My Recollections of Lord Byron
says Mr. Galt, "I was frequently with him. At that time, the strongest
feeling by which he appeared to be actuated was indignation against a
writer in a scurrilous publication, called 'The Scourge,' in which he
was not only treated with unjustifiable malignity, but charged with
being, as he told me himself, the illegitimate son of a murderer. I had
not read the work; but the writer who could make such an absurd
accusation, must have been strangely ignorant of the very circumstances
from which he derived the materials of his own libel. When Lord Byron
mentioned the subject to me, and that he was consulting Sir Vicary Gibbs
with the intention of prosecuting the publisher and the author, I
advised him, as well as I could, to desist simply because the
allegations referred to well-known occurrences. His grand-uncle's duel
with Mr. Chaworth, and the order of the House of Peers to produce
evidence of his grandfather's marriage with Miss Trevannion, the facts
of which being matter of history and public record, superseded the
necessity of any proceeding.
"Knowing how deeply this affair agitated him at that time, I was not
surprised at the sequestration in which he held himself, and which made
those who were not acquainted with his shy and mystical nature apply to
him the description of his own 'Lara.'"[176]
Lord Byron's conduct at this period, led those who did not know his
timid mystery-loving nature, to fancy that they recognized him in the
portrait drawn of "Lara." Probably they were unaware how his hard fate
was now not sparing him one single grief or mortification; how he was
struggling between the necessity of putting up Newstead for sale and the
extreme repugnance he felt to such a step.
"Before his resolve was taken on this head," says Mr. Galt, "he was
often so troubled in mind, as to be unable to hide his sadness; and he
often spoke of leaving England forever."
Already, long absence had made him lose sight of several early comrades;
his mother was dead, and he scarcely saw his sister, who lived in quite
another circle; through his antecedents, his youth, and his travels
abroad, he was still a stranger among his fellow-peers; the only persons
he saw much of were five or six college friends, whom death had spared,
and to whom he was extremely attached; but they were his sole
affections. His ideal standard of perfection which, being brought in
contact with reality, had always a little spoilt women for him, had
ended by making them almost disagreeable.
"I have one request to make," wrote he at this time to H----, "never
again speak to me in your letters of a woman; do not even allude to the
existence of the sex. I will not so much as read a word about them; it
must be _propria que maribus_."
It was in this state of relative isolation that he came to London, about
the end of the year, and found Dallas preparing to have "Childe Harold"
published; a task in which Lord Byron half unwillingly joined.
"He seemed more inclined," says Dallas, "at that time to seek more solid
fame, by endeavoring to become an active, eloquent statesman."
But, notwithstanding this perspective, despite his genius and his youth,
Lord Byron often fell into a sort of mental prostration, which was, says
Dallas again, "rather the _result of his particular situation, feeling
himself out of his sphere, than that of a gloomy disposition_ received
from nature."
We have seen, in effect, that there were circumstances then existing
well calculated to darken his noble brow, and give him those nervous
movements that may have seemed like caprice to those who were ignorant
of their cause; and I wished to enter into these details so as to
characterize well the epoch when his melancholy was greatest, and to
show that it had its chief source in the anguish of his heart. It was to
this time he alluded, when, in other days of suffering (at the period of
his separation from Lady Byron), wherein his heart had smaller share, he
wrote to Moore:--"If my heart could have broken, it would have done so
years ago, through events more afflicting than this."
I also wished to enter into these details, because, desiring to prove
that Lord Byron's melancholy almost always arose from palpable causes,
it was necessary to make these causes known; and thus those who have
declared his griefs to be rather _imaginary_ than _real_, may find in
this chapter abundant reason for rectifying their ideas. Among the
number of such persons we may rank Mr. Macaulay, the eloquent historian,
whose opinion, however, has _no weight_, as regards Lord Byron's
character. For it is evident that he made use of this great name by way
of choosing a good theme for his eloquence, a sort of mould for fine
phrases. Besides, Macaulay did not know Lord Byron personally, nor did
he study him impartially; facts which are his _fault_ and his _excuse_.
After having paid this great tribute to grief during six months, the
storm appeared to subside, and a ray of sunshine penetrated into Lord
Byron's mind. It was then that he made Moore's acquaintance, and that of
other clever men, among whom we may cite Rogers and Campbell. Moore
especially, introduced under circumstances that brought out strongly the
most amiable and estimable qualities of heart and mind, was to Lord
Byron as a beacon-light amid the clouds external and internal harassing
him then; and their sympathy was mutual and instantaneous. Lord Byron
wrote directly to Harness:--
"Moore is the epitome of every thing exquisite in poetic and personal
perfections."
On his side, Moore, after having praised the _manly, generous, pleasing
refinement of his new friend_, sums up by saying:--"_Frank and manly as
I found his nature then, so did I ever find it to his latest hour._" And
in describing the effect produced on him by his first meeting with Lord
Byron, he says:--
"_Among the impressions which this meeting left upon me, what I chiefly
remember to have remarked was the nobleness of his air, his beauty, the
gentleness of his voice and manners._ Being in mourning for his mother,
the color, as well of his dress as of his glossy, curling, and
picturesque hair, gave more effect to the pure, spiritual paleness of
his features, in the expression of which, when he spoke, there was a
perpetual play of lively thought, though melancholy was their habitual
character when in repose."
But this melancholy, having become habitual to him through accident,
began then to disperse, as snow melts beneath the soft and warm breath
of spring. The first symptom was that he judged better of himself; for,
writing to his friend Harness, to express his general opinion on human
selfishness, he said, "But I do not think we are born of this
disposition."
"From the time of our first meeting," says Moore, "there seldom elapsed
a day that Lord Byron and I did not see each other, and our acquaintance
ripened into intimacy and friendship with a rapidity of which I have
seldom known an example."[177]
Moore's company was a great consolation to him then, and Providence
willed that the first balsam applied to his wounds, after that of time,
should come from the hand of one whom he had lashed in his satire. He
passed in this way the last months of 1811, and the first two of the
following year. Meanwhile his star was about to rise, soon to transform,
without any transition, his misty sky into brightest light, too
dazzling, alas! to endure. For the sun, when it shines so radiantly in
early morning, absorbs too many bad vapors. But we will not anticipate
events which I am not relating here.
The parliamentary session being opened, Lord Byron resumed his seat in
the upper House. But he was only known there by the satire that had
raised him up such a host of enemies; otherwise, the handsome young man
who had come among them three years before, but who had since appeared
to disdain their labors, preferring foreign travel in Spain and the
East, was scarcely remembered. When they saw him return, still so young
and handsome, but with a grave melancholy brow, and that he immediately
distinguished himself as an orator, general admiration was excited.
Even those he had offended generously forgot their anger in sympathy for
a fellow-countryman, and pride in such a colleague; pride and enthusiasm
were so general that both parties, Tories and Whigs, shared it equally.
Lord Holland told him that _as an orator he would beat them all, if he
persevered_. Lord Grenville remarked that for the construction of his
phrases _he already resembled Burke_. Sir Francis Burdett declared that
his discourse was the _best_ pronounced by a lord in parliamentary
memory. Several other noblemen asked to be presented, and even those he
had offended came round to shake hands. Generous natures showed
themselves on this occasion. The success of the orator heralded that of
the poet, for "Childe Harold" appeared a few days after.
"The effect was," said Moore, "accordingly electric; his fame had not to
wait for any of the ordinary gradations, but seemed to spring up like
the palace of a fairy tale, in a night. As he himself briefly described
it in his memoranda:--'I awoke one morning, and found myself famous.'
"The first edition of his work was disposed of instantly; and, as the
echoes of its reputation multiplied on all sides, 'Childe Harold' and
'Lord Byron' became the theme of every tongue. At his door most of the
leading names of the day presented themselves. From morning till night
the most flattering testimonies of his success crowded his table from
the grave tributes of the statesman and the philosopher down to (what
flattered him still more) the romantic billet of some _incognita_, or
the pressing note of invitation from some fair leader of fashion; and,
in place of the desert which London had been to him but a few weeks
before, he now not only saw the whole splendid interior of high life
thrown open to receive him, but found himself among its illustrious
crowds the most distinguished object."
I may also mention Dallas, who in speaking of this unexampled success,
says:--
"Lord Byron had become the subject of every conversation in town.
"He was surrounded with honors. From the regent and his admirable
daughter, down to the editor and his clerk; from Walter Scott and
Jeffrey down to the anonymous authors of the 'Satirist' and the
'Scourge,' all and each extolled his merits. He was the admiration of
the old, and the marvel of the fashionable circles of which he had
become the idol."
This adoration of a whole nation did not turn his head, but it touched
and rejoiced his heart. When he knew himself forgiven and loved by those
even whom he had most offended in his satire, toward whom he felt most
guilty, as, for instance, the excellent Lord Holland, who asked for his
friendship, predicting his future fame as an orator, and already placing
him beside Walter Scott as a poet; then by Lord Fitzgerald, who declared
himself incapable of feeling angry with "Childe Harold," and many, many
others; when all this occurred, Lord Byron's heart expanded to the
better feelings he had long kept under control and hidden. He gave way
to his innate kindness, to generous forgiveness; his own good qualities
were stimulated by the kindness and generosity of others; this, rather
than any satisfaction of self-love, dispelled the clouds from his soul,
changed the sky and atmosphere, and his melancholy of that period, which
owed its source to the heart, became neutralized by the heartfelt
satisfaction he experienced. His letters, and particularly those to
Moore, are full of life and animation at this time; and such as he
appeared in his letters, such did Moore describe him in his habitual
frame of mind. Dallas, who before had so often seen him melancholy,
says:--