"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. Your first scheme I was considering; but your own impatience appears to have rendered it abortive, if not irretrievable. 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. whether between the actions or no. Only if you wish to have all the success you deserve, never listen to friends, and - as I am not the least troublesome of the number least of all to me. 66 I hope you will be out soon. March, sir, March is the month for the trade, and they must be considered. You have written a very noble Poem, and nothing but the detestable taste of the day can do you harm, — but I think you will beat it. Your measure is uncommonly well chosen and wielded."3 In the extracts from his Journal just given, there is a passage that cannot fail to have been remarked, where, in speaking of his admiration of some lady, whose name he has himself left blank, the noble writer says -"a wife would be the salvation of me." It was under this conviction, which not only himself but some of his friends entertained, of the prudence of his taking timely refuge in matrimony from those perplexities which form the sequel of all less regular ties, that he had been induced, about a year before, to turn his thoughts seriously to marriage, at least, as seriously as his thoughts were ever capable of being so turned, — and chiefly, I believe, by the advice and intervention of his friend Lady Melbourne, to become a suitor for the hand of a relative of that lady, Miss Milbanke. Though his proposal was not then accepted, every assurance of friendship and regard accompanied the refusal; a wish was even expressed that they should continue to write to each other, and a correspondence, in consequence, somewhat singular between two young persons of different sexes, inasmuch as love was not the subject of it, ensued between them. We have seen how highly Lord Byron estimated as well the virtues as the accomplishments of the young lady; but it is evident that on neither side, at this period, was love either felt or professed. + In the mean time, new entanglements, in which his heart was the willing dupe of his fancy and vanity, came to engross the young poet and still, as the usual penalties of such pursuits followed, he again found himself sighing for the sober yoke of wedlock, as some security against their recurrence. There were, indeed, in the interval between Miss Milbanke's refusal and acceptance of him, two or three other young women of rank who, at different times, formed the subject of his matrimonial dreams. In the society of one of these, whose family had long honoured me with their friendship, he and I passed much of our time, during this and the preceding spring; and it will be found that, in a subsequent part of his correspondence, he represents me as having entertained an anxious wish that he should so far cultivate my fair friend's favour as to give a chance, at least, of matrimony being the result. That I, more than once, expressed some such feeling, is undoubtedly true. Fully concurring with the opinion, not only of himself, but of others of his friends, that in marriage lay his only chance of salvation from the sort of perplexing attachments into which he was now constantly tempted, I saw in none of those whom he admired with more legitimate views so many requisites for the difficult task of winning him into fidelity and happiness, as in the lady in question. Combining beauty of the highest order with a mind intelligent and ingenuous,-having just learning enough to give refinement to her taste, and far too much taste to make pre he attributes to me. But in taking for granted (as it will appear he did from one of his letters) that I entertained any very decided or definite wishes on the subject, he gave me more credit for seriousness in my suggestions than I deserved. If even the lady herself, the unconscious object of these speculations, by whom he was regarded in no other light than that of a distinguished acquaintance, could have consented to undertake the perilous, but still possible and glorious, achievement of attaching Byron to virtue, I own that, sanguinely as, in theory, I might have looked to the result, I should have seen, not without trembling, the happiness of one whom I had known and valued from her childhood risked in the experiment. - I shall now proceed to resume the thread of the Journal, which I had broken off, and of which, it will be perceived, the noble author himself had, for some weeks, at this time, interrupted the progress. - CHAPTER XX. 1814. NEWSPAPER ASSAULTS. - MR. Hobhouse. tensions to learning, -with a patrician spirit JOURNAL. -THE WEEPING STANZAS. proud as his own, but showing it only in a delicate generosity of spirit, a feminine highmindedness, which would have led her to tolerate his defects in consideration of his noble qualities and his glory, and even to sacrifice silently some of her own happiness rather than violate the responsibility in which she stood pledged to the world for his ; — such was, from long experience, my impres sion of the character of this lady; and perceiving Lord Byron to be attracted by her more obvious claims to admiration, I felt a pleasure no less in rendering justice to the still rarer qualities which she possessed, than in endeavouring to raise my noble friend's mind to the contemplation of a higher model of female character than he had, unluckily for himself, been much in the habit of studying. To this extent do I confess myself to have been influenced by the sort of feeling which 1 Immediately on the appearance of The Corsair, (with those obnoxious verses, " Weep, daughter of a royal line," appended to it,) a series of attacks, not confined to Lord Byron himself, but aimed also at all those who had lately become his friends, was commenced in the Courier and Morning Post, and carried on through the greater part of the months of February and March. The point selected by these writers, as a ground of censure on the poet, was one which now, perhaps, even themselves would agree to class among his claims to praise,-namely, the atonement which he had endeavoured to make for 66 DAN. CONGREVE.-VANBRUGH.-WEST- JOURNAL, 1814.-February 18. Better than a month since I last journalised: -- most of it out of London and at Notts., but a busy one and a pleasant, at least three weeks of it. On my return, I find all the newspapers in hysterics', and town in an uproar, the youthful violence of his Satire by a measure of justice, amiable even in its overflowings, to every one whom he conceived he had wronged. Notwithstanding the careless tone in which, here and elsewhere, he speaks of these assaults, it is evident that they annoyed him; - an effect which, in reading them over now, we should be apt to wonder they could produce, did we not recollect the property which Dryden attributes to "small wits," in common with certain other small animals: "We scarce could know they live, but that they bile.' on the avowal and republication of two stanzas on Princess Charlotte's weeping at Regency's speech to Lauderdale in 1812. ' ;—some of the They are daily at it still;abuse good, all of it hearty. They talk of a motion in our House upon it—be it so. "Got up - redde the Morning Post, containing the battle of Buonaparte 2, the destruction of the Custom-house3, and a paragraph on me as long as my pedigree, and vituperative, as usual. 4 He Hobhouse is returned to England. is my best friend, the most lively, and a man of the most sterling talents extant. success; "The Corsair' has been conceived, written, published, &c. since I last took up this journal. They tell me it has great - it was written con amore, and Murray is satisfied much from existence. with its progress; and if the public are equally so with the perusal, there's an end of the matter. 1 [See Works, p. 552.] 2 [The battle of Brienne was fought, Feb. 1. 1814.] 4 ["We are informed from very good authority, that as soon as the House of Lords meet again, a Peer of very independent principles and character intends to give notice of a motion occasioned by a late spontaneous avowal of a copy of verses by Lord Byron, addressed to the Princess Charlotte of Wales, in which he has taken the most unwarrantable liberties with her august father's character and conduct: this motion being of a personal nature, it will be necessary to give the noble Satirist some The more I see of men, the less I like them. If I could but say so of women too, all I am now would be well. Why can't I? have had six-and-twenty; my passions enough to cool them; my affections more than enough to wither them, — and yet and yet always yet and but - Excellent well, you are a fishmonger-get thee to a nunnery.' They fool me to the top of my bent.' 66 Midnight. 'Began a letter, which I threw into the Did fire. Redde-but to little purpose. I promised and not visit Hobhouse, as ought. No matter, the loss is mine. Smoked cigars. Napoleon! - this week will decide his fate. All seems against him; but I believe at least, beat back and hope he will win the invaders. What right have we to prescribe sovereigns to France? Republic! Brutus, thou sleepest.' Hobhouse abounds in continental anecdotes of this extraordinary man; all in favour of his No wonder ; how should he, intellect and courage, but against his bonhommie. who knows mankind well, do other than despise and abhor them? "The greater the equality, the more impartially evil is distributed, and becomes lighter by the division among so many therefore, a Republic! More notes from Madame de Staël unanswered-and so they shall remain. I admire her abilities, but really her society is all snow and overwhelming - an avalanche that buries one in glittering nonsense sophistry. 66 Shall I go to Mackintosh's on Tuesday? um!-I did not go to Marquis Lansdowne's, nor to Miss Berry's, though both are pleasant. So is Sir James's, but I days' notice, that he may prepare himself for his defence against a charge of so aggravated a nature," &c. Morning Post, Feb. 18.] 5 ["Solitude," said the Doctor one day, "is dangerous to reason, without being favourable to virtue: pleasures of some sort are necessary to the intellectual as to the corporeal health; and those who resist gaiety will be likely, for the most part, to fall a sacrifice to appetite; for the solicitations of sense are always at hand, and a dram to a vacant and solitary person is a speedy and "that seducing relief."-" Remember," continued he, the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly mad: the mind stagnates for want of employment, grows morbid, and is extinguished like All is best,' says Cheyne, as it a candle in foul air. has been, excepting the errors of our own free will.' Burton concludes his long book upon melancholy with this important precept - Be not solitary, be not idle.' Remember Cheyne's position, and observe Burton's precept." Johnsoniana, p. 36.] "Divesne prisco natus ab Inacho. Nil interest, an pauper, et infimâ Victima nil miserantis Orci. 'Is there any thing beyond?-who knows? He that can't tell. Who tells that there is? He who don't know. And when shall he know? perhaps, when he don't expect, and generally when he don't wish it. In this last respect, however, all are not alike: it depends a good deal upon education, something upon nerves and habits - but most upon digestion. Saturday, Feb. 19. "Just returned from seeing Kean in Richard. By Jove, he is a soul! Life-nature - truth without exaggeration or diminution. Kemble's Hamlet is perfect ;- but Hamlet is not Nature. Richard is a man ; and Kean is Richard. Now to my own concerns. "Went to Waite's. Teeth are all right and white; but he says that I grind them in my sleep and chip the edges. That same sleep is no friend of mine, though I court him sometimes for half the twenty-four. I hope, by getting into good society, he will be prevented from falling like Cooke. He is greater now on the stage, and off he should never be less. There is a stupid and underrating criticism upon him in one of the newspapers. I thought that, last night, though great, he rather under-acted more than the first time. This may be the effect of these cavils; but I hope he has more sense than to mind them. He cannot expect to maintain his present eminence, or to advance still higher, without the envy of his green-room fellows, and the nibbling of their admirers. But, if he don't beat them all, why then - - merit hath no purchase in 'these coster-monger days.' "I wish that I had a talent for the drama; I would write a tragedy now. But no, - it is gone. Hodgson talks of one, he will do it well; —and I think M-e [Moore] should try. He has wonderful powers, and much variety; besides, he has lived and felt. To write so as to bring home to the heart, the heart must have been tried, but, perhaps, ceased to be so. While you are under the influence of passions, you only feel, but cannot describe them, - any more than, when in action, you could turn round and tell the story to your next neighbour! When all is - all, all, and irrevocable, trust to memory- she is then but too faithful. over, The sequel of the actor's story, if possible a still sadder and more degrading one than that of his eminent predecessor G. F. Cooke, is given with all tenderness by this biographer.] 3 [Schiller's "Robbers" and "Fiesco" have both been translated into English; the former by Mr. Thompson, the latter by Messrs. Noehden and Stoddart.] ["Monti owed the first diffusion of his reputation to his Aristodemo,' a tragedy, which is a stock play, notwithstanding the passion and interest are totally confined to the chief character."- HOBHOUSE.] [Safie, a poem by John Hamilton Reynolds, Esq., in imitation of Lord Byron, was published in 1814. For Lord Byron's friendly letter of advice to the youthful author, see BYRONIANA.] "Sunday, February 27. "Here I am, alone, instead of dining at Lord H.'s, where I was asked, but not inclined to go any where. Hobhouse says I am growing a loup garou, - a solitary hobgoblin. True; I am myself alone." The last week has been passed in reading — seeing plays now and then visitors -sometimes yawning and sometimes sighing, but no writing, - save of letters. If I could always read, I should never feel the want of society. Do I regret it?-um!- Man delights not me,' and only one woman- at a time. "There is something to me very softening in the presence of a woman, - some strange influence, even if one is not in love with them which I cannot at all account for, having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet, -I always feel in better humour with myself and every thing else, if there is a woman within ken. Even Mrs. Mule', my firelighter, the most ancient and withered of her kind, and (except to myself) not the best-tempered-always makes me laugh, no difficult task when I am 'i' the vein.' "Heigho! I would I were in mine island! -I am not well; and yet I look in good health. At times, I fear, I am not in my perfect mind;'- and yet my heart and head have stood many a crash, and what should ail them now? They prey upon themselves, and I am sick - -sick-Prithee, undo this button why should a cat, a rat, a dog have life—and thou no life at all?' Six-andtwenty years, as they call them, why, I might and should have been a Pasha by this time. 'I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun.'3 This ancient housemaid, of whose gaunt and witchlike appearance it would be impossible to convey any idea but by the pencil, furnished one among the numerous instances of Lord Byron's proneness to attach himself to any thing, however homely, that had once enlisted his good nature in its behalf, and become associated with his thoughts. He first found this old woman at his lodgings in Bennet Street, where, for a whole season, she was the perpetual scarecrow of his visitors. When, next year, he took chambers in Albany, one of the great advantages which his friends looked to in the change was, that they should get rid of this phantom. But, no,there she was again - he had actually brought her with him from Bennet Street. The following year saw him married, and, with a regular establishment of servants, in Piccadilly; and here, as Mrs. Mule had not made her appearance to any of the visitors, it was concluded, rashly, that the witch had vanished. One of those friends, however, who had most fondly indulged in this persuasion, happening to call one day when all the male part of the establishment were abroad, saw, to his dismay, Sunday, March 6. "On Tuesday last dined with Rogers, Madame de Staël, Mackintosh, Sheridan, Erskine, and Payne Knight, Lady Donegal, and Miss R. there. Sheridan told a very good story of himself and Madame de Recamier's handkerchief; Erskine a few stories of himself only. She is going to write a big book about England, she says; -I believe her. Asked by her how I liked Miss * *'s [Edgeworth's] thing, called ** [Patronage], and answered (very sincerely) that I thought it very bad for her, and worse than any of the others. Afterwards thought it possible Lady Donegal 5, being Irish, might be a patroness of ** [Miss Edgeworth], and was rather sorry for my opinion, as I hate putting people into fusses, either with themselves or their favourites; it looks as if one did it on purpose. The party went off very well, and the fish was very much to my gusto. But we got up too soon after the women; and Mrs. Corinne always lingers so long after dinner that we wish her in the drawing room. "To-day C. [Campbell] called, and while sitting here in came Merivale. During our colloquy, C. (ignorant that Merivale was the writer) abused the 'mawkishness of the Quarterly Review of Grimm's Correspondence.' I (knowing the secret) changed the conversation as soon as I could; and C. went away, quite convinced of having made the most favourable impression on his new acquaintance. Merivale is luckily a very good-natured fellow, or, God he knows what might have been engendered from such a mala the door opened by the same grim personage, improved considerably in point of habiliments since he last saw her, and keeping pace with the increased scale of her master's household, as a new peruke, and other symptoms of promotion, testified. When asked "how he came to carry this old woman about with him from place to place," Lord Byron's only answer was, "The poor old devil was so kind to me." 2 ["Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And wish the estate of the world were now undone." 4 [Napoleon fought the battle of Nangis against Blucher on the 17th of February, 1814, and that of Montereau against Prince Schwartzenburg on the following day.] 5 [The Marquis of Donegal married, in 1795, Anna, daughter of the late Sir Edward May, bart.] 6 [J. H. Merivale, Esq., author of "Orlando in Roncesvalles," &c. &c. ; now one of the Commissioners of the Bankruptcy Court.] |