My Recollections of Lord Byron
"My belief is that his religious opinions were not fixed. I mean, that
he was not more inclined toward one than toward another of the Christian
sects; but that his feelings were thoroughly religious, and that he
entertained the highest respect for the doctrines of Christ, which he
considered to be the source of virtue and of goodness. As for the
incomprehensible mysteries of religion, his mind floated in doubts which
he wished most earnestly to dispel, as they oppressed him, and that is
why he never avoided a conversation on the subject, as you are well
aware.
"I have often had an opportunity of observing him at times when the soul
involuntarily expresses its most sincere convictions; in the midst of
dangers, both at sea and on land; in the quiet contemplation of a calm
and beautiful night, in the deepest solitude, etc.; and I remarked that
his thoughts always were imbued with a religious sentiment. The first
time I ever had a conversation with him on that subject was at Ravenna,
my native place, a little more than four years ago. We were riding
together in a pine wood, on a beautiful spring day, and all was
conducive to religious meditation. 'How,' said he 'raising our eyes to
heaven, or directing them to the earth, can we doubt of the existence
of God? Or how, turning them inward, can we doubt that there is
something within us more noble and more durable than the clay of which
we are formed? Those who do not hear, or are unwilling to listen to
those feelings, must necessarily be of a vile nature.' I answered him
with all those reasons which the superficial philosophy of Helvetius,
his disciples and his masters, have taught. He replied with very strong
arguments and profound eloquence, and I perceived that obstinate
contradiction on this subject, forcing him to reason upon it, gave him
pain. This discourse made a deep impression on me.
"Many times, and in various circumstances, I have heard him confirm the
same sentiments, and he always seemed to me to be deeply convinced of
their truth. Last year, at Genoa, when we were preparing for our journey
to Greece, he used to converse with me alone for two or three hours
every evening, seated on the terrace of his palace in Albano, in the
fine evenings of spring, whence there opened a magnificent view of that
superb city and the adjoining sea. Our conversation turned almost always
on Greece, for which we were so soon to depart, or on religious
subjects. In various ways I heard him confirm the sentiments which I
have already mentioned to you. 'Why, then,' said I to him, 'have you
earned for yourself the name of impious, and enemy of all religious
belief, from your writings?' He answered, 'They are not understood, and
are wrongly interpreted by the malevolent. My object is only to combat
hypocrisy, which I abhor in every thing, and particularly in religion,
and which now unfortunately appears to me to be prevalent, ... and for
this alone do those to whom you allude wish to render me odious, and
make me out to be an impious person, and a monster of incredulity.'
"For the Bible he had always a particular respect. It was his custom to
have it always on his study table, particularly during these last
months; and you well know how familiar it was to him, since he sometimes
knew how to correct your inaccurate citations.
"Fletcher may have informed you about his happy state of mind in his
last moments. He often repeated subjects from the Testament, and when,
in his last moments, he had in vain attempted to make known his wishes
with respect to his daughter, and others most dear to him in life, and
when, on account of the wanderings of his mind, he could not succeed in
making himself understood, Fletcher answered him, 'Nothing is nearer my
heart than to execute your wishes; but, unfortunately, I have scarcely
been able to comprehend half of them.' 'Is it possible?' he replied.
'Alas! it is too late. How unfortunate! Not my will, but the will of God
be done.' There remained to him only a few intervals of reason and
interruptions of delirium, the effect of determination of blood to the
head.
"He often expressed to me the contempt which he felt for those called
_esprits forts_ (a set of ignorant egotists, incapable of any generous
action, and hypocrites themselves), in their affected contempt of every
faith.
"He professed a complete toleration, and a particular respect for every
sincere conviction. He would have deemed it an unpardonable crime to
detach any one persuaded of the truth from his belief, although it might
be tinctured with absurdity, because he believed it could lead to no
other end than to render him an infidel."
After so many proofs of Byron's religious tendencies, is it not right to
ask, What was that skepticism of which so much has been said that it has
been almost received as a fact by the world generally? Did he not
believe in the necessity of religion? In a God, Creator of all things?
In the spirituality, and therefore immortality, of the soul? In our
liberty of action, and our moral responsibility? We have seen what
others have said on each of these subjects; let us now see what he said
himself upon the subject. But some will object, "Are you going to judge
of his views from his poetry? Can one attach much importance to opinions
expressed in verse? Do not poets often say that which they do not think,
but which genius inspires them to write? Are such dictates to be
considered as their own views?" Such objections may be valid, and we
shall so far respect them, therefore, as to dismiss Lord Byron's poetry,
and treat only of that which he has written in prose: we will not
consider him when under the influence of inspiration and of genius, but
when given up entirely to the silent examination of his conscience. What
did his thorough good sense tell him about religion in general? The
following note, in which he repels the stupid and wicked attacks of
Southey, who called him a skeptic, will prove it:--
"One mode of worship yields to another, but there never will be a
country without a worship of some sort. Some will instance France; but
the Parisians alone, and a fanatical faction of them, maintained for a
short time the absurd dogma of theophilanthropy. If the English Church
is upset, it will be by the hands of its own sectaries, not by those of
skeptics. People are too wise, too well informed, to submit to an
impious unbelief. There may exist a few speculators without faith; but
they are small in numbers, and their opinions, being without enthusiasm
or appeal to the passions, can not make proselytes unless they are
persecuted, that being the only means of augmenting any sects."
"'I am always,' he writes in his memorandum, 'most religious upon a
sunshiny day, as if there were some association, some internal approach
to greater light and purity and the kindler of this dark lantern of our
existence.
"'The night had also a religious influence, and even more so when I
viewed the moon and stars through Herschel's telescope, and saw that
they were worlds.'"
And what thought Byron of the existence of God? "Supposing even," he
says, "that man existed before God, even his higher pre-Adamite
supposititious creation must have had an origin and a creator, for a
creation is a more natural imagination than a fortuitous concourse of
atoms; all things remount to a fountain, though they may flow to an
ocean.
"If, according to some speculations, you could prove the world many
thousand years older than the Mosaic chronology, or if you could get rid
of Adam and Eve, and the apple, and serpent, still what is to be set up
in their stead? or how is the difficulty removed? Things must have had a
beginning, and what matters it when or how?"
If Byron did not question the existence of God, did he doubt the
spirituality and immortality of the soul? Here are some of his
answers:--
"What is poetry?" he asked himself in his memorandum, and he
replied--"The feeling of a former world and future." And further, in the
same memorandum:--
"Of the immortality of the soul, it appears to me that there can be
little doubt, if we attend to the action of the mind for a moment: it is
in perpetual activity. I used to doubt it, but reflection has taught me
better. The stoics Epictetus and Aurelius call the present state 'a soul
which draws a carcass'--a heavy chain, to be sure, but all chains, being
material, may be shaken off. How far our future life will be individual,
or, rather, how far it will at all resemble our present existence, is
another question; but that the mind is eternal, seems as probable as
that the body is not so. Of course, I here venture upon the question
without recurring to revelation, which, however, is at least as rational
a solution of it as any other. A material resurrection seems strange and
even absurd, except for purposes of punishment: and all punishment which
is to revenge, rather than correct, must be morally wrong: and when the
world is at an end, what moral or warning purpose can eternal tortures
answer? Human passions have probably disfigured the Divine doctrines
here; but the whole thing is inscrutable."
And again:--
"I have often been inclined to materialism in philosophy; but could
never bear its introduction into Christianity, which appears to me
essentially founded upon the soul. For this reason, Priestley's
'Christian Materialism' always struck me as deadly. Believe the
resurrection of the body, if you will, but not without a soul. The deuce
is in it, if after having had a soul (as, surely, the mind, or whatever
you call it, is) in this world, we must part with it in the next, even
for an immortal materiality; and I own my partiality for spirit."
It has already been seen that, in his early youth, he was intimately
convinced of the immortality of his soul, by the fact of the existence
of his conscience. But it is equally proved that, as his soul became
more perfect, and rose more and more toward all that is great and
virtuous, his conviction of the immortality of the soul became still
more certain.
The beautiful words which he addressed to Mr. Parry, a few hours before
his agony, confirm our assertions:--
"Eternity and space are before me; but on this subject, thank God, I am
happy and at ease. The thought of living eternally, of again reviving,
is a great pleasure. Christianity is the purest and most liberal
religion in the world; but the numerous teachers who are continually
worrying mankind with their denunciations and their doctrines, are the
greatest enemies of religion. I have read, with more attention than half
of them, the Book of Christianity, and I admire the liberal and truly
charitable principles which Christ has laid down. There are questions
connected with this subject, which none but Almighty God can solve. Time
and space, who can conceive? None but God: on Him I rely."
If he neither questioned the existence of God nor the spirituality and
immortality of the soul, did he question our liberty of thought, and
hence our moral responsibility?
To put such a question, is to misunderstand Byron completely. Who, more
than Byron, ever believed in our right of judgment, and proclaimed that
right more strenuously than he has, in prose and in verse? Let any one
who has read "Manfred," say whether a poet ever developed such Christian
and philosophical views with greater energy and power.
Did Lord Byron really question, in his poems, the infinite goodness of
God, as he has been accused of doing? Did his doubts and perplexities of
mind, caused by the terrible knowledge of the existence of evil, ever go
beyond the limits of the doubts which beset the minds of intellectual
men, when the light of faith fails to aid them in their philosophical
researches after truth?