Harold's Pilgrimage, and continued a con-
versation, which so fascinated the Poet,
234 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
that had it not been for an accidental de-
ferring of the next levee, he bade fair to
become a visitor at Carlton House, if not a
complete courtier.
I called on him on the morning for w^hich
the levee had been appointed, and found
him in a full-dress court suit of clothes,
vv^ith his fine black hair in pov^der, which
by no means suited his countenance. I vs^as
surprised, as he had not told me that he
should go to Court ; and it seemed to me as
if he thought it necessary to apologize for
his intention, by his observing, that he could
not in decency but do it, as the Regent had
done him the honour to say that he hoped
to see him soon at Carlton House. In spite
of his assumed philosophical contempt of
royalty, and of his decided junction with
the opposition, he had not been able to
withstand the powerful operation of royal
praise ; which, however, continued to in-
fluence him only till flattery of a more con-
LIFE OF LORD BYROxN. 235
genial kind diverted him from the enjoy-
ment of that which for a moment he was
disposed to receive. The levee had been
suddenly put off, and he was dressed before
he was informed of the alteration which
had taken place.
It was the first and the last time he
was ever so dressed, at least for a British
Court. A newly-made friend of his
#
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
Lord Byron was more than half prepared to
yield to this influence ; and the harsh verses
that proceeded from his pen, were, I be-
lieve, composed more to humour his new
friend's passions than his own. Certain it
is, he gave up all ideas of appearing at
Court, ^and fell into the habit of speaking
disrespectfully of the Prince.
But his poem flew to every part of the
kingdom, indeed of the world; his fame
236 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
hourly increased ; and he all at once found
himself " translated to the spheres," and
complimented by all, with an elevated
character, possessing youthful brilliancy,
alas ! without the stamen necessary to sup-
port it.
A gratifying compliment was paid him
on the appearance of Childe Harold's Pil-
grimage, by the order given by the Prin-
cess Charlotte for its being magnificently
bound. It was displayed for some days in
Ebers's shop, in Bond-street. Lord Byron
was highly pleased when I described it
to him.
Among the testimonies of the high feel-
ing which the blaze of his genius produced,
I admired and selected a letter to him from
the late Dr. Clarke, which I have an addi-
tional pleasure in inserting here, as it does
not appear in the Doctor's correspondence
lately given to the public : —
LIFE OP LORD BYRON. 237
*' Dear Lord Byron,
" From the eagerness which I felt to make
known my opinion of your Poem, before others
had expressed any upon the subject, I waited
upon you to deliver my hasty, although hearty,
commendation. If it be worthy your acceptance,
take it once more, in a more deliberate form !
Upon my arrival in town I found that Mathias
entirely coincided with me. Surely, said I to
him. Lord Byron, at this time of life, cannot
have experienced such keen anguish, as those
exquisite allusions to what older men mai/ have
felt seem to denote. This was his answer,
* I fear he has — he could not else have written such
a Poem.' This morning I read the second Canto
with all the attention it so highly merits, in the
peace and stillness of my study ; and I am ready
to confess I was never so much affected by any
poem., passionately fond of poetry as I have
been from earliest youth. When, after the 9th
stanza you introduce the first line of the 1 0th,
Here let me sit upon the mossy stone ;
238 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
the thought and the expression are so truly
Petrarch's, that I would ask you whether you ever
read
Poi quando '1 vero sgombra
Quel dolce eiTor pur li medesmo assido
Me freddo, pietra morta in pietra viva ;
In guisa d' uom che pensi e piange e scriva.
Thus rendered by Mr. Wilmot, the only person
capable of making Petrarch speak English : —
But when rude truth destroys
The loved illusion of die dreamed sweets,
/ sit me down on the cold rugged stone,
Less cold, less dead than I, and think and weep alone.
" The eighth stanza, * Yet if as holiest men," &c.
has never been surpassed. In the 23d, the sen-
timent is at variance with Dryden,
Strange cozenage ! none would live past years again :
and it is perhaps an instance wherein for the first
time I found not within my own breast an echo
to your thought, for I would not ' be once more
a hoy ;' but the generahty of men will agree with
you, and wish to tread life's path again.
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 239
" In the 12th stanza of the same Canto, you
might really add a very curious note to these
lines —
Her sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard,
Yet felt some portion of their mother's pains ;
by Stating this fact:~When the last of the
metopes was taken from the Parthenon, and, in
moving it, great part of the superstructure with
one the triglyphs was thrown down by the
workmen whom Lord Elgin employed, the Dis-
dar, who beheld the mischief done to the building,
took his pipe out of his mouth, dropped a tear,
and, in a supplicating tone of voice, said to
Lusieri — TsXoa- ! I was present at the time.
" Once more I thank you for the gratification
you have afforded me.
" Believe me,
" Ever yours most truly,
" E. D. Clarke."
" Trumpington,
" Wednesday Morning.''''
240 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
CHAPTER X.
SUPPRESSION OF THE SATIRE AND HINTS FROM
HORACE. -FIRST SALE OF NEWSTE AD-
PROPOSED NOVEL.
Though flattery had now deeply inoculated
him with its poison, he was at first unwil-
ling to own its effects even to himself; and
to me he declared that he did not rehsh
society, and was resolved never to mix
with it. He made no resistance however to
its invitations, and in a very short time he
not only willingly obeyed the summons of
fashion, but became a votary. One even-
ing, seeing his carriage at the door in St.
James's Street, I knocked, and found him
at home. He was engaged to a party, but
it was not time to go, and I sat nearly an
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 241
hour with him. He had been reading
Childe Harold, and continued to read some
passages of it aloud,— he enjoyed it, and I
enjoyed it doubly. On putting it down, he
talked of the parties he had been at, and
of those to which he was invited, and con-
fessed an alteration in his mind ; " I own,"
said he, " I begin to like them."
Holland House, on which so much of the
point of his satire had been directed, being
now one of his most flattering resorts, it
was no longer difficult to persuade him to
suppress his satirical writings. The fifth
edition of " English Bards and Scotch
Reviewers" was now ready to issue from
the press ; the " Hints from Horace" was
far advanced ; and the '* Curse of Minerva"
was in preparation. He had not listened
to me fully ; but he had begun not only to
be easy at the delay of the printing of
these poems, but to desire that delay, as
if he had it already in contemplation to
242 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
be guided by the reception of Childe Ha-
rold's Pilgrimage. Yet even after this was
clear, he did not immediately decide upon
the suppression of them; till some of
his new friends requested it. Upon this,
the bookseller who was to publish them,
Cawthorn, was apprised of the author's in-
tention, and was desired to commit the
whole of the new edition of " English
Bards and Scotch Reviewers," to the
flames ; and the carrying this into execu-
tion was entrusted entirely to him.
The expenses of the edition being de-
frayed, as well as those attending the other
poems that were also stopped in the press,
and the bookseller having reaped all the
profits of the four preceding editions, he
had literally no right to complain on this
subject ; but as far as respects the right at-
tached to expectations raised, he had, per-
haps, cause to think himself ill used. He
had undertaken to publish what had been
LIFE OP LORD BYRON. 243
refused by other publishers ; had risked
making enemies, and had not neglected the
publication entrusted to him. He ought to
have had the advantages attending the cir-
culation of the author's other works. I
wished it, and proposed it. Lord Byron
had been directed to Miller as the publisher
in fashion; and from motives I have already
stated, Cawthorn was deprived of a patron-
age, which he reasonably expected. He
naturally felt sore, but endeavoured to sub-
mit with a good grace. The suppression
of the satire was gratifying to Lord By-
ron's new friends ; but it had the effect of
raising the value of the copies that could
be obtained. An Irish edition was circu-
lated unadvertized, but it did not appear to
renew animosity. He was completely for-
given as the venomous satirist, and em-
braced as the successful poet of the Pil-
grimage. I must not omit to say that he
had some occasional doubts, or rather mo-
R 2
244 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
ments of assumed modesty, as to the merit
of his new poem, in spite of its success.
" I may place a great deal of it," said he,
" to being a lord." And again,—" I have
made them afraid of me." There may be
something in both these remarks, as they
regard the celerity of his fame, and the
readiness of the **all hail," that was given
to him ; but the impression made by Childe
Harold on reiterated perusals, and the nerve
of his succeeding works, leave not a mo-
ment's doubt of his success being indeed
the just meed of his genius.
I was now to see Lord Byron in a new
point of view. The town was full of com-
pany, as usual in the spring. Besides the
speech he had made on the Frame-breaking
Bill, he again attracted notice on the Ca-
tholic Question, which was agitated warmly
by the peers in the beginning of April.
His name was in every mouth, and his
poem in every hand. He converted criti-
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 245
cism to adulation, and admiration to love.
His stanzas abounded with passages which
impressed on the heart of his readers pity
for the miserable feehngs of a youth who
could express so admirably what he felt ;
and this pity, uniting with the dehght pro-
ceeding from his poetry, generated a gene-
ral affection of which he knew not the
value ; for while the real fruits of happi-
ness clustered around him, he neglected
them, and became absorbed in gratifications
that could only tend to injure the reputa-
tion he had gained. He professedly des-
pised the society of women, yet female
adulation became the most captivating
charm to his heart. He had not admitted
the ladies of his own family to any degree
of intimacy ; his aunts, his cousins, were
kept at a distance, and even his sister had
hitherto shared the like fate. Among the
admirers who had paid their tribute in prose
or verse to the muse of the Pilgrimage, I
246 RECOLLECTIONS OP THE
have already mentioned one who asked for
an acknowledgment of the receipt of her
letter. He had treated that letter lightly,
and said he would not answer it. He was
not able to keep his resolution ; and on find-
ing his correspondent to be a fine young
woman, and distinguished for eccentric no-
tions, he became so enraptured, so intoxi-
cated, that his time and thoughts were al-
most entirely devoted to reading her letters
and answering them. One morning he was
so absorbed in the composition of a letter
to her, that he barely noticed me as I en-
tered the room. I said, " Pray go on ;" and
sat down at one side of the table at which
he was writing, where I looked over a news-
paper for some time. Finding that he did
not conclude, I looked at him, and was as-
tonished at the complete abstraction of his
mind, and at the emanation of his senti-
ments on his countenance. He had a pe-
culiar smile on his lips ; his eyes beamed
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 247
the pleasure he felt from what was passing
from his imagination to his paper; he looked
at me and then at his writing, but I am
persuaded he did not see me, and that the
thoughts with which he teemed prevented
his discerning any thing about him. I said,
^' I see you are deeply engaged." His ear
was as little open to sound as his eye to
vision. I got up ; on which he said, " Pray
sit." I answered that I would return. This
roused him a little, and he said, " I wish
you would." I do not think he knew what
passed, or observed my quitting him. This
scene gave me great pain. I began to fear
that his fame would be dearly bought.
Previous to the appearance of Childe
Harold's Pilgrimage, his mind had gained
some important conquests over his senses ;
and I also thought he had barred his heart
against the grosser attacks of the passion
of vanit}^ If these avenues of destruction
to the soul were again to be thrown open
248 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
by the publication of the poem, it were
better that it had never been published. I
called upon him the next day, when I found
him in his usual good-humour. He told me
to whom he had been writing, and said he
hoped I never thought him rude. I took
my usual liberty with him, and honestly
warned him against his new dangers.
While I was with him the lady's page
brought him a new letter. He was a fair-
faced delicate boy of thirteen or fourteen
years old, whom one might have taken for
the lady herself. He was dressed in a
scarlet huzzar jacket and pantaloons,
trimmed in front in much the same manner
with silver buttons, and twisted silver lace,
with which the narrow slit cuffs of his
jacket were also embroidered. He had
light hair curling about his face ; and held
a feathered fancy hat in his hand, which
completed the scenic appearance of this
urchin Pandarus. I could not but suspect
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 240
at the time that it was a disguise. If so, he
never disclosed it to me, and as he had
hitherto had no reserve with me, the
thought vanished with the object of it,
and I do not precisely recollect the mode of
his exit. I wished it otherwise, but wish-
ing was in vain.
Lord Byron passed the spring and sum-
mer of 1812 intoxicated with success, at-
tentions of every kind, and fame. In the
month of April he again promised me the
letters to his mother as a pledge that he
would not part with Newstead ; but early
in the autumn he told me that he was urged
by his man of business, and that Newstead
must be sold. This lawyer appears to have
had an undue sway over him. Newstead
was brought to the hammer at Garra way's.
I attended the auction. Nev/stead was
not sold, only 90,000^. being offered for it.
What I remember that day affected me
considerably. The auctioneer was ques-
250 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
tioned respecting the title; he answered,
that the title was a grant from Henry VIII.
to an ancestor of Lord Byron's, and that
the estate had ever since regularly de-
scended in the family. I rejoiced to think
it had escaped that day ; but my pleasure
did not last long. From Garraway's I
went to St. James's Street, when he told
me that he had made a private agreement
for it with Mr. Claughton, for the sum of
140,000Z. I saw the agreement — but some
time after it turned out that the purchaser
could not complete the purchase, and for-
feited, I think, 20,000/., the estate remain-
ing Lord Byron s. It has been since sold, I
know not for what sum, as I was abroad at
the time ; and my correspondence with Lord
Byron had ceased. It is a legal maxim
that, " the law abhors a perpetuity." I
have nothing to say against opening the
landed property of the kingdom to pur-
chasers who may be more worthy of it
LIFE OP LORD BYRON. 251
than the sellers, but there are two con-
siderations which cannot but affect the
mind of a thinking man. It disgraces an-
cestry, and it robs posterity. A property
bestowed, like Newstead, for deeds of va-
lour and loyalty, is a sacred gift ; and the
inheritor that turns it into money commits
a kind of sacrilege. He may have a legal,
but he has no moral, no honourable right
to divert the transmission of it from the
blood that gained it. I cannot but think
that the reviewer in the Edinburgh Re-
view, who speaks of Newstead, has over-
shot his aim in ornamenting the abbey with
the bright reflections of its possessor's ge-
nius ; in a poet, imagination requires the
alliance of soul ; without both, no man can
be a whole poet. Lord Byron should have
ate his daily biscuit with his cup of tea to
preserve Newstead. The reviewer's re-
marks arose from a perusal of the account
252 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
given of it by Walpole. I will here insert
the account and the critique :
" As I returned," says Walpole, " I saw
Newstead and Althorpe ; I like both. The
former is the very Abbey. The great east
window of the church remains, and con-
nects with the house ; the hall entire, the
refectory entire, the cloister untouched,
with the ancient cistern of the convent,
and their arms on : it has a private chapel
quite perfect. The park, which is still
charming, has not been so much unpro-
faned. The present lord has lost large
sums, and paid part in old oaks ; five thou-
sand pounds of which have been cut near
the house. In recompense, he has built
two baby forts, to pay his country in castles
for damage done to the navy ; and planted
a handful of Scotch firs, that look like
plough-boys dressed in old family liveries
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 253
for a public day. In the hall is a very good
collection of pictures, all animals ; the re-
fectory, now the great drawing-room, is
full of Byrons ; the vaulted roof remaining,
but the windows have new dresses making
for them by a Venetian tailor."
On this the reviewer remarks : —
" This is a careless, but happy descrip-
tion, of one of the noblest mansions in
England ; and it will now be read with a
far deeper interest than when it was writ-
ten. Walpole saw the seat of the Byrons,
old, majestic and venerable ; but he saw
nothing of that magic beauty which Fame
sheds over the habitations of genius, and
which now mantles every turret of New-
stead Abbey. He saw it when Decay was
doing its work on the cloister, the refec-
tory, and the chapel ; and all its honours
seemed mouldering into oblivion. He
could not know that a voice was soon to
2.54 RECOLLECTIONS OP THE
go forth from those antique cloisters that
should be heard through all future ages,
and cry, ' Sleep no more' to all the house.
Whatever may be its future fate, Newstead
Abbey must henceforth be a memorable
abode. Time may shed its wild flowers
on the walls, and let the fox in upon the
court-yard and the chambers. It may
even pass into the hands of unlettered
pride or plebeian opulence — but it has
been the mansion of a mighty poet. Its
name is associated to glories that cannot
perish, and will go down to posterity in one
of the proudest pages of our annals*."
This is rather a poetical effusion than a
sober criticism. I have heard that the pur-
chaser means to remove the Abbey as rub-
bish, and to build a modern villa upon its
site. It may be as well for the Poet's fame;
* Edinburgli Review for December, 1818 — No. 61,
pages 90, 91.
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 255
for though his genius might mantle every
stone from the foundations to the pinnacles,
it would not cover the sale of it *.
About this time Lord Byron began, I
cannot say to be cool, — for cool to me he
never was, — but I thought to neglect me ;
and I began to doubt whether I had most
reason to be proud of, or to be mortified by,
my connexion and correspondence with him.
The pain arising from the mortification in
this change was little, compared to that
which I felt in the disappointment of my
hope, that his success would elevate his
character, as well as raise his fame. I saw
that he was gone ; and it made me unhappy.
With an imagination, learning, and lan-
guage to exalt him to the highest character
of a poet, his mind seemed not sufficiently
strong to raise him equally high in the not
adventitious character of a great man.
* We are glad to learn that the present proprietor of
Newstead has expended a large sum upon its repair, Avitli
a good taste worthy its liigh associations.
256 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
«
In the autumn he took a place in the
country, near Lord * * *'s, where he again
became absorbed for a few months, and
where he wrote his first dedication (a
poetical one) of Childe Harold's Pilgri-
mage,
In the beginning of the year 1813 he
seemed to be a little recovered from his
intoxication. He lived in a house in Ben-
net-street, St. James's, where I saw him
almost every day, by his own desire,
and his kindness and attentions seemed
uninterrupted. I confess I suspected that
the independence of my opinions had had
some effect upon his mind. I have the
copy of a letter by me, written to him
in the Autumn of 1812, (August 19th,)
when he was going to the country-house
he had taken, as I have just mentioned ;
and which I will insert here as another
proof of that independence : —
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 257
" You talked of going out of town in a
few days; pray remember to leave St.
Simon's works for me. I will call again,
but you may be gone— if so, I shall be glad
to hear from you. Wherever you are I
most sincerely wish you happy ; but let me,
with my old sincerity, add, that I am confi-
dent you are not at present in the road of
happiness. Do not hate me for this, for
be assured that no man, nor woman either,
more sincerely wishes you the enjoyment
of every good, than does'
Your truly obHged, &c ."
He again became satiated with praise
and pleasure, and turned his mind to com-
position. I was highly gratified, allowing
it even to be flattery, at his acknowledg-
ment of being pleased with the novels I
had written ; and I was still more flattered
when he proposed to me to write one
jointly. I thought the proposal made on a
s
258 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
transient thought ; and was rather surprised,
when I next saw him, to receive from him
two foHo sheets of paper, accompanied
with these words, " Now, do you go on."
On opening the paper I read, " Letter L
Darrell to G. Y." and found it to be the
commencement of a novel. I was charmed
to find his intention real ; but my pleasure,
which continued through the perusal, for-
sook me when I reflected on the impossibi-
lity of my adopting either the style or the
objects he had in view, as he dwelled upon
them. I told him I saw that he meant to
laugh at me, but I kept the manuscript,
though, at the time, I had no intention of
using it; however, in writing another
novel, I was tempted to build a very
different structure upon it than was origi-
nally planned, and it stands the first letter
in my novel of Sir Francis Darrell.
LIFE OF LORD BYRON, 259
LETTERS.
cc J ^ 180—.
*' — Darrell to G. Y.
[ The first part of this letter is lost.']
"****** gQ much for your present pur-
suits. I will now resume the subject of my last.
How I wish you were upon the spot ; your taste
for the ridiculous would be fully gratified ; and
if you felt inclined for more serious amusement,
there is no ' lack of argument.' Within this
last week our guests have been doubled in
number, some of them my old acquaintance. Our
host you already know — absurd as ever, but ra-
ther duller, and I should conceive troublesome to
such of his very good friends as find his house
more agreeable than its owner. I confine my-
self to observation, and do not find him at all in
the way, though Veramore and Asply are of a dif-
ferent opinion. The former, in particular, imparts
to me many pathetic complaints on the want of
opportunities (nothing else being wanting to the
success of the said Veramore,) created by the
S2
260 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
fractious and but ill-concealed jealousy of poor
Bramblebear, whose Penelope seems to have as
many suitors as her namesake, and for aught I
can see to the contrary, with as much prospect of
carrying their point. In the mean time, I look
on and laugh, or rather, I should laugh were you
present to share in it: Sackcloth and sorrow are
excellent wear for Soliloquy ; but for a laugh
there should be two, but not many more, except
at the first night of a modern tragedy.
" You are very much mistaken in the design
you impute to myself; I have none here or else-
where. I am sick of old intrigues, and too in-
dolent to engage in new ones. Besides, I am,
that is, I used to be, apt to find my heart gone