My Recollections of Lord Byron
"is the great antagonist of pride."
But, the most striking proof of all, undoubtedly, consists in the
improvement of his moral being that was perpetually going on; for, to
carry it out, he must have dived into the depths of his secret soul,
sternly and conscientiously, undeterred by the great obstacle to all
self-amelioration, namely--pride.
So many facts, in support of the same assertions, are to be found spread
through the different chapters of this work, that we forbear to
lengthen the present view of Lord Byron's character by adducing any
more. Let us sum up by saying, that not only was Lord Byron devoid of
pride, but that it would be difficult to find in any man more striking
examples of the opposite virtues; unless, indeed, we sought them in
souls completely swayed by the sublimest teachings of Christianity.
And yet it is easy to understand how he might be accused of pride. His
contempt for opinion, augmenting as he further appreciated its little
worth; a certain natural timidity, of which Moore, Galt, and Pigott have
all spoken, though without drawing thence the logical inferences; his
eagerness to put down the unfounded _ridiculous pretensions of human
nature_; his own dignity under misfortune; his magnanimity and passion
for independence; all these qualities might easily betray those
superficial minds into error, who do not study their subjects
sufficiently to discover the truth.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 130: See what Moore says of this trait in Lord Byron.]
CHAPTER XXI.
THE VANITY OF LORD BYRON.
But it is incomprehensible that any one should have been found to accuse
Lord Byron of vanity. For is not the vain man one who lies in order to
appear better and more highly gifted than he really is; who knows full
well that the good opinion he so ardently seeks is not what he deserves;
who endeavors by every means to attract the attention of others; who
flatters in order to be flattered; whose willingness to oblige, whose
care and kindness, all flow from interested motives; whose whole
character savors of ostentation and show; and who despises humble
friends, in order to run after brilliant society and wear borrowed
plumes? All these signs indicate vanity. Can a single one be found in
Byron's character?
Surely our readers will not have forgotten that, for fear of making
himself out better, he always wished to appear worse than he was; that
he exaggerated the weaknesses common to most of us, and which every body
else hides, magnifying them into serious faults; that he never flattered
others, nor wished to be flattered himself; that he concealed the
services he rendered, the good he did; and kept aloof from those in
power so as to give himself more to true friendship.
We know besides that his love of _meriting_, rather than _obtaining_,
admiration, went so far as to make undeserved praise quite offensive to
him. If eulogiums did not seem to him duly bestowed, his soul, athirst
for justice and truth, repelled them indignantly. Blame, or harsh
criticism, annoyed him far less than unmerited praise or suffrages
obtained through favor or intrigue. At the moment he was about to
publish his first poem, "Childe Harold," which might naturally be
expected to prove the making of his literary reputation, Dallas having
given him some advice with a view to gaining popularity, Lord Byron
answered:--
"My work must make its way as well as it can; I know I have every thing
against me, angry poets and prejudices; but if the poem is a _poem_, it
will surmount these obstacles, and if _not_, it deserves its fate."
And then, when he discovered that his publisher had been taking steps to
obtain the approbation of Gifford, the great critic, he wrote
indignantly to Dallas, calling this proceeding of Murray's _a paltry
transaction_.
"The more I think, the more it vexes me," said he. "It is bad enough to
be a scribbler, without having recourse to such shifts to extort praise
or deprecate censure, ... and all without my wish, and contrary to my
express desire....[131]
"I am angry with Murray: it was a bookselling, back-shop, paltry
proceeding.... I have written to him as he never was written to before
by an author, I'll be sworn."
Why, then, accuse a man of vanity when he never complained of criticism
and never solicited praise? Was it on account of some of his tastes,
particularly the importance he attached to his superiority in boyish
games, in bodily exercises, on those which showed dexterity in swimming,
fencing, shooting? But all these tastes were as manly as they were
innocent. The really trifling tastes common to the youth of his rank and
country Lord Byron did not share.
It has also been said that he attached far too much importance to his
noble birth. _Much_, perhaps; _too much_, by no means. His ancestors
were all illustrious. They were illustrious for their military exploits,
and were already nobles in France when they shared the dangers and
successes of William the Conqueror; they had followed their kings to
Palestine; seven brothers bearing the name of Byron had fought on the
same battle-field, and four fell there in defense of their true
sovereign and their new country. By his mother he was descended from the
kings of Scotland. "Nothing is nobler," says a moralist of our day,
"than to add lustre to a great name by our own deeds."
Many of his early compositions testify to the desire he felt of
increasing the fame that belonged to his family. For instance, in the
poem written at fourteen, and which is entitled "Verses composed on
leaving Newstead Abbey," after having sung the valor of his ancestors
displayed on the plains of Palestine, in the valley of Crecy, and at
Marston, where four brothers moistened the field with their blood, he
exclaims:--
"Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant, departing
From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu!
Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting
New courage, he'll think upon glory and you.
* * * * * * *
Far distant he goes, with the same emulation,
The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget.
"That fame and that memory still will he cherish;
He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown:
Like you will he live, or like you will he perish." 1803.
The same sentiments appear in other poems, and particularly in the
"Elegy on Newstead," written at sixteen. His wish of adding fresh lustre
to the family name was all the stronger because the last lord, his great
uncle, had somewhat blemished it by his eccentric conduct.
But there is a vast difference between this just feeling of pride and
the vanity that leads to exultation in mere titles of nobility, which
often owe their origin to the favor of princes. Besides, although Lord
Byron was aristocratic by birth, and in his every instinct and taste, he
was nevertheless truly liberal on principle and through virtue, in
politics as well as in private life; for he always admitted into his
affections those who possessed fitting qualities of head and soul,
without any consideration of their birth.
After having studied Lord Byron's character under the headings of pride
and vanity, we must now examine him with regard to ambition: a third
form of self-love, which, though separated from the other two by
scarcely perceptible shades, and even being often confounded with them,
so as to appear one and the same feeling, does not, however, less retain
its permanent and distinguishing traits.
Was Lord Byron ambitious?
"Ambitious men must be divided into three classes," says Bacon; "some
seek only to raise themselves, forming a common and despicable species;
others, with like intent, make the elevation of country enter into the
means they employ; this is a nobler ambition, one more refined, and
perhaps more violent; lastly, others embrace the happiness and glory of
all men in the immensity of their projects.... Ambition is, then,
sometimes a vice, and sometimes a virtue."
That Lord Byron's ambition did not range him among either of the two
first classes was abundantly proved by the actions of his whole life;
and as to his writings, letters, or poetic works, we should vainly seek
a single word in them that could be attributed to any low ambition.
An ambitious man has generally been an ambitious child. Now, according
to unanimous and competent testimony, Lord Byron was not an ambitious
child. The usual emulation founded on ambition had no effect on his
progress. All his advancement proceeded from heart and imagination. It
was his heart, as we have seen, that made him take his pen in hand, that
dictated his first verses; and he was likewise actuated by the need and
the pleasure of trying and exercising the strength of his intellectual
faculties, of keeping up the sacred fire that warmed his breast, and
appeasing his ardent thirst after truth. We have given too many proofs
of all this to require to insist upon it any further.
We have also seen that it was disagreeable to him to be admired and
praised without having merited it. He felt the same repugnance to
seeking for popularity. When "Childe Harold" appeared, Dallas advised
him to alter some passages, because, he said, certain metaphysical ideas
expressed in the poem might do him harm in public opinion, and that, at
twenty-three years of age, it was well to court in an honorable way the
suffrages of his countrymen, and to abstain from wounding their
feelings, opinions, and even their prejudices.[132] Lord Byron
replied:--
"I feel that you are right, but I also feel that I am sincere, and that
if I am only to write _ad captandum vulgus_, I might as well edit a
magazine at once, or concoct songs for Vauxhall."[133]
And yet when he wrote thus to Dallas he had not arrived at any
popularity.
Soon, however, it came to him unsought; but he did not appreciate it
nor flatter it to stay, as an ambitious man would not have failed to do.
On the contrary, his noble independence of character and incapacity for
flattering the multitude gained strength every day. Proofs of the same
abound at every period of his life.
"If I valued fame," he said in his memoranda, 1813, "I should flatter
received opinions, which have gathered strength by time, and which will
last longer than any living works that are opposed to them. But, for the
soul of me, I can not and will not give the lie to my own thoughts and
doubts, come what may. If I am a fool, I am, at least, a doubting one;
and I envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom."
And then, at the same time, he wrote:--
"If I had any views in this country they would probably be
parliamentary. But I have no ambition; at least, if any, it would be
'_aut Caesar aut nihil_.' My hopes are limited to the arrangement of my
affairs, and settling either in Italy or in the East (rather the last),
and drinking deep of the language and literature of both."
The catastrophe that overtook Napoleon, his hero, and the success of
fools, quite overcame him at this time:--
"Past events have unnerved me, and all I can now do is to make life an
amusement and look on while others play. After all, even the highest
game of crosses and sceptres, what is it? _Vide_ Napoleon's last
twelvemonth," etc., etc.
The following year (1814), when political feeling ran so high against
him as to threaten his popularity on account of the lines addressed to
the Princess Charlotte, which had offended the regent, who had just gone
over from the Whigs to the Tories, Byron wrote to Rogers:--
"All the sayings and doings in the world shall not make me utter one
word of conciliation to any thing that breathes. I shall bear what I
can, and what I can not I shall resist. The worst they could do would be