My Recollections of Lord Byron
one hand, and his sister on the other, were the means of curing him of
all ills. Her influence over him is shown by the love expressed for her
in his letters and his notes at that time, and her prudent advice often
puts to flight the more unruly dictates of his imagination. Thus, on one
occasion, Mrs. Musters (Miss Chaworth) wrote to ask Byron to come and
see her. She was miserable that she had preferred her husband to the
handsome young man now the celebrated Byron. Byron is tempted to go and
see her; he loved her so dearly when a boy. But Augusta thought it
dangerous that he should go and see her, and Byron does not.
"Augusta wishes that I should be reconciled with Lord Carlisle," he
says. "I have refused this to every body, but I can not to my sister. I
shall, therefore, have to do it, though I had as lief 'Drink up Esil,'
or 'eat a crocodile.'"
"We will see. Ward, the Hollands, the Lambs, Rogers, every one has,
more or less, tried to settle these matters during the past two years,
but unsuccessfully; if Augusta succeeds it will be odd, and I shall
laugh."
To refuse his sister any thing was out of the question. He loved her so
much that the least likeness to her in any woman was enough to attract
his sympathy. If ill, he would not have his sister know it; if she was
unwell, he can not rest until he received better accounts of her health.
Nothing, however, shows better his love for her than the lines with
which she inspired him at the time of his deepest distress; that is, on
leaving England for Switzerland. I can not transcribe them altogether,
but I can not refuse myself the satisfaction of quoting some extracts
from them.
I.
"When all around grew drear and dark,
And reason half withheld her ray--
And hope but shed a dying spark,
Which more misled my lonely way,
* * * * * * *
Thou wert the solitary star
Which rose and set not to the last.
IV.
"Oh! blest be thine unbroken light!
That watch'd me as a seraph's eye,
And stood between me and the night,
Forever shining sweetly nigh.
VI.
"Still may the spirit dwell on mine,
And teach it what to brave or brook;
There's more in one soft word of thine
Than in the world's defied rebuke."
Again,
"Though human, thou didst not deceive me,
Though woman, thou didst not forsake,
Though loved, though forborest to grieve me,
Though slandered, thou never couldst shake,
Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me,
Though parted, it was not to fly,
Though watchful, 'twas not to defame me,
Nor, mute, that the world might belie.
* * * * * * *
"From the wreck of the past, which hath perish'd,
Thus much I at least may recall,
It hath taught me that what I most cherish'd
Deserved to be dearest of all."
This deep fraternal affection, assumed at times under the influence of
his powerful genius, and under exceptional circumstances an almost too
passionate expression, which opened a fresh field to his enemies. But it
was to him a consolation and a benefit, which did him good throughout
his short career; and even at the times when troubles came pouring down
upon him, the love of his sister, though not sufficient to give him
courage enough to bear up, still always appeared to him as a hope and an
encouragement to do well.
LORD BYRON AS A SON.
The two sentiments of which we have just spoken were so strong and so
proved in Lord Byron, that it would be almost useless to speak of them,
were it not for the pleasure which there is in recalling them.
But there is another natural affection which, though less manifested,
was not less felt by Byron; I mean his filial love.
Many biographers, and Moore at their head, have not, for reasons to
which I have alluded in another chapter, been fair to his mother.
Besides the motives which seem always to have actuated them in the
exaggeration of his faults, and of the smallest particulars of his life,
they wished, I believe, to give to their narrative a more amusing
character. Moore would seem to say that Byron's childhood was badly
directed; but how so? Does he mean that his mother did not justly
appreciate the peculiarities of her child's character, or promote the
fine dispositions of his nature? But such a discernment in parents is
matter of rare occurrence, and can it be said that many known characters
have been handled according to the scientific rules here laid down?
Those who speak of these fine theories would, we fear, be rather puzzled
by their application, were they called to do so.
It is matter of note that Byron was surrounded as a child with the
tenderest care. At a very early age he was handed over, by his
over-indulgent mother and nurses, to most respectable, intelligent, and
devoted masters; and at no time of his youth was either his physical,
intellectual, or moral education ever neglected. I may add that Byron's
mother was respected, both as a wife and as a mother. She was an heiress
belonging to a most ancient Scotch family, and closely allied to the
royal house of Stuart, and was the second wife of the youngest son of
Admiral Byron,--an unusually handsome man, and father to the poet.
Though this man had been rather spoiled by the world, and had not
rendered her life perfectly happy, she loved him passionately, and was
most devoted to him. When he died, four years after their marriage, her
grief was such that it completely changed her nature.
A widow at twenty-three, she centred in her only child all the depth of
her affection, and though her fortune was considerably reduced, she
still had enough to render her child's life comfortable, so that his
education did not suffer by it. He was scarcely six years of age when he
succeeded to the barony of his great-uncle, and this circumstance in a
young Englishman's life always means increased prosperity. His childhood
was, therefore, most decidedly fortunate in many respects. This is all
the more certain that Byron, throughout his life, always spoke of his
happy childhood, and that his ideal of human happiness never seems to
have been realized except at that time.
But, notwithstanding Moore's exaggerations, and the excessive kindness
of his mother, whose whole life was centred in the one thought of
amusing her child, it is very likely that Byron's passionate nature may
have rendered his relations at home less agreeable than they might have
been. However much this may have been the case, it is still more certain
that such little family dissensions never produced in his mind the
slightest germ of ingratitude toward or want of care for his mother, and
that the recollection of his passionate moments only served to make him
acquire by his own efforts that wonderful self-possession for which he
was afterward remarkable.
His filial sentiments betrayed themselves at every period, and in every
circumstance of his life. The reader has seen how, at Harrow, by showing
the names of their parents written on the wall, he prevented his
comrades from setting fire to the school.
On attaining his majority, his first care was to improve the financial
condition of his mother, notwithstanding the shattered state of his
fortune, and to prepare a suitable apartment for her at Newstead.
When the cruel criticisms of the "Edinburgh Review" condemned his first
steps in the career of literature, his chief care after the first
explosion of his own sorrow, was to allay, as far as he could, the
sensitiveness of his mother, who, not having the same motive or power to
summon up a spirit of resistance, was, of course, more helplessly alive
to this attack upon his fame, and felt it far more than, after the first
burst of indignation, he did himself.
During his first travels to the East his affairs were in a very
embarrassed state. But, nevertheless, here are the terms in which he
wrote to his mother from Constantinople:--
"If you have occasion for any pecuniary supply, pray use my funds as far
as they go, without reserve; and, lest this should not be enough, in my
next to Mr. H---- I will direct him to advance any sum you may want."
There is a degree of melancholy in the letter which he wrote to his
mother on his return to England. He had received most deplorable
accounts of his affairs when at Malta, and he applied the terms apathy
and indifference to the sentiments with which he approached his native
land. He goes on to say, however, that the word apathy is not to be
applied to his mother, as he will show; that he wishes her to be the
mistress of Newstead, and to consider him only as the visitor. He brings
her presents of all kinds, etc. "That notwithstanding this alienation,"
adds Moore, "which her own unfortunate temper produced, he should have
continued to consult her wishes, and minister to her comforts with such
unfailing thoughtfulness (as is evinced not only in the frequency of his
letters, but in the almost exclusive appropriation of Newstead to her
use), redounds in no ordinary degree to his honor."
This want of affection never existed but in the minds of some of Byron's
biographers. Lord Byron knew that his mother doted upon him, and that
she watched his growing fame with feverish anxiety.
His successes were passionately looked forward to by her. She had
collected in one volume all the articles which had appeared upon his
first poems and satires, and had written her own remarks in the margin,
which showed that she was possessed of great good sense and considerable
talent. Could, then, such a heart as Lord Byron's be ungrateful, and not
love such a mother? Mr. Galt, a biographer of Byron's, who is certainly
not to be suspected of partiality, renders him, however, full justice in
regard to his filial devotion during the life of his mother, and to the
deep distress which he felt at her death.
"In the mean time, while busily engaged in his literary projects with
Mr. Dallas, and in law affairs with his agent, he was suddenly summoned
to Newstead by the state of his mother's health. Before he reached the
Abbey she had breathed her last. The event deeply affected him.
Notwithstanding her violent temper, her affection for him had been so
fond and ardent that he undoubtedly returned it with unaffected
sincerity; and, from many casual and incidental expressions which I have
heard him employ concerning her, I am persuaded that this filial love
was not at any time even of an ordinary kind."
On the night after his arrival at the Abbey, the waiting-woman of Mrs.
Byron, in passing the door of the room where the corpse lay, heard the
sound of some one sighing heavily within, and, on entering, found his
lordship sitting in the dark beside the bed. She remonstrated, when he
burst into tears, and exclaimed, "I had but one friend in the world, and
she is gone!" This same filial devotion often inspired him with
beautiful lines, such as those in the third canto of "Childe Harold,"
when standing before the tomb of Julia Alpinula, he exclaims:
LXVI.
"And there--oh! sweet and sacred be the name!--
Julia--the daughter, the devoted--gave
Her youth to Heaven; her heart, beneath a claim
Nearest to Heaven's, broke o'er a father's grave.
Justice is sworn 'gainst tears, and hers would crave
The life she lived in; but the Judge was just,
And then she died on him she could not save.
Their tomb was simple, and without a bust,
And held within their urn one mind, one heart, one dust.
LXVII.
"But these are deeds which should not pass away,
And names that must not wither, though the earth
Forgets her empires with a just decay,
The enslavers and the enslaved, their death and birth;
The high, the mountain-majesty of worth