by Lord Byron
Of somewhat the same opinion was Lady H. Leveson Gower (Letters of Harriet, Countess Granville, vol. i. pp. 41, 42):
“The charm of Mr. Ward’s conversation is exactly what Mr. Luttrell wants, a sort of abandon, and being entertaining because it is his nature and he cannot help it. I only mean Mr. Ward in his happier hour, for what I have said of him is the very reverse of what he is when vanity or humour seize upon him.”
“In the evening at Coleridge’s lecture. Conclusion of Milton. Not one of the happiest of Coleridge’s efforts. Rogers was there, and with him was Lord Byron. He was wrapped up, but I recognized his club foot, and, indeed, his countenance and general appearance.”
Footnote 4:
Benedict
No; if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him.
Much Ado about Nothing, act v. sc. 4.
Campbell also apparently read his lectures aloud at private houses. Miss Berry (Journal, vol. ii. p. 502) mentions a dinner-party on June 26, 1812, at the Princess of Wales’s, where she heard him read his “first discourse,” delivered at the Institution. Again (ibid., vol. iii. p. 6), she dined with Madame de Stael, March 9, 1814:
“Nobody but Campbell the poet, Rocca, and her own daughter. After dinner, Campbell read to us a discourse of his upon English poetry, and upon some of the great poets. There are always signs of a poet and critic of genius in all he does, often encumbered by too ornate a style.”
Campbell’s best work was done between 1798 and 1810. Within that period were published The Pleasures of Hope (1799), Gertrude of Wyoming (1809), and such other shorter poems as Hohenlinden, Ye Mariners of England, The Battle of the Baltic, and O’Connor’s Child. His Ritter Bann, a reminiscence of his sojourn abroad (1800-1), was not published till later; both it and The Last Man were published in the New Monthly Magazine, during the period of his editorship. An excellent judge of verse, he collected Specimens of the British Poets (1819), to which he added a valuable essay on poetry and short biographies. His Theodoric (1824), Pilgrim of Glencoe (1842), and Lives of Mrs. Siddons, Petrarch, and Shakespeare added nothing to his reputation.
The judgment of contemporary poets in the main agreed with Coleridge’s estimate of Campbell’s work.
“There are some of Campbell’s lyrics,” said Rogers (Table-Talk, etc., pp. 254, 255), which will never die. His Pleasures of Hope is no great favourite with me. The feeling throughout his Gertrude is very beautiful.”
Wordsworth also thought the Pleasures of Hope
“strangely over-rated; its fine words and sounding lines please the generality of readers, who never stop to ask themselves the meaning of a passage.”
Byron, who calls Campbell “a warm-hearted and honest man,” thought that his
“‘Lochiel’ and ‘Mariners’ are spirit-stirring productions; his Gertrude of Wyoming is beautiful; and some of the episodes in his Pleasures of Hope pleased me so much that I know them by heart”
(Lady Blessington’s Conversations with Lord Byron, p. 353).
George Ticknor, who met Campbell in 1815 (Life, vol. i. p. 63), says,
“He is a short, small man, and has one of the roundest and most lively faces I have seen amongst this grave people. His manners seemed as open as his countenance, and his conversation as spirited as his poetry. He could have kept me amused till morning.”
Shortly afterwards, Ticknor went to see him at Sydenham (ibid., p. 65):
“Campbell had the same good spirits and love of merriment as when I met him before, — the same desire to amuse everybody about him; but still I could see, as I partly saw then, that he labours under the burden of an extraordinary reputation, too easily acquired, and feels too constantly that it is necessary for him to make an exertion to satisfy expectation. The consequence is that, though he is always amusing, he is not always quite natural.”
Sir Walter Scott made a similar remark about the numbing effect of Campbell’s reputation upon his literary work; his deference to critics ruined his individuality. It was Scott’s admiration for Hohenlinden which induced Campbell to publish the poem. The two men, travelling in a stage-coach alone, beguiled the way by repeating poetry. At last Scott asked Campbell for something of his own. He replied that there was one thing he had never printed, full of “drums and trumpets and blunderbusses and thunder,” and that he did not know if there was any good in it. He then repeated Hohenlinden. When he had finished, Scott broke out with,
“But, do you know, that’s devilish fine! Why, it’s the finest thing you ever wrote, and it must be printed!”
Kinnaird was Byron’s “trusty and trustworthy trustee and banker, and crown and sheet anchor.” It was at his suggestion that Byron wrote the Hebrew Melodies and the Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Talking of Kinnaird to Lady Blessington (Conversations, p. 215), Byron said,
“My friend Dug is a proof that a good heart cannot compensate for an irritable temper; whenever he is named, people dwell on the last and pass over the first; and yet he really has an excellent heart, and a sound head, of which I, in common with many others of his friends, have had various proofs. He is clever, too, and well informed, and I do think would have made a figure in the world, were it not for his temper, which gives a dictatorial tone to his manner, that is offensive to the amour propre of those with whom he mixes.”
“I was a member of the Alfred. It was pleasant; a little too sober and literary, and bored with Sotheby and Sir Francis d’Ivernois; but one met Peel, and Ward, and Valentia, and many other pleasant or known people; and it was, upon the whole, a decent resource in a rainy day, in a dearth of parties, or parliament, or in an empty season.”
It was, says Mr. Wheatley (London Past and Present), known as the Half-read.
In a manuscript note, now for the first time printed as written, on the above passage from Byron’s Detached Thoughts, Sir Walter Scott writes,
“The Alfred, like all other clubs, was much haunted with boars, a tusky monster which delights to range where men most do congregate. A boar, or bore, is always remarkable for something respectable, such as wealth, character, high birth, acknowledged talent, or, in short, for something that forbids people to turn him out by the shoulders, or, in other words, to cut him dead. Much of this respectability is supplied by the mere circumstance of belonging to a certain society of clubists, within whose districts the bore obtains free-warren, and may wallow or grunt at pleasure. Old stagers in the club know and avoid the fated corner and arm-chair which he haunts; but he often rushes from his lair on the inexperienced.”
214 — to Thomas Moore
December 11, 1811.
My Dear Moore, — If you please, we will drop our former monosyllables, and adhere to the appellations sanctioned by our godfathers and godmothers. If you make it a point, I will withdraw your name; at the same time there is no occasion, as I have this day postponed your election sine die, till it shall suit your wishes to be amongst us. I do not say this from any awkwardness the erasure of your proposal would occasion to me, but simply such is the state of the case; and, indeed, the longer your name is up, the stronger will become your probability of success, and your voters more numerous. Of course you will decide — your wish shall be my law. If my zeal has already outrun discretion, pardon me, and attribute my officiousness to an excusable motive.
I wish you would go down with me to Newstead. Hodgson will be there, and a young friend, named Harness, the earliest and dearest I ever had from the third form at Harrow to this hour. I can promise you good wine, and, if you like shooting, a manor of 4000 acres, fires, books, your own free will, and my own very indifferent company. Balnea, vina, Venus.
Hodgson will plague you, I fear, with verse; — for my own part I will conclude, with Martial, nil recitabo tibi; and surely the last inducement, is not the least. Ponder on my proposition, and believe me, my dear Moore,
Yours ever,
Byron.
“Balnea, vina, Venus corrumpunt c
orpora nostra.”
The words are thus given in Grüter (Corpus Inscriptionum (1603), p. DCCCCXII. 10.
“Plus ego polliceor: nil recitabo tibi.”
215 — to Francis Hodgson
8, St. James’s Street, Dec. 12, 1811.
Why, Hodgson! I fear you have left off wine and me at the same time, — I have written and written and written, and no answer! My dear Sir Edgar, water disagrees with you — drink sack and write. Bland did not come to his appointment, being unwell, but Moore supplied all other vacancies most delectably. I have hopes of his joining us at Newstead. I am sure you would like him more and more as he developes, — at least I do.
How Miller and Bland go on, I don’t know. Cawthorne talks of being in treaty for a novel of Madame D’Arblay’s, and if he obtains it (at 1500 guineas!!) wishes me to see the MS. This I should read with pleasure, — not that I should ever dare to venture a criticism on her whose writings Dr. Johnson once revised, but for the pleasure of the thing. If my worthy publisher wanted a sound opinion, I should send the MS. to Rogers and Moore, as men most alive to true taste. I have had frequent letters from Wm. Harness, and you are silent; certes, you are not a schoolboy. However, I have the consolation of knowing that you are better employed, viz. reviewing. You don’t deserve that I should add another syllable, and I won’t.
Yours, etc.
P.S. — I only wait for your answer to fix our meeting.
216 — to R. C. Dallas
[Undated, Dec.? 1811]
Dear Sir, — I have only this scrubby paper to write on — excuse it. I am certain that I sent some more notes on Spain and Portugal, particularly one on the latter. Pray rummage, and don’t mind my politics. I believe I leave town next week. Are you better? I hope so.
Yours ever,
B.
217 — to William Harness
8, St. James’s Street, Dec. 15, 1811.
I wrote you an answer to your last, which, on reflection, pleases me as little as it probably has pleased yourself. I will not wait for your rejoinder; but proceed to tell you, that I had just then been greeted with an epistle of — — ’s, full of his petty grievances, and this at the moment when (from circumstances it is not necessary to enter upon) I was bearing up against recollections to which his imaginary sufferings are as a scratch to a cancer. These things combined, put me out of humour with him and all mankind. The latter part of my life has been a perpetual struggle against affections which embittered the earliest portion; and though I flatter myself I have in a great measure conquered them, yet there are moments (and this was one) when I am as foolish as formerly. I never said so much before, nor had I said this now, if I did not suspect myself of having been rather savage in my letter, and wish to inform you this much of the cause. You know I am not one of your dolorous gentlemen: so now let us laugh again.
Yesterday I went with Moore to Sydenham to visit Campbell. He was not visible, so we jogged homeward merrily enough. To-morrow I dine with Rogers, and am to hear Coleridge, who is a kind of rage at present. Last night I saw Kemble in Coriolanus; — he was glorious, and exerted himself wonderfully. By good luck I got an excellent place in the best part of the house, which was more than overflowing. Clare and Delawarr, who were there on the same speculation, were less fortunate. I saw them by accident, — we were not together. I wished for you, to gratify your love of Shakspeare and of fine acting to its fullest extent. Last week I saw an exhibition of a different kind in a Mr. Coates, at the Haymarket, who performed Lothario in a damned and damnable manner.
I told you the fate of B[land] and H[odgson] in my last. So much for these sentimentalists, who console themselves in their stews for the loss — the never to be recovered loss — the despair of the refined attachment of a couple of drabs! You censure my life, Harness, — when I compare myself with these men, my elders and my betters, I really begin to conceive myself a monument of prudence — a walking statue — without feeling or failing; and yet the world in general hath given me a proud pre-eminence over them in profligacy. Yet I like the men, and, God knows, ought not to condemn their aberrations. But I own I feel provoked when they dignify all this by the name of love — romantic attachments for things marketable for a dollar!
Dec. 16th. — I have just received your letter; — I feel your kindness very deeply. The foregoing part of my letter, written yesterday, will, I hope, account for the tone of the former, though it cannot excuse it. I do like to hear from you — more than like. Next to seeing you, I have no greater satisfaction. But you have other duties, and greater pleasures, and I should regret to take a moment from either. H — — was to call to-day, but I have not seen him. The circumstances you mention at the close of your letter is another proof in favour of my opinion of mankind. Such you will always find them — selfish and distrustful. I except none. The cause of this is the state of society. In the world, every one is to stir for himself — it is useless, perhaps selfish, to expect any thing from his neighbour. But I do not think we are born of this disposition; for you find friendship as a schoolboy, and love enough before twenty.
I went to see — — ; he keeps me in town, where I don’t wish to be at present. He is a good man, but totally without conduct. And now, my dearest William, I must wish you good morrow, and remain ever,
Most sincerely and affectionately yours, etc.
“On this occasion, another of the noble poet’s peculiarities was, somewhat startlingly, introduced to my notice. When we were on the point of setting out from his lodgings in St. James’s Street, it being then about midday, he said to the servant, who was shutting the door of the vis-a-vis, ‘Have you put in the pistols?’ and was answered in the affirmative. It was difficult, — more especially taking into account the circumstances under which we had just become acquainted, — to keep from smiling at this singular noonday precaution.”
“Many gentlemen have been weak enough to fancy themselves actors, but no one ever persevered in obtruding himself for so long a time on the notice of the public in spite of laughter, hissing, etc.”
On December 9, 1811, he appeared at the Haymarket as “Lothario” in Rowe’s Fair Penitent. Mathews, at Covent Garden, imitated his performance, in Bate Dudley’s At Home, as “Mr. Romeo Rantall,” appearing in the
“pink silk vest and cloak, white satin breeches and stockings, Spanish hat, with a rich high plume of ostrich feathers,”
in which Coates had played “Lothario”.
Memoirs of Charles Mathews, vol. ii. pp. 238, 239).
218 — to Robert Rushton
8, St. James’s Street, Jan. 21, 1812.
Though I have no objection to your refusal to carry letters to Mealey’s, you will take care that the letters are taken by Spero at the proper time. I have also to observe, that Susan is to be treated with civility, and not insulted by any person over whom I have the smallest controul, or, indeed, by any one whatever, while I have the power to protect her. I am truly sorry to have any subject of complaint against you; I have too good an opinion of you to think I shall have occasion to repeat it, after the care I have taken of you, and my favourable intentions in your behalf. I see no occasion for any communication whatever between you and the women, and wish you to occupy yourself in preparing for the situation in which you will be placed. If a common sense of decency cannot prevent you from conducting yourself towards them with rudeness, I should at least hope that your own interest, and regard for a master who has never treated you with unkindness, will have some weight.
Yours, etc., Byron.
P.S. — I wish you to attend to your arithmetic, to occupy yourself in surveying, measuring, and making yourself acquainted with every particular relative to the land of Newstead, and you will write to me one letter every week, that I may know how you go on.
“Pray don’t forget me, as I shall never cease thinking of you, my Dearest and only Friend, (signed) S. H. V.”
To this Byron has added this note:
“This was w
ritten on the 11th of January, 1812; on the 28th I received ample proof that the Girl had forgotten me and herself too. Heigho! B.”
The letters show, writes Moore (Life, p. 152),
“how gravely and coolly the young lord could arbitrate on such an occasion, and with what considerate leaning towards the servant whose fidelity he had proved, in preference to any new liking or fancy by which it might be suspected he was actuated toward the other.”
In a MS. book written by Mrs. Heath of Newstead (née Rebekah Beardall), it is stated that the elder Rushton had as his farm-servant Fletcher, afterwards Byron’s valet. Byron watched Fletcher and young Robert Rushton ploughing, took a fancy to both, and engaged them as his servants. Rushton accompanied Byron to Geneva, but afterwards entered the service of James Wedderburn Webster (see p. 2, 1). In 1827 he married a woman of the name of Bagnall, and with her help kept a school at Arnold, near Nottingham. Subsequently he took a farm on the Newstead estate, named Hazelford, and shortly afterwards died, leaving a widow and three children.
219 — to Robert Rushton
8, St. James’s Street, January 25, 1812.
Your refusal to carry the letter was not a subject of remonstrance: it was not a part of your business; but the language you used to the girl was (as she stated it) highly improper.
You say, that you also have something to complain of; then state it to me immediately: it would be very unfair, and very contrary to my disposition, not to hear both sides of the question.
If any thing has passed between you before or since my last visit to Newstead, do not be afraid to mention it. I am sure you would not deceive me, though she would. Whatever it is, you, shall be forgiven. I have not been without some suspicions on the subject, and am certain that, at your time of life, the blame could not attach to you. You will not consult, any one as to your answer, but write to me immediately. I shall be more ready to hear what you have to advance, as I do not remember ever to have heard a word from you before against, any human being, which convinces me you would not maliciously assert an untruth. There is not any one who can do the least injury to you, while you conduct yourself properly. I shall expect your answer immediately. Yours, etc.,