My Recollections of Lord Byron
been pleasant and happy. Finally, when she asked his advice with regard
to her future conduct, he displayed, at twenty-six years of age, the
wisdom that seldom comes before the advent of gray hairs. In short, by
word and by action, he manifested that nobleness of soul which always
unveiled itself to pure open natures, but which closed against
artificial ones; and which makes Miss S---- say at the beginning as well
as at the end of her account:--"There has been but one Byron on earth:
how could I not love him?"
But it is especially on account of the great love she felt for him, on
going over it, reflecting, comparing the depth of feelings she had been
unable to hide from him, with the conduct of this young man of
twenty-six, who drew from duty alone a degree of strength superior to
his age and sex, that she expressed herself thus. She can still see his
looks of tenderness; she can judge what the struggle was, the combat
that was going on in him as soft and stern glances chased each other; at
length she sees honor gain the victory, and remain triumphant.
It is this spectacle of such great moral beauty, still before her eyes,
that can be so well appreciated after the lapse of long years, and which
justifies the words that begin and close her recital by divesting it of
all semblance of exaggeration:--"There has been but one Byron!"
When we have known such beings, admiration and love outlive all else.
And while the causes that may have led to transient emotions in a long
career--an error, a fault--pass away and are forgotten like some
beautiful vision, these glorious remembrances, these more than human
images, tower above, living and radiant, in memory, and even come to
visit us in our dreams, sometimes to reproach us with our useless and
imprudent doubts, ever to sustain us amid the sadnesses of life; and if
the love has been reciprocal, then to console us with the prospect of
another life, in that blessed abode where we shall meet again forever.
After this long narrative, it would be useless and perhaps wearisome for
the reader if we quoted many other similar facts in Lord Byron's life.
They might differ in circumstances, but would all wear the same moral
character.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 87: She had dedicated to him a small collection of poems,
which she sent to Pisa, in 1821, with a letter, _to which she received
no answer_.]
[Footnote 88: "All that," says she, "lives in my heart and soul, as if
these things had taken place a few weeks ago, instead of so many years"
(1864).]
CHAPTER XV.
GENEROSITY A HEROISM.
PARDON, MAGNANIMITY.
It remains for us to examine Lord Byron's generosity under another form.
I mean that which, after having passed by different degrees of moral
beauty, may reach the highest summit of virtue, and become the greatest
triumph of moral strength, because it overcomes the most just
resentments, forgives, returns good for evil, and constitutes the very
heroism of Christian charity.
Did Lord Byron's generosity really attain such a high degree? To
convince ourselves of it, we must again examine his life.
Clemency and forgiveness showed themselves in Lord Byron at all periods
of his life. In childhood, in youth, though so passionate, and so
sensitive at school and at college, so soon as the first explosion was
over, he was ever ready to make peace.
In the poems composed during his boyhood and early youth, he was always
the first to forgive. He even forgave his wicked guardian (Lord
Carlisle). Although this latter only evinced indifference, or worse,
with regard to his ward, Lord Byron dedicated his first poems to him.
The noble earl having further aggravated his faults by behaving in an
unjustifiable manner, Lord Byron was of course greatly irritated, since
he hurled some satirical lines at him. But soon after, at the
intercession of friends, and especially at that of his sister, he showed
himself disposed to forget the faults of his bad guardian with all the
clemency inherent to his generous nature. He writes to Rogers, 27th
June, 1814:--"Are there any chances or possibility of ending this, and
making our peace with Carlisle? I am disposed to do all that is
reasonable (or unreasonable) to arrive at it. I would even have done so
sooner; but the 'Courier' newspaper, and a thousand disagreeable
interpretations, have prevented me."
Afterward, he further sealed this generous pardon by those fine verses
in the third canto of "Childe Harold," where he laments the death of
Major Howard, Lord Carlisle's son, killed at Waterloo.[89]
He forgave Miss Chaworth; and in this case also there was great
generosity. The history of this boyish love is well known. Even if the
name of love should be refused to the feeling entertained by a child of
fifteen for a girl of eighteen, who only looked upon him, it is said, as
a boy, and liked him as a brother, not only on account of the difference
of age, but also because she was already attached to the young man whom
she afterward married, still it can not be denied that these first
awakenings of the heart, though full of illusion, cause great suffering.
For if Lord Byron was a child in years, he was already a young man in
intellect, soul, imagination, and sensibility. That Miss Chaworth should
raise emotion in his heart is very comprehensible, for every girl has
good chances of appearing an angel to youths, whose preference
invariably falls on women older than themselves. Besides, Miss Chaworth
was placed in quite exceptional circumstances with regard to Lord Byron,
such as were well calculated to act powerfully on the imagination of a
boy, and render the dispelling of his poetic dream a most painful
reality.
Miss Chaworth was heiress of the noble family whose name she bore, and
her uncle had been killed in a duel by the last Lord Byron, grand-uncle
of the poet. She resided with her family at Annesley, a seat two miles
distant from Newstead Abbey. Their two properties touched each other;
but the slight barrier separating them was marked with blood. The two
children then, despite their near vicinity, only saw each other by
chance, or by secretly getting over the boundary of their respective
grounds. The chief obstacle to the reconciliation of the two families
was the young girl's father. But when Lord Byron reached his fourteenth
year, and, according to custom, came from Harrow to pass his holidays at
Newstead, Mr. Chaworth was dead, and the mother of the young heiress
received him at Annesley with open arms, for she did not partake her
husband's feelings, but, on the contrary, looked forward with pleasure
to the possibility of a union with her daughter, despite the difference
of age between them. The development of their mutual sympathy was
equally encouraged by the professors, governesses, and all surrounding
the young lady, for they liked young Byron extremely.
From that time he had his room at Annesley, and was looked upon as one
of the family. As to the young lady, she made him the companion of her
amusements. In the gardens, parks, on horseback, in all excursions, he
was constantly by her side. For him she played, and sang to the piano.
What was her love for him? Were there not moments in which she did not
look upon him only as a brother, or a child? Did she ever contemplate
the possibility of becoming his wife?
Moore does not think so.
"Neither is it, indeed, probable," says he, "had even her affections
been disengaged, that Lord Byron would, at this time, have been selected
as the object of them. A seniority of two years gives to a girl, 'on the
eve of womanhood,' an advance into life with which the boy keeps no
proportionate pace. Miss Chaworth looked upon Byron as a mere schoolboy.
His manners, too, were not yet formed, and his great beauty was still in
its promise and not developed."
Galt is still more explicit in the same sense. Washington Irving appears
to think the contrary:--
"Was this love returned?" says he. "Byron sometimes speaks as if it had
been; at other times he says, on the contrary, that she never gave him
reason to believe so. It is, however, probable, that at the commencement
her heart experienced at least fluctuations of feeling: she was at a
dangerous age. Though a child in years, Lord Byron was already a man in
intelligence, a poet in imagination, and possessed of great beauty."
This opinion is the most probable. We may add that every thing must have
contributed to keep up his illusion. Miss Chaworth gave him her
portrait, her hair, and a ring. Mrs. Chaworth, the governess, all the
family of the young heiress liked him so much, that after his death,
when Washington Irving visited Annesley, he found proofs of this
affection in the welcome given to, and the emotion caused even by the
presence of a dog that had belonged to Lord Byron. This beautiful waking
dream lasted, however, only the space of a dream in sleep.
At the expiration of his six weeks' holidays, young Byron returned to
Harrow.
While he was cherishing the sacred flame with his purest energies of
soul, what did she? She had forgotten him! The impression made on her
heart by the schoolboy's love could not withstand the test of absence.
She gave her heart to another.
"I thought myself a man," says he; "I was in earnest, she was fickle."
It was natural, however. She had arrived at the age when girls become
women, and leave their childish loves behind them.
While young Byron was pursuing his studies, Miss Chaworth mixed in
society. She met with a young man, named Musters, remarkable for his
handsome person, and whose property lay contiguous to her own.
She had perceived him one day from her terrace, galloping toward the
park followed by his hounds, the horn sounding in front, and he leading
a fox hunt; she had been struck with his manly beauty and graceful
carriage. From that day his image seated itself in her remembrance, and
probably in her heart. It was under these favorable auspices that he
made her acquaintance in society. Soon he gained her love. And when
young Byron at the next vacation saw her again, she was already the
willing betrothed of another.
That was still, however, a secret locked up in her heart. Her parents
would not have wished this union. She had not then declared her
intentions, and Lord Byron could not of course guess them. He was still
welcomed at Annesley, and treated as heretofore. The young lady herself,
instead of repelling him, continued to accept his attentions. This
lasted until one day when Musters was bathing with Byron in a river
that ran through the park he perceived a ring which he recognized as
having belonged to Miss Chaworth. This discovery, and the scenes it gave
rise to, obliged the lady to declare her preference.
The grief this broken illusion caused Lord Byron is shown by some of his
early verses, and by the "Dream," written at Geneva, while musing how
different his fate might have been if he had married Miss Chaworth,
instead of Miss Milbank. It might be objected that sorrows, the proof of
which rests on poetry, are not very authentic, and that it is not quite
certain they really did pass through his heart. One might consider with
Galt that this childish sentiment was less a real feeling of love than
the phantom of an enthusiastic attachment, quite intellectual in its
nature, like others that possessed such power over Lord Byron, since
Miss Chaworth was not the sole object of his attention, but divided it
with study and passionate friendships. One might say, with Moore, that
the poetic description given by Lord Byron of this childish love, ought
to serve especially to show how genius and sentiment may raise the
realities of life, and give an immense lustre to the most ordinary
events and objects. In short, one might think that Lord Byron perceived