IV.] LAST MEETING WITH BYRON. 413 the fine poem of Hardyknute, an imitation of the old Scottish Ballad, with which he was so much affected, that some one who was in the same apartment asked me what I could possibly have been telling Byron by which he was so much agitated. I saw Byron, for the last time, in 1815, after I returned from France. He dined, or lunched, with me at Long's, in Bond Street. I never saw him so full of gaiety and good humour, to which the presence of Mr. Mathews, the comedian, added not a little. Poor Terry was also present. After one of the gayest parties I ever was present at, my fellow-traveller, Mr. Scott of Gala, and I set off for Scotland, and I never saw Lord Byron again. Several letters passed between us-one perhaps every half year. Like the old heroes in Homer, we exchanged gifts: I gave Byron a beautiful dagger mounted with gold, which had been the property of the redoubted Elfi Bey. But I was to play the part of Diomed in the Iliad; for Byron sent me, some time after, a large sepulchral vase of silver." It was full of dead 1. Lockhart says that on the blank leaf of his copy of Allan Ramsay's Evergreen, Sir Walter Scott has written, Hardyknute was the first poem that I ever learnt the last that I shall forget." -Life of Scott, vol. i. p. 83. 2. Iliad, vi. line 235. In a second edition of Berguer's lines to Scott (see Byron's letter to John Murray, April 9, 1815, note 1; and Trifles in Verse, etc., by Lionel Thomas Berguer, Edinburgh, 1817, p. 84), the following note is appended to stanza xxi. : "From all that I read in the newspapers, and heard in society, at "the time, I always understood that Lord Byron had presented Mr. "Scott with a silver cup, or goblet: and such, I know, has been the "very general impression. I have, however, seen this interesting gift. "It is a massive, cylindrical urn, not much unlike a sarcophagus, "which, in fact, it might be called-standing on a solid, square "pedestal, as I should guess, from four to six inches in thickness: "the urn and the pedestal being one entire piece. On removing "the lid, a very neat dark blue bag is discovered, in appearance "resembling a young lady's satchel, but not in its contents. It is "mounted on a most magnificent stand, by Bullock. On the three "presenting sides of the base, are the following inscriptions :— "(First side.) "THE BONES CONTAINED IN THIS URN men's bones, and had inscriptions on two sides of the base. One ran thus: "The bones contained in this urn were "found in certain ancient sepulchres within the long walls of "Athens, in the month of February, 1811." The other face bears the lines of Juvenal "Expende-quot libras in duce summo invenies! -Mors sola fatetur quantula sint hominum corpuscula." Juv. x. To these I have added a third inscription, in these words: "The gift of Lord Byron to Walter Scott." There was a letter with this vase, more valuable to me than the gift itself, from the kindness with which the donor expressed himself towards me. I left it naturally in the urn with the bones,— but it is now missing. As the theft was not of a nature to be practised by a mere domestic, I am compelled to suspect the inhospitality of some individual of higher station,—most gratuitously exercised certainly, since, after what I have here said, no one will probably choose to boast of possessing this literary curiosity. We had a good deal of laughing, I remember, on what "This is next the wall, and plain. "I forbear any remarks on a present so characteristic of the noble "donor. That both the giver and receiver may long ornament "their country, must be the wish of all." IV.] BYRON'S TEMPER AND CHARACTER. 415 the public might be supposed to think, or say, concerning the gloomy and ominous nature of our mutual gifts. I think I can add little more to my recollections of Byron. He was often melancholy,-almost gloomy. When I observed him in this humour, I used either to wait till it went off of its own accord, or till some natural and easy mode occurred of leading him into conversation, when the shadows almost always left his countenance, like the mist rising from a landscape. In conversation he was very animated. I met with him very frequently in society; our mutual acquaintances doing me the honour to think that he liked to meet with me. Some very agreeable parties I can recollect, -particularly one at Sir George Beaumont's, where the amiable landlord had assembled some persons distinguished for talent. Of these I need only mention the late Sir Humphry Davy, whose talents for literature were as remarkable as his empire over science. Mr. Richard Sharp and Mr. Rogers were also present. I think I also remarked in Byron's temper starts of suspicion, when he seemed to pause and consider whether there had not been a secret, and perhaps offensive, meaning in something casually said to him. In this case, I also judged it best to let his mind, like a troubled spring, work itself clear, which it did in a minute or two. I was considerably older, you will recollect, than my noble friend, and had no reason to fear his misconstruing my sentiments towards him, nor had I ever the slightest reason to doubt that they were kindly returned on his part. If I had occasion to be mortified by the display of genius which threw into the shade such pretensions as I was then supposed to possess, I might console myself that, in my own case, the materials of mental happiness had been mingled in a greater proportion. I rummage my brains in vain for what often rushes into my head unbidden,—little traits and sayings which recall his looks, manner, tone, and gestures; and I have always continued to think that a crisis of life was arrived in which a new career of fame was opened to him, and that had he been permitted to start upon it, he would have obliterated the memory of such parts of his life as friends would wish to forget. APPENDIX V. LETTERS FROM LEIGH HUNT. 1. On Byron's Ode to Napoleon, see Letters, vol. ii. p. 409, and vol. iii. p. 66. "Surrey Jail, April 2, 1814. "MY DEAR BYRON, (to fall in with your very kind and acceptable mode of addressing me),-You leave me little to do on this occasion, except to thank you for the trouble you have taken in noticing my venturous remarks. There certainly is a feeling among men of spirit in general, which leads them to prefer this desperate flash-out of a man's career to his quieter and more patient extinction ; but is not this feeling among the numerous and dangerous errors, which the world chuse to palm upon their own minds for the sake of looking bold in each others' eyes, and which, in fact, help to keep up all those evils of war and ambition, which, whenever it suits them, they nevertheless think themselves justified in resenting? The question is-Will it stand the test of truth and reason? Your Lordship has answered-no. Then what is the business of a man who aims at shewing himself superior to others, and not the common dupe of their prejudices, but to act as truth and reason require? To be sure, it is rather late in the day for Bonaparte to set up for a philosopher; but if he would do it at all, it is clear he must do it in this manner, and not, as it were, run his head impatiently against his hard fortune. The examples of Richard and Macbeth, though historical, are scarcely applicable, I think, in the present instance, for they are hardly to be considered as any thing but ruffians from first to last, and their sole object was the violent possession of a crown; whereas Bonaparte has had, or pretended to have, 'great views' for society at large; he has affected a certain great and speculative philosophy; and, perhaps, may have really juggled with his conscience by promising himself to do mighty things for us, as soon as he had demolished our principles and cut all our throats. He may, therefore, say to himself, 'My views for society have not succeeded. I am suddenly rendered powerless; but as my object was not mere reigning, as I pretend to a courage and understanding superior to that of most men, and above all, as I have undertaken, in so many words, that adversity shall not be too much for me, Í must shew myself able to bear my reverses with fortitude.' With regard to Palæologus, I think perfectly with your Lordship; but why v.] THE FALL OF NAPOLEON. 417 do I do so? Because Palæologus had an honourable cause to main. tain; and a submission to circumstances, with him, would have been a compromise with his honour; he would have given up a good principle; and this he had no right to do: virtuous example would have lost more by his patience than it gained by his desperation. Now, Bonaparte had no such cause to fight for; he was a legitimate monarch, it is true, because he was chosen by the people; but he had not acted his true part as a monarch, and could no longer be considered as fighting for his subjects; he had no right to imitate the useful desperation of patriotism; in him, it would have been mere useless bloodshed, and boyish or rather ruffianish obstinacy. Your picture, indeed, of what he might have been, it is almost too painful to contemplate; never had man such opportunities of true glory, or so wantonly threw them away. But perhaps his violent follies have been more useful to mankind in adding to their hardearned experience; it is doubtful if the French would have obtained so much rational freedom, or the world such a prospect of peace and improvement, if we all had not gone our full round of suffering, and been taught, by main force, to discern. Come, if your Lordship wrote me a long letter, and thought fit to apologize for it, I think I have had my revenge. 66 Pray, however, think no more of such apologies or of those for your not visiting me oftener. I know the thousand little things that prevent a man who is living out in the world from keeping engagements elsewhere; and I expect to have you some day or other, if I live. All that I must request of you in the mean time is not to write me letters full of kindness and candour, which make me more than ordinarily impatient to see the writer. "Ever, my dear Byron, most sincerely your's, "LEIGH HUNT. "P.S.-The morning papers have just been brought me. Do you see what Bonaparte says?" 2. See p. 227, and note 1. "Vale of Health, Hampstead, Monday, 30 Oct., 1815. "MY DEAR BYRON,-If virtue consists in bestowing happiness, you must look upon yourself, if you please, as having been a most exemplary person when you wrote me your last letter and the notes to the manuscript. I shall suppress what I think of your explanation respecting the English Bards, lest you should suppose me pertinacious in paying compliments; but the fact is, it is so rare a thing to meet with a person who seems, as the phrase is, to jump along with all one's ideas, that one is in danger of paying nothing but compliments to one's self under the guise of ardently approving another. You must know I am a very great infidel in what is usually understood by the word 'merit;' but then I am as great a believer in things to be liked and admired, whether they are flowers, or fields, or fine qualities; and I like candour and manliness above all things, save and excepting womanliness. VOL. III. |