My Recollections of Lord Byron
catastrophe was thus mitigated by the rescue of several victims. Count
Gamba, after dwelling on the good Lord Byron did everywhere, and on the
admirable life he led in Greece, expresses himself as follows in a
letter to Mr. Kennedy:--
"One of his principal objects in Greece was to awaken the Turks as well
as the Greeks to more humane sentiments. You know how he hastened,
whenever the opportunity arose, to purchase the freedom of woman and
children, and to send them back to their homes. He frequently, and not
without incurring danger to himself, rescued Turks from the sanguinary
grasp of the Greek corsairs. When a Moslem brig drifted ashore near
Missolonghi, the Greeks wanted to capture the whole crew; but Lord Byron
opposed it, and promised a reward of a crown for each sailor, and of two
for each officer rescued."
"Coming to Greece," wrote Lord Byron, "one of my principal objects was
to alleviate, as much as possible, the miseries incident to a warfare so
cruel as the present. When the dictates of humanity are in question, I
know no difference between Turks and Greeks. It is enough that those who
want assistance are men, in order to claim the pity and protection of
the meanest pretender to humane feelings. I have found here twenty-four
Turks, including women and children, who have long pined in distress,
far from the means of support and the consolations of their home. The
Government has consigned them to me: I transmit them to Prevesa, whither
they desire to be sent. I hope you will not object to take care that
they may be restored to a place of safety, and that the governor of your
town may accept of my present. The best recompense I could hope for
would be to find that I had inspired the Ottoman commanders with the
same sentiments toward those unhappy Greeks, who may hereafter fall into
their hands.
"BYRON."
"Lord Byron," pursues Count Gamba, "never could witness a calamity as an
idle spectator. He was so alive to the sufferings of others, that he
sometimes allowed himself to be imposed upon too readily by tales of
woe. The least semblance of injustice excited his indignation, and led
him to intervene without a thought for the consequences to himself of
his interposition; and he entertained this feeling not only for his
fellow-creatures but even toward animals."
His compassion extended to every living creature, to every thing that
could feel. Without alluding to his well-known fondness for dogs, and
for the animals of every kind he liked to have about him, and of which
he took the greatest care, it will be sufficient to point out the motive
which led him to deprive himself of the pleasures of the chase,--a
pastime that would have been, from his keen enjoyment of bodily
exercises, so congenial to his tastes. The reason is found in his
memorandum for 1814:--
"The last bird I ever fired at was an eaglet, on the shore of the Gulf
of Lepanto, near Vostitza. It was only wounded, and I tried to save it,
the eye was so bright: but it pined and died in a few days; and I never
did since, and never will, attempt the death of another bird."
Angling, as well as shooting, he considered cruel.
"And angling, too, that solitary vice,
Whatever Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet
Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it."
And, as if he feared not to have expressed strongly enough his aversion
for the cruelties of angling, he adds in a note:--
"It would have taught him humanity at least. This sentimental savage,
whom it is a mode to quote (among the novelists) to show their sympathy
for innocent sports and old songs, teaches how to sew up frogs, and
break their legs by way of experiment, in addition to the art of
angling,--the cruelest, the coldest, and the stupidest of pretended
sports. They may talk about the beauties of nature, but the angler
merely thinks of his dish of fish; he has no leisure to take his eyes
from off the streams, and a single bite is worth to him more than all
the scenery around. Besides, some fish bite best on a rainy day. The
whale, the shark, and the tunny fishery have somewhat of noble and
perilous in them; even net-fishing, trawling, etc., are more humane and
useful. But angling!--no angler can be a good man."
"One of the best men I ever knew (as humane, delicate-minded, generous,
and excellent a creature as any in the world) was an angler; true, he
angled with painted flies, and would have been incapable of the
extravagances of Izaak Walton."
"The above addition was made by a friend, in reading over the
MS.:--'_Audi alteram partem_'--I leave it to counterbalance my own
observations."
It is well known that Lord Byron would not deride certain superstitions,
and was sometimes tempted to exclaim with Hamlet,--
"There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
He, consequently, also conformed to the English superstition, which
involves, under pain of an unlucky year, the eating of a goose at
Michaelmas. Alas! once only he did not eat one, and that year was his
last; but he eat none because, during the journey from Pisa to Genoa, on
Michaelmas eve, he saw the two white geese in their cage in the wagon
that followed his carriage, and felt so sorry for them that he gave
orders they should be spared. After his arrival at Genoa they became
such pets that he caressed them constantly. When he left for Greece he
recommended them to the care of Mr. Kennedy, who was probably kind to
them for the sake of their illustrious protector.
Not only could Lord Byron never contribute voluntarily to the suffering
of a living being, but his pity, his commiseration for the sufferings of
his fellow-creatures showed itself all his life in such habitual
benevolence, in such boundless generosity, that volumes would be
necessary to record his noble deeds.
Although, in thus analyzing and enumerating the proofs of his innate
goodness, we have declared we did not entertain the pretension of
elevating them to the rank of lofty virtues, we are yet compelled to
state that if his generosity was too instinctive to be termed a virtue,
it was yet too admirable to be considered as an instinct; that while in
remaining a quality of his heart, it elevated and transformed itself
often through the exertion of his will into an absolute virtue, and
through all its phases and in its double nature, it presented in Lord
Byron a remarkably rare blending of all that is most lovable and
estimable in the human soul.
Here we merely speak of the generosity that showed itself in benefits
conferred. As to that which consists rather in self-denial, sacrifice
which forgives injuries, and which is the greatest triumph of mortal
courage, that, in a word, is indeed a sublime virtue. Such generosity,
if he possessed it, we will treat of in another chapter.[35]
As we here wish to establish by facts that only which appears to have
been the impulse of his good heart, the difficulty lies in the choice of
proofs, and in the necessity of limiting our narrative. We will,
therefore, in order not to convert this chapter into a volume, forbear
from quoting more than a few instances; but justice requires us to say,
that misfortune or poverty never had recourse to him in vain; that
neither the pecuniary embarrassments of his youth, nor the slender
merits of the applicants, nor any of the pretexts so convenient to weak
or hypocritical[36] liberality, ever could become a reason with him to
refuse those who stretched out their hand to him. The claim of
adversity, as adversity, was a sufficient and sacred one to him, and to
relieve it an imperious impulse.
An appeal was once made to Lord Byron's generosity by an individual
whose bad repute alone might have justified a harsh rebuff. But Lord
Byron, whose charity was of a higher order, looked upon it otherwise.
"Why," said Murray, "should you give L150 to this bad writer, to whom
nobody would give a penny?" "Precisely because nobody is willing to give
him any thing is he the more in need that I should help him," answered
Lord Byron.
A certain Mr. Ashe superintended the publication of a paper called "The
Book," the readers of which were attracted rather by its ill-nature and
scandal, and the revelations it made in lifting the veil that had so far
concealed the most delicate mysteries, than by the talent of the author.
In a fit of repentance this man wrote to Lord Byron, alleging his great
poverty as an apology for having thus prostituted his pen, and imploring
from Lord Byron a gift to enable him to live more honorably in future.
Lord Byron's answer to this letter is so remarkable for its good sense,
kindness, and high tone of honor, that we can not refrain from
reproducing it.
"SIR,--I leave town for a few days to-morrow; on my return I will
answer your letter more at length. Whatever may be your situation,
I can not but commend your resolution to abjure and abandon the
publication and composition of works such as those to which you
have alluded. Depend upon it they amuse few, disgrace both reader
and writer, and benefit none. It will be my wish to assist you, as
far as my limited means will admit, to break such a bondage. In
your answer inform me what sum you think would enable you to
extricate yourself from the hands of your employers, and to regain,
at least, temporary independence, and I shall be glad to contribute
my mite toward it. At present, I must conclude. Your name is not
unknown to me, and I regret, for my own sake, that you have ever
lent it to the works you mention. In saying this, I merely repeat
your own words in your letter to me, and have no wish whatever to
say a single syllable that may appear to insult your misfortunes.
If I have, excuse me: it is unintentional.
BYRON."
Mr. Ashe replied with a request for a sum of about four thousand francs.
Lord Byron having somewhat delayed answering him, Ashe reiterated his
request, complaining of the procrastination; whereupon, "with a kindness
which few," says Moore, "would imitate in a similar case," Byron wrote
to him as follows:--
"SIR,--When you accuse a stranger of neglect, you forget that it is
possible business or absence from London may have interfered to
delay his answer, as has actually occurred in the present instance.
But to the point. I am willing to do what I can to extricate you
from your situation.... I will deposit in Mr. Murray's hands (with
his consent) the sum you mentioned, to be advanced for the time at
ten pounds per month.
"P.S.--I write in the greatest hurry, which may make my letter a
little abrupt; but, as I said before, I have no wish to distress
your feelings.
BYRON."
Ashe, a few months later, asked for the whole amount, to defray his
travelling expenses to New South Wales, and Lord Byron again remitted to
him the entire amount.
On another occasion, some unhappy person being discussed in harsh terms,
the remark was made that he deserved his misery. Lord Byron turned on
the accuser, and fired with generous anger, "Well!" exclaimed he, "if it
be true that N---- is unfortunate, and that he be so through his own
fault, he is doubly to be pitied, because his conscience must poison his
grief with remorse. Such are my morals, and that is why I pity error and
respect misfortune."
The produce of his poems, as long as he remained in England, he devoted
to the relief of his poor relations, or to the assistance of authors in
reduced circumstances. I will not speak of certain traits of heroic
generosity which averted the disgrace and ruin of families, which robbed
vice of many youthful victims, and would cast in the shade many deeds of