My Recollections of Lord Byron
discover danger to religion in some philosophical verses,[205] they
denounced the young poet as an _atheist_ and a _rebel_. At the same time
his admiration for foreign beauties wounded feminine self-love at home.
In thus placing the interests of truth above every other consideration,
not only from the necessity he experienced of expressing it, but also
with the design of serving justice, Lord Byron by no means ignored the
formidable amount of burning coals he was piling upon his head. He knew
well that the secret war going on against him delighted all his rivals,
who, not having dared to show their spite at the time of his triumphs,
had bided patiently the day of vengeance.
He was aware of it all, but did not therefore draw back; and looking
fearlessly at the pile heaped with all these combustible materials
intended for his martyrdom, he did not any the more cease from his work.
He resisted, and accepted martyrdom like a _hero_.
"You can have no conception of the uproar the eight lines on the little
Royalty's weeping in 1812 (now republished) have occasioned.... The
'Morning Post,' 'Sun,' 'Herald,' 'Courier,' have all been in
hysterics.... I am an atheist, a rebel, and at last the devil
(_boiteux_, I presume). My demonism seems to be a female's
conjecture.... The abuse against me in all directions is vehement,
unceasing, loud."[206]
The editor, alarmed, proposed to have them disavowed.
"Take any course you please to vindicate yourself," Lord Byron answered
him; "but leave me to fight my own way, and, as I before said, do not
_compromise_ me by any thing which may look like _shrinking_ on my part;
as for your own, make the best of it.... I have already done all in my
power by the suppression" (of the satire). "If that is not enough, they
must act as they please; but I will not 'teach my tongue a most inherent
baseness,' come what may.... I shall bear what I can, and what I can not
I shall resist. The worst they could do would be to exclude me from
society. I have never courted it, nor, I may add, in the general sense
of the word, enjoyed it; and there is a world elsewhere!
"Any thing remarkably injurious I have the same means of repaying as
other men, with such interest as circumstances may annex to it."
After this first great explosion, of which the verses addressed to the
Princess Charlotte had formed the occasion and the pretext, the
commotion appeared to subside. But the fire in the mine had not gone
out. It still circulated obscurely, gathering strength in the quiet
darkness. Another occasion was alone wanting for a second explosion, and
a hand to strike the spark. The circumstance of his unhappy marriage,
which had taken place in the interval, presented this occasion; and the
hand to strike the spark was the one which had received the nuptial
ring a year before. The explosion was brutal, abominable,
insensate--unworthy of the society that tolerated it.
Then came another interval; the good who had been drawn into this stormy
current were seized with regret and remorse. "_Why did we thus rise
against our spoilt and favorite child?_" The wicked knew well wherefore
they had done it, but the good did not. Macaulay told it them one day,
twenty years afterward, better than any one else has, in one of those
passages where the beauty of his style, far from injuring truth, lends
it a double charm, enhancing it just as nature's beauty is set off by a
profusion of light.
This good feeling stealing over the public conscience alarmed Lord
Byron's deadly enemies. They feared lest sentimental remorse should
compromise their victory; and they manoeuvred so well, that from that
hour persecution took up permanent abode in England, under pretext of
offense to religion or morals. It followed him on his heroic journey
into Greece, and ceased not with his death. Even after that, the
vengeance and rage of his enemies--the indiscretion and timidity of
friends--the material or moral speculations of all, together with the
assurance of impunity--continued to feed the fire which an end so
glorious as his ought to have quenched.[207]
But if the war against him did not cease, his perseverance and courage
in saying what he thought did not cease either. Who more than he
despised popularity and literary success, if they were to be purchased
at the cost of truth?
"Were I alone against the world," said he, "I would not exchange my
freedom of thought for a throne." And again: "He who wishes not to be a
despot, or a slave, may speak freely."
That such independence of mind, aided by such high genius, should have
alarmed certain coteries--not to speak of certain political and
religious sets, who were all powerful--may easily be conceived. We can
not feel surprise at the scandals they got up in defense of their
privileges, when attacked by a new power who made every species of
baseness and hypocrisy tremble; nor can we wonder that, unknowing where
it would stop, they should have sought to cast discredit on the oracle
by slandering the man. That the bark bearing him to exile should have
been pushed on by a wind of angry passions in coalition--by a breeze not
winged by conscience--may also be conceived; but to _conceive_ is not to
absolve, and in using the above expression we only mean to allow due
share to human nature in general--to the character, manners, and perhaps
to the special requirements of England. And if we ought not to condone
party spirit in politics, defending privileges to the death; nor the
anti-Christian ferocity displayed by that portion of the clergy who,
without reason or sincerity, attacked him from the pulpit; nor yet the
malice and revenge displayed in the vile slanders that pursued him to
his last hour; we can, on the other hand, comprehend, and even, up to a
certain point, excuse this prosperous and noble country of England for
not classing her great son among popular poets--for hiding her
admiration cautiously: since it must be acknowledged that Lord Byron
often acted and wrote rather _as belonging to humanity, than merely as
belonging to England_.
But if he were treated with the same injustice by foreigners, could the
same excuse be made for them? Would a man be excusable if laziness and
carelessness made him accept, without examination, some type set up for
Lord Byron by a country wounded in her self-love, as England had been,
or the reserves made by hostile biographers, under the weighty influence
of a society organized as English society then was? The vile system
which consists in seeking to give a good opinion of one's own morality
by being severe on the morality of others, is only too well known. Would
it be excusable to apply it ruthlessly to Lord Byron?--to pretend to
repeat that in attacking prejudice he wounded morals?--that he injured
virtue by warring against hypocrisy?--that by using a right inherent to
the human mind in some hypothetical lines of a poem, written at
twenty-one years of age, and which is beyond the comprehension of the
multitude, since the greater number of mankind neither read elevated
poetry nor works of high taste; is it not absurd to pretend that he
wished to upset them in their religious belief, and deprive them of
truths which are at once their consolation, support, and refuge in time
of sorrow and suffering?
Nevertheless, _Frenchmen_ have spoken thus; and in this way, through
these united causes, Lord Byron has remained _unappreciated_ as a man
and unfairly judged as a poet.
One calls him _the poet of evil_; another _the bard of sorrow_. But no!
Lord Byron was not exclusively either one or the other. He was _the poet
of the soul_, just as Shakspeare was before him.
Lord Byron, in writing, never had in view virtue rather than vice. To
take his stand as a teacher of humanity, at his age, would have seemed
ridiculous to him. After having chosen subjects in harmony with his
genius, and a point of view favorable to his poetic temperament, which
especially required to throw off the yoke of artificial passions and of
weak, frivolous sentiments, what he really endeavored was to be
powerfully and energetically true. He thought that truth _ought_ always
to have precedence over every thing else--that it was the source of the
_beautiful_ in art, as well as of all _good_ in souls. To him lies were
_evil_ and _vice_; truth was _good_ and _virtue_. As a poet, then, he
was the bard of the soul and of truth; and as a man, all those who knew
him, and all who read his works, must proclaim him the poet who has come
nearest to the ideal of truth and sincerity.
And now, after having studied this great soul under every aspect, if
there were in happy England men who should esteem themselves higher in
the scale of virtue than Lord Byron, because having never been troubled
in their belief, either through circumstances or the nature of their own
mind, they _never admitted or expressed any doubt_; because they are the
happy husbands of those charming, indulgent, admirable women to be found
in England, who _love and forgive so much_; because, being rich, they
have not refused _some trifle_ out of their superfluity to the poor;
because, proud and happy in privileges bestowed by their constitution,
they have never _blamed those in power_: if these prosperous ones deemed
themselves superior to their great fellow-citizen, would it be illiberal
in them to express now a different opinion? Might we not without
rashness affirm, that they should rather hold themselves honored in the
virtue and glory of their illustrious countryman, humbly acknowledging
that their own greater happiness is not the work of their own hands?
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 195: See Introduction.]
[Footnote 196: See "Life in Italy."]
[Footnote 197: Preface to canto xi. of "Don Juan."]
[Footnote 198:
"Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run,
* * * * * * *
Not as in northern climes."
" _Corsair_," canto iii.]
[Footnote 199: See Preface to Marino Faliero.]
[Footnote 200: Moore, Letter 391.]
[Footnote 201: Letter 391.]
[Footnote 202: See chapter on "Religion."]
[Footnote 203: M. Tricoupi, in his interesting "History of the Greek
Revolution," ends his fine article upon Lord Byron, and upon his death,
in the following words:--
"This man's great name, his noble struggle in the midst of misfortunes,
the troubles which he had borne for the sake of Greece, the bright hopes
which he was on the point of seeing realized, proved sufficiently what
the Greeks lost in losing him, and the misfortune which his death was to
them. Each one considered and mourned his loss as a private and as a
public calamity. In ordering the funeral, the governor of the town
exclaimed, 'This time the beautiful Easter rejoicings have turned for us
into hours of bitterness,' and he was right. All forgot Easter in
presence of the blow which was dealt them by the loss of such a man.
"Byron, as a poet, was enthusiastic, but his enthusiasm, like his
poetry, was deep; his policy in Greece was likewise intelligent and
profound. No dreams like those formed by most of the lovers of the
Greeks. No Utopian plans, democratic or anti-democratic. Even the press
appeared to him as yet uncalled-for. The independence of Greece, that
was the essential point at issue, and to obtain this end he counselled
the Greeks to be united among themselves, and to respect foreign courts.
His principal care was the organization of the army, and the procuring
of the funds necessary to maintain it. He loved glory, but only that
which is solid. He refused to take the title of Commander-general of
Continental Greece, which the Government and the nation offered him in
common accord. He hated politics as a rule, and avoided parliamentary
discussions even in his own country...."]