The Works Of Lord Byron, Letters and Journals, Vol. 1

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Dallas's sister, Henrietta Charlotte, married George Anson Byron, the
son of Admiral the Hon. John Byron, and was therefore Byron's aunt by
marriage. On the score of this connection, Dallas introduced himself to
Byron by complimenting him, in a letter dated January 6, 1808, on his
_Hours of Idleness_. A well-meaning, self-satisfied, dull, industrious
man, he gave Byron excellent moral advice, to which the latter responded
as the _fanfaron de ses vices_, evidently with great amusement to
himself. _English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers_ was brought out under
Dallas's auspices, as well as _Childe Harold_ and _The Corsair_, the
profits of which Byron made over to him. Dallas distrusted his own
literary judgment in the matter of Byron's verse, and consulted Walter
Wright, the author of Horae Ioniae, about the prospects of 'Childe
Harold'.

"I have told him," said Wright, "that I have no doubt this will
succeed. Lord Byron had offered him before some translations from
Horace, which I told him would never sell, and he did not take them"

('Diary of H. Crabb Robinson', vol. i. pp. 29, 30).

The connection between Dallas and Byron practically ended in 1814. The
publication of Dallas's 'Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron from
the Year 1808 to the end of 1814' was stopped by a decree obtained by
Byron's executors, in the Court of Chancery, August 23, 1824. But the
book was published by the writer's son, the Rev. A. R. C. Dallas.]

[Footnote 2: Byron refers to the following passage in Dallas's letter of
January 6, 1808:

"A spirit that brings to my mind another noble author, who was not
only a fine poet, orator, and historian, but one of the closest
reasoners we have on the truth of that religion, of which forgiveness
is a prominent principle: the great and the good Lord Lyttelton, whose
fame will never die. His son, to whom he had transmitted genius but
not virtue, sparkled for a moment, and went out like a falling star,
and with him the title became extinct. He was the victim of inordinate
passions, and he will be heard of in this world only by those who read
the English Peerage"

('Correspondence of Lord Byron', p. 20, the suppressed edition).

Dallas was, of course, aware that Byron's predecessor in the title,
William, fifth Lord Byron, was known as the "wicked Lord Byron." George,
first Lord Lyttelton (1709-1773), to whom Pope refers ('Imitations of
Horace', bk. i. Ep. i. 1. 30) as

"Still true to virtue, and as warm as true,"

was a voluminous writer in prose and verse, but owed his political
importance to his family connection with Chatham, Temple, and George
Grenville. Horace Walpole calls him a "wise moppet" ('Letters', vol. ii.
p. 28, ed. Cunningham), and repeatedly sneers at his dulness. His son
Thomas, second Lord Lyttelton (1744-1779), the "wicked Lord Lyttelton,"
appears in W. Combe's 'Diaboliad' as the

"Peer of words,
Well known,--and honour'd in the House of Lords,--
Whose Eloquence all Parallel defies!"

who claims the throne of Hell as the worst of living men. His 'Poems by
a Young Nobleman lately deceased' (published in 1780, after his death)
may have helped Dallas in his allusion. He was the hero and the victim
of the famous ghost story which Dr. Johnson was "willing to believe."]

[Footnote 3: 'The Critical Review' (3rd series, vol. xii. pp. 47-53)
specially praises lines "On Leaving Newstead Abbey" and "Childish
Recollections."]

[Footnote 4: In 'Monthly Literary Recreations' (July, 1807, pp. 67-71),
"Childish Recollections" and "The Tear" are particularly commended.

"As friends to the cause of literature, we have thought proper not to
disguise our opinion of his powers, that we might alter his
determination, and lead him once more to the Castalian fount."]

[Footnote 5: 'The Anti-Jacobin Review' (December, 1807, pp. 407, 408)
says that the poems

"exhibit strong proofs of genius, accompanied by a lively but
chastened imagination, a classical taste, and a benevolent heart."]

[Footnote 6: _The Eclectic Review_ (vol. iii. part ii. pp. 989-993)
begins its review thus:

"The notice we take of this publication regards the author rather than
the book; the book is a collection of juvenile pieces, some of very
moderate merit, and others of very questionable morality; but the
author is a _nobleman_!"]

[Footnote 7: Characters in the novel called _Percival_.]

88.--To Robert Charles Dallas.

Dorant's, January 21, 1808.

Sir,--Whenever leisure and inclination permit me the pleasure of a
visit, I shall feel truly gratified in a personal acquaintance with
one whose mind has been long known to me in his writings.

You are so far correct in your conjecture, that I am a member of the
University of Cambridge, where I shall take my degree of A.M. this
term; but were reasoning, eloquence, or virtue, the objects of my
search, Granta is not their metropolis, nor is the place of her
situation an "El Dorado," far less an Utopia. The intellects of her
children are as stagnant as her Cam, and their pursuits limited to the
church--not of Christ, but of the nearest benefice.

As to my reading, I believe I may aver, without hyperbole, it has been
tolerably extensive in the historical department; so that few nations
exist, or have existed, with whose records I am not in some degree
acquainted, from Herodotus down to Gibbon. Of the classics, I know
about as much as most school-boys after a discipline of thirteen
years; of the law of the land as much as enables me to keep "within
the statute"--to use the poacher's vocabulary. I did study the "Spirit
of Laws" [1] and the Law of Nations; but when I saw the latter
violated every month, I gave up my attempts at so useless an
accomplishment:--of geography, I have seen more land on maps than I
should wish to traverse on foot;--of mathematics, enough to give me
the headach without clearing the part affected;--of philosophy,
astronomy, and metaphysics, more than I can comprehend; and of common
sense so little, that I mean to leave a Byronian prize at each of our
"Almae Matres" for the first discovery,--though I rather fear that of
the longitude will precede it.

I once thought myself a philosopher, and talked nonsense with great
decorum: I defied pain, and preached up equanimity. For some time this
did very well, for no one was in _pain_ for me but my friends, and
none lost their patience but my hearers. At last, a fall from my horse
convinced me bodily suffering was an evil; and the worst of an
argument overset my maxims and my temper at the same moment: so I
quitted Zeno for Aristippus, and conceive that pleasure constitutes
the [Greek (transliterated): to kalon].

In morality, I prefer Confucius to the Ten Commandments, and Socrates
to St. Paul (though the two latter agree in their opinion of
marriage). In religion, I favour the Catholic emancipation, but do not
acknowledge the Pope; and I have refused to take the sacrament,
because I do not think eating bread or drinking wine from the hand of
an earthly vicar will make me an inheritor of heaven. I hold virtue,
in general, or the virtues severally, to be only in the disposition,
each a _feeling_, not a principle. I believe truth the prime attribute
of the Deity, and death an eternal sleep, at least of the body. You
have here a brief compendium of the sentiments of the _wicked_ George,
Lord Byron; and, till I get a new suit, you will perceive I am badly
cloathed.

I remain yours, etc.,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: In Byron's "List of historical writers whose works I have
perused in different languages" ('Life', pp. 46, 47), occurs the name of
Montesquieu. It is to his 'Esprit des Lois' that Byron refers.]

89.--To John Hanson.

Dorant's, January 25th, 1808.

Sir,--The picture I have drawn of my finances is unfortunately a true
one, and I find the colours may be heightened but not improved by
time.--I have inclosed the receipt, and return my thanks for the loan,
which shall be repaid the first opportunity. In the concluding part of
my last I gave my reasons for not troubling you with my society at
present, but when I can either communicate or receive pleasure, I
shall not be long absent.

Yrs., etc.,

BYRON.

P.S.--I have received a letter from Whitehead, of course you know the
contents, and must act as you think proper.

90.--To John Hanson.

Dorant's, January 25th, 1808.

Dear Sir,--Some time ago I gave Mitchell the sadler [_sic_] a letter
for you, requesting his bill might be paid from the Balance of the
Quarter you obliged me by advancing. If he has received this you will
further oblige me by paying what remains, I believe somewhere about
five pounds, if so much.

You will confer a favour upon me by the loan of twenty. I will
endeavour to repay it next week, as I have immediate occasion for that
sum, and I should not require it of you could I obtain it elsewhere.

I am now in my one and twentieth year, and cannot command as many
pounds. To Cambridge I cannot go without paying my bills, and at
present I could as soon compass the National Debt; in London I must
not remain, nor shall I, when I can procure a trifle to take me out of
it. Home I have none; and if there was a possibility of getting out of
the Country, I would gladly avail myself of it. But even that is
denied me, my Debts amount to three thousand, three hundred to Jews,
eight hundred to Mrs. B. of Nottingham, to coachmaker and other
tradesmen a thousand more, and these must be much increased, before
they are lessened.

Such is the prospect before me, which is by no means brightened by
ill-health. I would have called on you, but I have neither spirits to
enliven myself or others, or inclination to bring a gloomy face to
spoil a group of happy ones. I remain,

Your obliged and obedt. sert.,

BYRON.

P.S.--Your answer to the former part will oblige, as I shall be
reduced to a most unpleasant dilemma if it does not arrive.

91.--To James De Bathe. [1]

Dorant's Hotel, February 2d, 1808.

My Dear De Bathe,--Last Night I saw your Father and Brother, the
former I have not the pleasure of knowing, but the latter informed me
_you_ came to Town on _Saturday_ and returned _yesterday_.

I have received a pressing Invitation from Henry Drury to pay him a
visit; in his Letter he mentions a very old _Friend_ of yours, who
told him he would join my party, if I could inform him on what day I
meant to go over. This Friend you will readily conclude to be a Lord
_B_.; but not the one who now addresses you. Shall I bring him to you?
and insure a welcome for myself which perhaps might not otherwise be
the case. This will not be for a Fortnight to come. I am waiting for
Long, who is now at Chatham, when he arrives we shall probably drive
down and dine with Drury.

I confess Harrow has lost most of its charms for me. I do not know if
Delawarr is still there; but, with the exception of yourself and the
Earl, I shall find myself among Strangers. Long has a Brother at
Butler's, and all his predilections remain in full force; mine are
weakened, if not destroyed, and though I can safely say, I never knew
a Friend out of Harrow, I question whether I have one left in it. You
leave Harrow in July; may I ask what is your future Destination?

In January _1809_ I shall be twenty one & in the Spring of the same
year proceed abroad, not on the usual Tour, but a route of a more
extensive Description. What say you? are you disposed for a view of
the Peloponnesus and a voyage through the Archipelago? I am merely in
jest with regard to you, but very serious with regard to my own
Intention which is fixed on the _Pilgrimage_, unless some political
view or accident induce me to postpone it. Adieu! if you have Leisure,
I shall be as happy to hear from you, as I would have been to have
_seen_ you. Believe me,

Yours very truly,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Sir James Wynne De Bathe (1792-1828) succeeded his father
as second baronet, February 22, 1808. "Clare, Dorset, Charles Gordon, De
Bathe, Claridge, and John Wingfield, were my juniors and favourites,
whom I spoilt by indulgence" ('Life', p. 21). De Bathe's name does not
appear in the Harrow School lists. A Captain De Bathe interested himself
in the case of Medora Leigh in 1843 (see Charles Mackay's 'Medora
Leigh', pp. 92, 93, and elsewhere in the volume).]

92.--To William Harness. [1]

Dorant's Hotel, Albemarle Street, Feb. II, 1808.

My Dear Harness,--As I had no opportunity of returning my verbal
thanks, I trust you will accept my written acknowledgments for the
compliment you were pleased to pay some production of my unlucky muse
last November,--I am induced to do this not less from the pleasure I
feel in the praise of an old schoolfellow, than from justice to you,
for I had heard the story with some slight variations. Indeed, when we
met this morning, Wingfield [2] had not undeceived me; but he will
tell you that I displayed no resentment in mentioning what I had
heard, though I was not sorry to discover the truth. Perhaps you
hardly recollect, some years ago, a short, though, for the time, a
warm friendship between us. Why it was not of longer duration I know
not. I have still a gift of yours in my possession, that must always
prevent me from forgetting it. I also remember being favoured with the
perusal of many of your compositions, and several other circumstances
very pleasant in their day, which I will not force upon your memory,
but entreat you to believe me, with much regret at their short
continuance, and a hope they are not irrevocable,

Yours very sincerely, etc.,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: William Harness (1790-1869), son of Dr. J. Harness,
Commissioner of the Transport Board, was educated at Harrow and Christ's
College, Cambridge. Ordained in 1812, he was, from 1823 to 1826, Curate
at Hampstead.

"I could quiz you heartily," writes Mrs. Franklin to Miss Mitford
(September 6, 1824), "for having told me in three successive letters
of Mr. Harness's chapel at Hampstead. I understand he now lives a very
retired life"

('The Friendships of Mary Russell Mitford', vol. i. p. 61). From 1826 to
1844 he was Incumbent of Regent Square Chapel; Minister of Brompton
Chapel (1844-47); Perpetual Curate (1849-69) of All Saints',
Knightsbridge, which he built from subscriptions raised by himself. He
is described by Crabb Robinson ('Diary', vol. iii. p. 212) as

"a clergyman with Oxford propensities, and a worshipper of the heathen
Muses as well as of the Christian Graces;"

and again (iii. 326), as

"a man of taste, of High Church principles and liberal in spirit."

Miss Mitford ('The Friendships of Mary Russell Mitford', vol. ii. p.
289) writes that

"he has neither Catholic nor Puseyite tendencies,--only it is a large
and liberal mind like Bishop Stanley's, believing good men and good
Christians may exist among Papists, and will be as safe there as if
they were Protestants."

Again (vol. ii. p. 295) she says of him:

"Besides his varied accomplishments, and his admirable goodness and
kindness, he has all sorts of amusing peculiarities. With a temper
never known to fail, an indulgence the largest, a tenderness as of a
woman, he has the habit of talking like a cynic! and with more
learning, ancient and modern, and a wider grasp of literature than
almost any one I know, professes to read nothing and care for nothing
but 'Shakespeare and the Bible.' He is the finest reader of both that
I ever heard. His preaching, which has been so much admired, is too
rapid, but his reading the prayers is perfection. The best parish
priest in London, and the truest Christian."

Miss Mitford's praise may be exaggerated; but she had known Harness for
a lifetime.

Harness edited 'Shakespeare' (1825, 8 vols.), as well as 'Massinger'
(1830) and 'Ford' (1831); wrote for the 'Quarterly' and 'Blackwood'; and
published a number of sermons, including 'The Wrath of Cain', 'A Boyle
Lecture' (1822). He wrote 'The Life of Mary Russell Mitford' (1870), in
collaboration with the Rev. A. G. L'Estrange, whose 'Life of the Rev. W.
Harness' is the chief authority for his career.

His friendship with Byron began at Harrow ('Life', pp. 23, 24), where
Byron, who was older than Harness, took pity upon his lameness and
weakness, and protected him from the bullies of the school. At a later
period they became estranged, as is shown by the following letter from
Byron to Harness ('Life', pp. 24, 25):--

"We both seem perfectly to recollect, with a mixture of pleasure and
regret, the hours we once passed together, and I assure you, most
sincerely, they are numbered among the happiest of my brief chronicle
of enjoyment. I am now 'getting into years', that is to say, I was
'twenty' a month ago, and another year will send me into the world to
run my career of folly with the rest. I was then just fourteen,--you
were almost the first of my Harrow friends, certainly the 'first' in
my esteem, if not in date; but an absence from Harrow for some time,
shortly after, and new connections on your side, and the difference in
our conduct (an advantage decidedly in your favour) from that
turbulent and riotous disposition of mine, which impelled me into
every species of mischief,--all these circumstances combined to
destroy an intimacy, which affection urged me to continue, and memory
compels me to regret. But there is not a circumstance attending that
period, hardly a sentence we exchanged, which is not impressed on my
mind at this moment. I need not say more,--this assurance alone must
convince you, had I considered them as trivial, they would have been
less indelible. How well I recollect the perusal of your 'first
flights'! There is another circumstance you do not know;--the 'first
lines' I ever attempted at Harrow were addressed to 'you'. You were to
have seen them; but Sinclair had the copy in his possession when we
went home;--and, on our return, we were 'strangers'. They were
destroyed, and certainly no great loss; but you will perceive from
this circumstance my opinions at an age when we cannot be hypocrites.

I have dwelt longer on this theme than I intended, and I shall now
conclude with what I ought to have begun. We were once friends,--nay,
we have always been so, for our separation was the effect of chance,
not of dissension. I do not know how far our destinations in life may
throw us together, but if opportunity and inclination allow you to
waste a thought on such a hare-brained being as myself, you will find
me at least sincere, and not so bigoted to my faults as to involve
others in the consequences. Will you sometimes write to me? I do not
ask it often; and, if we meet, let us be what we 'should' be, and what
we 'were'."

The following is Harness's own account of the circumstances in which
Letter 92 was written:--

"A coolness afterwards arose, which Byron alludes to in the first of
the accompanying letters, and we never spoke during the last year of
his remaining at school, nor till after the publication of his 'Hours
of Idleness'. Lord Byron was then at Cambridge; I, in one of the upper
forms, at Harrow. In an English theme I happened to quote from the
volume, and mention it with praise. It was reported to Byron that I
had, on the contrary, spoken slightingly of his work and of himself,
for the purpose of conciliating the favour of Dr. Butler, the master,
who had been severely satirised in one of the poems. Wingfield, who
was afterwards Lord Powerscourt, a mutual friend of Byron and myself,
disabused him of the error into which he had been led, and this was
the occasion of the first letter of the collection. Our intimacy was
renewed, and continued from that time till his going abroad. Whatever
faults Lord Byron might have had towards others, to myself he was
always uniformly affectionate. I have many slights and neglects
towards him to reproach myself with; but I cannot call to mind a
single instance of caprice or unkindness, in the whole course of our
friendship, to allege against him."

In December, 1811, Harness paid Byron a visit at Newstead, the only
other guest being Francis Hodgson, who, like Harness, was not then
ordained. He thus describes the visit ('Life of the Rev. Francis
Hodgson', vol. i. pp. 219-221):--

"When Byron returned, with the MS. of the first two cantos of 'Childe
Harold' in his portmanteau, I paid him a visit at Newstead. It was
winter--dark, dreary weather--the snow upon the ground; and a
straggling, gloomy, depressive, partially inhabited place the Abbey
was. Those rooms, however, which had been fitted up for residence were
so comfortably appointed, glowing with crimson hangings, and cheerful
with capacious fires, that one soon lost the melancholy feeling of
being domiciled in the wing of an extensive ruin. Many tales are
related or fabled of the orgies which, in the poet's early youth, had
made clamorous these ancient halls of the Byrons. I can only say that
nothing in the shape of riot or excess occurred when I was there. The
only other visitor was Dr. Hodgson, the translator of 'Juvenal', and
nothing could be more quiet and regular than the course of our days.
Byron was retouching, as the sheets passed through the press, the
stanzas of 'Childe Harold'. Hodgson was at work in getting out the
ensuing number of the 'Monthly Review', of which he was principal
editor. I was reading for my degree. When we met, our general talk was
of poets and poetry--of who could or who could not write; but it
occasionally rose into very serious discussions on religion. Byron,
from his early education in Scotland, had been taught to identify the
principles of Christianity with the extreme dogmas of Calvinism. His
mind had thus imbibed a most miserable prejudice, which appeared to be
the only obstacle to his hearty acceptance of the Gospel. Of this
error we were most anxious to disabuse him. The chief weight of the
argument rested with Hodgson, who was older, a good deal, than myself.
I cannot even now--at a distance of more than fifty years--recall
those conversations without a deep feeling of admiration for the
judicious zeal and affectionate earnestness (often speaking with tears
in his eyes) which Dr. Hodgson evinced in his advocacy of the truth.
The only difference, except perhaps in the subjects talked about,
between our life at Newstead Abbey and that of the great families
around us, was the hours we kept. It was, as I have said, winter, and
the days were cold; and, as nothing tempted us to rise early, we got
up late. This flung the routine of the day rather backward, and we did
not go early to bed. My visit to Newstead lasted about three weeks,
when I returned to Cambridge to take my degree."

To Harness Byron intended to dedicate 'Childe Harold', but feared to do
so, "lest it should injure him in his profession."]

[Footnote 2: Three Wingfields, sons of Lord Powerscourt, entered Harrow
in February, 1801. The Hon. Richard Wingfield succeeded his father as
fifth Viscount Powerscourt in 1809, and died in 1823. Edward became a
clergyman and died of cholera in 1825; John, Byron's friend, the
"Alonzo" of "Childish Recollections" entered the Coldstream Guards, and
died of fever at Coimbra, May 14, 1811.

"Of all human beings, I was perhaps at one time most attached to poor
Wingfield, who died at Coimbra, 1811, before I returned to England"

('Life', p. 21). To his memory Byron wrote the lines in 'Childe Harold',
Canto I. stanza xci.]

93.--To J. Ridge.

[Mr. Ridge, Newark.]

Dorant's Hotel, February 21st, 1808.

Mr. Ridge,--Something has occurred which will make considerable
alteration in my new volume. You must _go back_ and _cut out_ the
whole _poem_ of 'Childish Recollections'. [1] Of course you will be
surprized at this, and perhaps displeased, but it must be _done_. I
cannot help its detaining you a _month_ longer, but there will be
enough in the volume without it, and as I am now reconciled to Dr.
Butler I cannot allow my satire to appear against him, nor can I alter
that part relating to him without spoiling the whole. You will
therefore omit the whole poem. Send me an _immediate_ answer to this
letter but _obey_ the directions. It is better that my reputation
should suffer as a poet by the omission than as a man of honour by the
insertion.

Etc., etc.,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: For "Childish Recollections," see 'Poems', vol.i. p.101. A
previous letter, written to Ridge from Dorant's Hotel, January 9, 1808,
illustrates the rapidity with which Byron's moods changed. In this case,
the lines on "Euryalus" (Lord Delawarr: see page 41 [Letter 13],
[Foot]note 1 [5]) were to be omitted:--

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