by Lord Byron
“Dear Sir, — In the report of my speech (which by the bye is given very incorrectly) in the M[orning] Herald, Day, and B[ritish] Press, they state that I mentioned Bristol, a place I never saw in my life and knew nothing of whatever, nor mentioned at all last night. Will you be good enough to send to these papers immediately, and have the mistake corrected, or I shall get into a scrape with the Bristol people?
“I am, yours very truly,
“B.”
228 — to Lord Holland
St. James’s Street, March 5, 1812.
My Lord, — May I request your Lordship to accept a copy of the thing which accompanies this note?
You have already so fully proved the truth of the first line of Pope’s couplet,
“Forgiveness to the injured doth belong,”
that I long for an opportunity to give the lie to the verse that follows. If I were not perfectly convinced that any thing I may have formerly uttered in the boyish rashness of my misplaced resentment had made as little impression as it deserved to make, I should hardly have the confidence — perhaps your Lordship may give it a stronger and more appropriate appellation — to send you a quarto of the same scribbler. But your Lordship, I am sorry to observe to-day, is troubled with the gout; if my book can produce a laugh against itself or the author, it will be of some service. If it can set you to sleep, the benefit will be yet greater; and as some facetious personage observed half a century ago, that “poetry is a mere drug,”
I offer you mine as a humble assistant to the eau medicinale. I trust you will forgive this and all my other buffooneries, and believe me to be, with great respect,
Your Lordship’s obliged and sincere servant,
Byron.
“To Augusta, my dearest sister, and my best friend, who has ever loved me much better than I deserved, this volume is presented by her father’s son, and most affectionate brother, B.”
The effect which the poem instantly produced is best expressed in Byron’s own memorandum:
“I awoke one morning and found myself famous.”
He was only just twenty-three years old.
“The subject,” says Elizabeth, Duchess of Devonshire (Two Duchesses, pp. 375, 376), “of conversation, of curiosity, of enthusiasm almost, one might say, of the moment is not Spain or Portugal, Warriors or Patriots, but Lord Byron!” “He returned,” she continues, “sorry for the severity of some of his lines (in the English Bards), and with a new poem, Childe Harold, which he published. This poem is on every table, and himself courted, visited, flattered, and praised whenever he appears. He has a pale, sickly, but handsome countenance, a bad figure, and, in short, he is really the only topic almost of every conversation — the men jealous of him, the women of each other.”
“Lord Byron,” writes Lady Harriet Leveson Gower to the Duke of Devonshire, May 10, 1812 (Letters of Harriet, Countess Granville, vol. i. p. 34), “is still upon a pedestal, and Caroline William doing homage. I have made acquaintance with him. He is agreeable, but I feel no wish for any further intimacy. His countenance is fine when it is in repose; but the moment it is in play, suspicious, malignant, and consequently repulsive. His manner is either remarkably gracious and conciliatory, with a tinge of affectation, or irritable and impetuous, and then, I am afraid, perfectly natural.”
Rogers (Recollections of the Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers, pp. 232, 233) says,
“After Byron had become the rage, I was frequently amused at the manoeuvres of certain noble ladies to get acquainted with him by means of me; for instance, I would receive a note from Lady — — , requesting the pleasure of my company on a particular evening, with a postscript, ‘Pray, could you not contrive to bring Lord Byron with you?’ Once, at a great party given by Lady Jersey, Mrs. Sheridan ran up to me and said, ‘Do, as a favour, try if you can place Lord Byron beside me at supper!’“
“Forgiveness to the injured does belong,
But they ne’er pardon, who have done the wrong.”
Dryden’s Conquest of Grenada, part ii. act i. sc. 2.
“A wife’s a drug now; mere tar-water, with every virtue under heaven, but nobody takes it.”
CHAPTER VI — MARCH, 1812-MAY, 1813
THE IDOL OF SOCIETY — THE DRURY LANE ADDRESS — SECOND SPEECH IN PARLIAMENT
229 — to Thomas Moore
With regard to the passage on Mr. Way’s loss, no unfair play was hinted at, as may be seen by referring to the book; and it is expressly added that the managers were ignorant of that transaction. As to the prevalence of play at the Argyle, it cannot be denied that there were billiards and dice; — Lord B. has been a witness to the use of both at the Argyle Rooms. These, it is presumed, come under the denomination of play. If play be allowed, the President of the Institution can hardly complain of being termed the “Arbiter of Play,” — or what becomes of his authority?
Lord B. has no personal animosity to Colonel Greville. A public institution, to which he himself was a subscriber, he considered himself to have a right to notice publickly. Of that institution Colonel Greville was the avowed director; — it is too late to enter into the discussion of its merits or demerits.
Lord B. must leave the discussion of the reparation, for the real or supposed injury, to Colonel G.’s friend and Mr. Moore, the friend of Lord B. — begging them to recollect that, while they consider Colonel G.’s honour, Lord B. must also maintain his own. If the business can be settled amicably, Lord B. will do as much as can and ought to be done by a man of honour towards conciliation; — if not, he must satisfy Colonel G. in the manner most conducive to his further wishes.
“Or hail at once the patron and the pile
Of vice and folly, Greville and Argyle,” etc.
In a note he had also referred to “Billy” Way’s loss of several thousand pounds in the Rooms. On his return from abroad, Colonel Greville demanded satisfaction through his friend Gould Francis Leckie. Byron referred Leckie to Moore, and sent Moore the above paper for his guidance. The affair was amicably settled.
In his Detached Thoughts occurs the following passage: —
“I have been called in as mediator, or second, at least twenty times, in violent quarrels, and have always contrived to settle the business without compromising the honour of the parties, or leading them to mortal consequences, and this, too, sometimes in very difficult and delicate circumstances, and having to deal with very hot and haughty spirits, — Irishmen, gamesters, guardsmen, captains, and cornets of horse, and the like. This was, of course, in my youth, when I lived in hot-headed company. I have had to carry challenges from gentlemen to noblemen, from captains to captains, from lawyers to counsellors, and once from a clergyman to an officer in the Life Guards; but I found the latter by far the most difficult:
‘to compose
The bloody duel without blows,’
the business being about a woman: I must add, too, that I never saw a woman behave so ill, like a cold-blooded, heartless b — — as she was, — but very handsome for all that. A certain Susan C — — was she called. I never saw her but once; and that was to induce her but to say two words (which in no degree compromised herself), and which would have had the effect of saving a priest or a lieutenant of cavalry. She would not say them, and neither Nepean nor myself (the son of Sir Evan Nepean, and a friend to one of the parties) could prevail upon her to say them, though both of us used to deal in some sort with womankind. At last I managed to quiet the combatants without her talisman, and, I believe, to her great disappointment: she was the damnedest b — — that I ever saw, and I have seen a great many. Though my clergyman was sure to lose either his life or his living, he was as warlike as the Bishop of Beauvais, and would hardly be pacified; but then he was in love, and that is a martial passion.”
One challenge from a gentleman to a nobleman was that of Scrope Davies to Lord Foley, in 1813; but Byron succeeded in arranging the matter. That from a lawyer to a counsellor was in 1815, from John Hanson to Serj
eant Best, afterwards Lord Wynford, and arose out of the marriage of Miss Hanson to Lord Portsmouth; this quarrel was also settled by Byron. The case of the clergyman was that of the Rev. Robert Bland, whose mistress, during his absence in Holland, left him for an officer in the Guards (see Letters, vol. i. p. 197, end of note [
“When in London,” writes Gronow (Reminiscences, vol. i. p. 152), “Byron used to go to Manton’s shooting-gallery, in Davies Street, to try his hand, as he said, at a wafer. Wedderburn Webster was present when the poet, intensely delighted with his own skill, boasted to Joe Manton that he considered himself the best shot in London. ‘No, my lord,’ replied Manton, ‘not the best; but your shooting to-day was respectable.’ Whereupon Byron waxed wroth, and left the shop in a violent passion.”
230 — to William Bankes
My dear Bankes, — My eagerness to come to an explanation has, I trust, convinced you that whatever my unlucky manner might inadvertently be, the change was as unintentional as (if intended) it would have been ungrateful. I really was not aware that, while we were together, I had evinced such caprices; that we were not so much in each other’s company as I could have wished, I well know, but I think so acute an observer as yourself must have perceived enough to explain this, without supposing any slight to one in whose society I have pride and pleasure. Recollect that I do not allude here to “extended” or “extending” acquaintances, but to circumstances you will understand, I think, on a little reflection.
And now, my dear Bankes, do not distress me by supposing that I can think of you, or you of me, otherwise than I trust we have long thought. You told me not long ago that my temper was improved, and I should be sorry that opinion should be revoked. Believe me, your friendship is of more account to me than all those absurd vanities in which, I fear, you conceive me to take too much interest. I have never disputed your superiority, or doubted (seriously) your good will, and no one shall ever “make mischief between us” without the sincere regret on the part of your ever affectionate, etc.
P.S. — I shall see you, I hope, at Lady Jersey’s.
Hobhouse goes also.
Lady Jersey for many years reigned supreme, by her beauty and wit, in London society,
“the veriest tyrant,” said Byron, “that ever governed Fashion’s fools, and compelled them to shake their caps and bells as she willed it.”
At Almack’s, where, according to Gronow (Reminiscences, vol. i. p. 32), she introduced the quadrille after Waterloo, she was a despot. Almack’s, the very clever and personal picture of fashionable life, published in 1826, is dedicated
“To that most Distinguished and Despotic Conclave, composed of their High Mightinesses the Ladies Patronesses of the Balls at Almack’s, the Rulers of Fashion, the Arbiters of Taste, the Leaders of Ton, and the Makers of Manners, whose Sovereign sway over ‘the world’ of London has long been established on the firmest basis, whose Decrees are Laws, and from whose judgment there is no appeal.”
Over this “Willis Coalition Cabinet” Lady Jersey, as “Lady Hauton,” is described as reigning supreme.
“She knew more than any person I ever met with, and both everything and everybody; she could quiz and she could flatter.”
“Treat people like fools,” she is supposed to say, “and they will worship you; stoop to make up to them, and they will directly tread you underfoot.”
Ticknor (Life, vol. i. p. 269) speaks of her as a “beautiful creature, with a great deal of talent, taste, and elegant knowledge.” He was at Almack’s, in 1819, and standing close to Lady Jersey, then at the height of beauty and brilliant talent, a leader in society, and with decided political opinions, when she refused the Duke of Wellington admittance. The lady patronesses had made a rule to admit no one after eleven o’clock. When the rule first came into operation, Ticknor heard one of the attendants announce that the Duke of Wellington was at the door.
“What o’clock is it?” Lady Jersey asked. “Seven minutes after eleven, your ladyship.” She paused a moment, and then said, with emphasis and distinctness, Give my compliments, — give Lady Jersey’s compliments to the Duke of Wellington, and say that she is very glad that the first enforcement of the rule of exclusion is such that hereafter no one can complain of its application. He cannot be admitted.”
(ibid., vol. i. pp. 296, 297).
Politically, Lady Jersey was a power. Such an entry as the following sounds strange to modern readers: Dining at Lord Holland’s, in 1835, in company with Lord Melbourne, Lord Grey, and other prominent politicians, Ticknor notes that
“public business was much talked about — the corporation bill, the motion for admitting Dissenters to the universities, etc., etc.; and as to the last, when the question arose whether it would be debated on Tuesday night, it was admitted to be doubtful whether Lady Jersey would not succeed in getting it postponed, as she has a grand dinner that evening.”
(Life, vol. i. pp. 409, 410).
Lady Jersey, whose mother-in-law, née Frances Twyden, had been a bitter opponent of the Princess of Wales, provoked the wrath of the Regent by espousing the cause of his wife. The Prince was determined to break off this friendship with his wife’s champion, and sent a letter to her by the hand of Colonel Willis, announcing his determination. Some time later they met at a great party given by Henry Hope in Cavendish Square. Lady Jersey was walking with Rogers in the gallery, when they met the Prince, who
“stopped for a moment, and then, drawing himself up, marched past her with a look of the utmost disdain. Lady Jersey returned the look to the full; and, as soon as the Prince was gone, said to me, with a smile, ‘Didn’t I do it well?’“
(Table Talk of Samuel Rogers, pp. 267, 268).
From this same change of feeling arose the incident which Byron celebrated in his Condolatory Address “On the Occasion of the Prince Regent Returning her Picture to Mrs. Mee.” The lines were enclosed with a letter which is printed at the date May 29, 1814. “Pegasus is, perhaps, the only horse of whose paces,” said Byron (Conversations with Lady Blessington, p. 51), “Lord [Jersey] could not be a judge.” Of Lady Jersey he says (ibid., p. 50),
“Of all that coterie, Madame [de Stael], after Lady [Jersey], was the best; at least I thought so, for these two ladies were the only ones who ventured to protect me when all London was crying out against me on the separation, and they behaved courageously and kindly … Poor dear Lady [Jersey]! Does she still retain her beautiful cream-coloured complexion and raven hair? I used to long to tell her that she spoiled her looks by her excessive animation; for eyes, tongue, head, and arms were all in movement at once, and were only relieved from their active service by want of respiration,” etc., etc.
231 — to Thomas Moore
March 25, 1812.
Know all men by these presents, that you, Thomas Moore, stand indicted — no — invited, by special and particular solicitation, to Lady Caroline Lamb’s tomorrow evening, at half-past nine o’clock, where you will meet with a civil reception and decent entertainment. Pray, come — I was so examined after you this morning, that I entreat you to answer in person.
Believe me, etc.
Her manuscript commonplace-book is in the possession of the Hon. G. Ponsonby. A few pages are taken up with a printed copy of the Essay on the Progressive Improvement of Mankind, with which her husband won the declamation prize at Trinity, Cambridge, in 1798. The rest of the volume consists of some 200 pages filled with prose, and verse, and sketches. It begins with a list of her nicknames — ”Sprite,” “Young Savage,” “Ariel,” “Squirrel,” etc. Then follow the secret language of an imaginary order; her first verses, written at the age of thirteen; scraps of poetry, original and extracted, in French, Italian, and English; a long fragment of a wild romantic story of a girl’s seduction by an infidel nobleman. A clever sketch in water-colour of William Lamb and of herself, after their marriage, is followed by verses on the birth of her son, “little “Augustus,” August 23, 1807. The last stanza of a poem, which
has nothing to commend it except the feelings of the wife and mother which it expresses, runs thus:
“His little eyes like William’s shine;
How great is then my joy,
For, while I call this darling mine,
I see ‘tis William’s boy!”
The most ambitious effort in the volume is a poem, illustrated with pictures in water colours, such as L’Amour se cache sous le voile d’Amitié, or l’Innocence le recoit dans ses bras; a third, in the style of Blake, bears the inscription le Désespoir met fin à ses jours. The poem opens with the following lines:
“Winged with Hope and hushed with Joy,
See yon wanton, blue-eyed Boy, —
Arch his smile, and keen his dart, —
Aim at Laura’s youthful heart!
How could he his wiles disguise?
How deceive such watchful eyes?
How so pure a breast inspire,
Set so young a Mind on fire?
‘Twas because to raise the flame
Love bethought of friendship’s name.
Under this false guise he told her
That he lived but to behold her.
How could she his fault discover