then added, that he should
finish it soon, and asked me to accept of the copyright. I was much surprised. He had,
before he was aware of the value of his works, declared he never would take money for them;
and that I should have the whole advantage of all he wrote. This declaration became morally
void, when the question was about thousands instead of a few hundreds; and I perfectly
agree with the admired and admirable author of “the wise and good accept not gifts which are made
I felt this on the sale of “Not at all,” said he, “do exactly as you please;
he has had the assurance to give me his advice as to writing, and to tell me that I
should outwrite myself. I would rather you would publish it by some other
bookseller.”
The circumstance, however, lowered the pride of wealth; a submissive
letter was written, containing some flattery, and, in spite of an awkward apology,
While the Corsairecraser
His feelings upon this subject were clearly manifested, but he expressed
himself in the kindest manner towards me; and though
In the first of these letters it was very evident that
I have seen the paragraph in an evening
paper, in which accused of “re-
I take upon me to affirm that SatireChilde Harold’s
PilgrimageCorsairGiaourBride of Abydos
The pen in my hand, and affection and
grateful feelings in my heart, I cannot refrain from touching upon a subject of
a painful nature, delicate as it is, and fearful as I am that I shall be unable
to manage it with a propriety of which it is susceptible, but of which the
execution is not easy. One reflection encourages me, for if magnanimity be the
attendant of rank, (and all that I have published proves such a prepossession
in my mind,) then have I the less to fear from the most
illustrious,
I do not purpose to defend the publication of the
Corsair, which has
given rise to such a torrent of abuse, and of the insertion of which I was not
aware till the Poem was published; but most surely they have been placed in a
light which never entered the mind of the author, and in which men of
dispassionate minds cannot see them. It is absurd to talk seriously of their
ever being meant to disunite the parent and the child, or to libel the
sovereign. It is very easy to descant upon such assumed enormities; but the
assumption of them, if not a loyal error, is an atrocious crime.
While I hope that I have said enough to show the hasty misrepresentation of the lines in question, I must take care not to be misunderstood myself. The little part I take in conversing on politics is well known, among my friends, to differ completely from the political sentiments which dictated these verses; but knowing their author better than most who pretend to judge of him, and with motives of affection, veneration, and admiration, I am shocked to think that the hasty collecting of a few scattered poems, to be placed at the end of a volume, should have raised such a clamour.—I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,
I was delighted, and
The Corsair
In the original manuscript of the CorsairMedora
Through the winter, and during the spring of 1814, he maintained an open and friendly intercourse with me. I saw him very frequently.
In May he began his Poem of LaraCorsair
He was now so frank and kind that I again ventured to talk to him of
Newtead Abbey, which brought to his mind his promise of the pledge; and, on June 10, 1814,
after reading the continuation of Lara, he renewed the resolution of never parting with the
Abbey. In confirmation of this he gave me all the letters he had written to his
I remained of opinion that
“The beauties of your new Poem equal, some of them
perhaps excel, what we have enjoyed in your preceding tales. With respect to
the narrative, the interest, as far as you have read, is completely sustained.
Yet, to render
Lara
ultimately as interesting as
He chose to leave it to the reader’s determination; but, I think,
it is easy to be traced in the scene under the line where
“His dying tones are in that other tongue, To which some strange remembrance wildly clung. They spoke of other scenes, but what—is known To Kaled , whom their meaning reached alone;And, he replied, though faintly, to their sound, While gazed the rest in dumb amazement round : They seemed e’n then—that twain—unto the last To half forget the present in the past; To share between themselves some separate fate, Whose darkness none beside should penetrate.” CantoII.Stanz.18
In the next stanza, also, he speaks of remembered scenes. In the 21st
stanza the sex of
I have little to add. Peace with France being concluded in the year
1814, I resolved on going to Paris, and thence to the South; but as I did not immediately
leave England, and
I think that for some years I possessed more of his affection than those
who, after the establishment of his fame, were proud to call him friend. This opinion is
formed, not only from the recollected pleasure I enjoyed, but from his own opinions in
conversation, long after he had entered the vortex of gaiety and of flattery; and from what
he read to me from a book in which he was in the habit of drawing characters;—a book
that was not to be published till the living generation had passed away. That book
suggested to me these pages: nor did I keep my intention a secret from him. In
“I look into it occasionally with much pleasure, and
I enjoy the thought of being in company with your spirit, when it is opened on
earth towards the end of the nineteenth century, and of finding you pleased,
even in the high sphere you may then, if you would but will it now,
occupy—which it is possible you might not be, were you to see it opened
by the world in your present sphere. I do not know whether you are able to say
as much for your book; for if you do live hereafter, and I have not the
slightest doubt but you will, I suspect that you will have company about you at
the opening of it which may rather afford occasion of remorse than of pleasure,
however gracious and forgiving you may find immortal spirits. Of you I have
written
If his affection, his confidence, nay I will boldly say his preference,
on difficult occasions, were but flattery or an illusion lasting for years, the remembrance
of it is too agreeable to be parted with at the closing period of my life, especially as
that remembrance is “accompanied with a recollection of my anxiety, and of my efforts
to exalt him as high in wisdom as nature and education had raised him on the standard of
genius. But it was no illusion; and at the very moment of his quit-
There was something of a pride in him which carried him beyond the
common “I have seen the most
celebrated countries in the world, and have learned to prefer and to love my
own.”
In vain too was he led into the defiance of the sacred writings; there
are passages in his letters and in his works which show that religion might have been in
his soul. Could he cite the following lines and resist the force of them? It is true that
he marks them for the beauty of
Dryden
Liberal
.
When I planned this book, it was my intention to conclude it with
remarks on the genius and writings of
* See Preliminary Statement. This work had proceeded thus far, when it pleased God to stop
the pen of the writer, and bid to cease the current of recollections which had set it in
motion.
While executing this sacred commission, I intreat the reader to remember
that it is not the same person who writes; and not only that the writer is different, but
to call to mind that it is a son who takes up the mantle which a father has cast down in
leaving this world. Whoever has perused the foregoing pages, cannot but feel that the
author has borne a part in the circumstances which are related of so honourable a nature,
that a son may be well authorised to speak in other terms than those which the person
himself might use. And if, in any thing I may say, it should be
The character of
To reason from hearsay, and form opinions upon the unauthenticated annals
of common conversation, can never bring us to truth, nor give to our judgments sufficient
certainty for practical purposes. It will therefore be useless to attempt to estimate
decided his character, whatever it might have been previously.
There might have been some difficulty in finding so reasonable a
ground-work upon which to form an opinion of what he had continued to be in his subsequent
progress through life; and the fairest inference would have been that which his own later
productions afford, had not a
The perusal of this book rewards the reader, as he was rewarded who
opened he did
not write some, as he believed that he knew more of
him than any one else?” This was after three or four
months’ acquaintance*!
In my own case, after reading the book to which I allude, this solitary
consolation on account of * There are several things mentioned in this book of three years, he returned to London, and that the second
canto of two years to a
day, which he remarked himself in a very strong manner, returning in July, 1811,
and that the first and second cantos of
It was dated the 10th of November, 1819, and after some introductory
remarks upon the cessation of his correspondence with
“I am almost out of life, and I shall speak to you
with the freedom of a spirit already arrived beyond the grave: what I now write
you may suppose addressed to you in a dream, or by my ghost, which I believe
will be greatly inclined to haunt
“I take it for granted, my Lord, that when you
excluded me from your friendship, you also banished me from your thoughts, and
forgot the occurrences of our intimacy. I will, therefore, bring one
circumstance to your recollection, as it is introductory to the subject of this
letter. One day when I called upon you at your apartments in the Albany, you
took up a book in which you had been writing, and having read a few short
passages, you said that you intended to fill it with the characters of those
then around you, and with present anecdotes, to be published in the succeeding
century, and not before; and you enjoyed, by anticipation, the effect that
would be produced on the fifth and sixth generations of those to whom you
should give niches in your posthumous volume. I have often thought of this
fancy of yours, and imagined the wits, the belles,
“Lest you should suspect some inconsistency in this,
and that although I began by assuring you that I did not mean to complain, my
letter has been imagined for no other purpose; I will pause here, to declare to
you solemnly that the affection I have felt for you, that the affection I do
feel for you, is the motive by which I am at present actuated; and that but for
the desire I feel to be of some service to you, you never would have heard from
me again while I remained in this life. Were not this the case, this letter
would deserve to be considered as an impertinence, and I would scorn to write
it. I would give the world to retrieve you; to place you again upon that summit
which you reached, I may say on which you alighted, in the spring of 1812. It
may be a more arduous attempt, but I see no impossibility; nay, to place you
much higher than ever. You * The first Cantos of Poet
you have indeed wonderfully filled up the years you have attained—as a
man you are in your infancy. Like a child you fall and dirt yourself, and your
last fall has soiled you more than all the rest. I would to heaven you had not
written your last unaccountable
Childe Harold for the copyright was, in my mind, nothing
in comparison with the honour that was due to me for discerning the genius that
lay buried in the Pilgrimage, and for exciting you to the publication of it, in
spite of the damp which had been thrown upon it in the course of its
composition, and in spite of your own reluctance and almost determination to
suppress it; nothing in comparison with the kindness that was due to me for the
part I took in keeping back your Hints from Horace, and the new edition of the Satire, till the moment I impressed conviction on your
mind that your fame and the choice of your future career in life depended upon
the suppression of these, and on the publication of Childe
Harold. I made an effort to render you sensible that I was not dead to
that better claim, but it was unsuccessful; and though you continued your
personal kindness whenever we met, you raised in my mind a jealousy which I was
perhaps too proud, if not too mean-spirited, to betray. The result of the
feeling, however, was, that I borrowed from you the hint of a posthumous
volume, for after awhile I did not much care for the present, and I have
indulged meditations on you and on myself for the amusement and judgment of
future generations, but with this advantage over you, that I am convinced that
I shall participate in whatever effect they produce; and without this
conviction SatiristScourge
Such was the affectionate interest with which the author of this letter
continued
To return to the original character of too daring;—in opening his heart to his mother he shows that
he believed that God knew, and did all things for the
best;—after having seen mankind in many nations and
characters, he unrestrainedly conveys his opinion, that human nature is every where corrupt
and despicable. These points are the more valuable, because they flowed naturally and
undesignedly from the heart; while, on the contrary, his sceptical opinions were expressed
only when the subject was before him, and as it were by way of apology.
When, in this period of his life, there is any thing like argument upon
this subject, advanced by him in his correspondence, it is miserably weak and confused. The
death of his atheistical friend bewildered him: he thought there was the stamp of
immortality in all this person said and did—that he seemed a man created to display
what the Creator could make—and yet, such as he was, he had been gathered into
corruption, before the maturity of a mind that might have been the pride of posterity. a mind could not be gathered into the corruption which awaited the
perishable body? Accordingly,
When about to publish Childe Harold’s Pilgrimagedecided expression of which he was then induced to
withdraw, he wrote a note to accompany them, which has been inserted in this work. Its main
object is to declare, that his was not sneering, but desponding scepticism—and he
grounds his opinions upon the most unlogical deduction that could be formed: that, because
he had found many people abuse and disgrace an
apology for his scepticism.
It cannot be said, that up to this period,
English Bards.
I mention these circumstances to call to the reader’s mind the
general tenor of
But the publication of Childe Harold
The circumstances which have been detailed in this work respecting the
publication of Childe
Harold,
With proportionable celerity his opinions of moral conduct were changed;
his power of estimating virtue at any thing like its true value ceased; and his mind became
spiritually darkened to a degree as great perhaps as has ever been known to take
What must have been the change in that man who could at one time write
these lines,—
and at another become the author of
Don Juan, where grosser, more
licentious, more degrading images are produced, than could have been expected to have found
their way into any mind desirous merely of preserving a decent character in
society;—than
“without any injunctions to secrecy.”Who could have imagined that the same man who had observed upon the offensiveness of the expression of another’s irreligious
and conceive that the same hand wrote his“And fools rush in where Angels fear to tread,”
Yet such a change did take place, as any one may be convinced of, who
will take the trouble to read the present work, and the * disowning of the principles of an assertion. It can
only be the most puerile ignorance of the nature of religion, which can receive assertion
for proof in such a matter. The very essence of real religion is to let itself be seen in
the life, when it is really sown in the heart; and a man who appeals to his assertions to
establish his religious character, may be his own dupe, but can never dupe any but such as
are like him—just as the lunatic in Bedlam may call himself a king, “I am not afraid of dying—I am more fit to
die than people think.”
When we see wonderful and rapid changes take place in the physical
world, we naturally seek for the cause; and it cannot but be useful to trace the cause of
so visible a change in the moral world, as that which appears upon the comparison I have
pointed out. It will not, I think, be too much to say, that it took place immediately that
the resistance against evil ceased in liaison of
which he has not scrupled to boast. There was something so disgusting in the forwardness of
the
As long as Childe Harold’s
Pilgrimage
In obeying this solemn charge I should have concluded these remarks, had
I not found, in looking over the manuscript of the work upon this subject, which was
“I have suffered Time to make a progress unfriendly to the subject to which I had
attached so great an interest. Had Providence vouchsafed me the happiness of recording
of
my nod too on the occasion, if, let me humbly add, my prayers
shall have availed me beyond the grave.”