"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, &c.
"P.S. I shall see you, I hope, at Lady Jersey's. Hobhouse goes
also."
* * * * *
In the month of April he was again tempted to try his success in the
House of Lords; and, on the motion of Lord Donoughmore for taking into
consideration the claims of the Irish catholics, delivered his
sentiments strongly in favour of the proposition. His display, on this
occasion, seems to have been less promising than in his first essay. His
delivery was thought mouthing and theatrical, being infected, I take for
granted (having never heard him speak in Parliament), with the same
chanting tone that disfigured his recitation of poetry,--a tone
contracted at most of the public schools, but more particularly,
perhaps, at Harrow, and encroaching just enough on the boundaries of
song to offend those ears most by which song is best enjoyed and
understood.
On the subject of the negotiations for a change of ministry which took
place during this session, I find the following anecdotes recorded in
his notebook:--
"At the opposition meeting of the peers in 1812, at Lord Grenville's,
when Lord Grey and he read to us the correspondence upon Moira's
negotiation, I sate next to the present Duke of Grafton, and said, 'What
is to be done next?'--'Wake the Duke of Norfolk' (who was snoring away
near us), replied he: 'I don't think the negotiators have left any thing
else for us to do this turn.'
"In the debate, or rather discussion, afterwards in the House of Lords
upon that very question, I sate immediately behind Lord Moira, who was
extremely annoyed at Grey's speech upon the subject; and, while Grey was
speaking, turned round to me repeatedly, and asked me whether I agreed
with him. It was an awkward question to me who had not heard both sides.
Moira kept repeating to me, 'It was _not so_, it was so and so,' &c. I
did not know very well what to think, but I sympathised with the
acuteness of his feelings upon the subject."
The subject of the Catholic claims was, it is well known, brought
forward a second time this session by Lord Wellesley, whose motion for a
future consideration of the question was carried by a majority of one.
In reference to this division, another rather amusing anecdote is thus
related.
"Lord * * affects an imitation of two very different Chancellors,
Thurlow and Loughborough, and can indulge in an oath now and then. On
one of the debates on the Catholic question, when we were either equal
or within one (I forget which), I had been sent for in great haste to a
ball, which I quitted, I confess, somewhat reluctantly, to emancipate
five millions of people. I came in late, and did not go immediately into
the body of the House, but stood just behind the woolsack. * * turned
round, and, catching my eye, immediately said to a peer, (who had come
to him for a few minutes on the woolsack, as is the custom of his
friends,) 'Damn them! they'll have it now,--by G----d! the vote that is
just come in will give it them.'"
During all this time, the impression which he had produced in society,
both as a poet and a man, went on daily increasing; and the facility
with which he gave himself up to the current of fashionable life, and
mingled in all the gay scenes through which it led, showed that the
novelty, at least, of this mode of existence had charms for him, however
he might estimate its pleasures. That sort of vanity which is almost
inseparable from genius, and which consists in an extreme sensitiveness
on the subject of self, Lord Byron, I need not say, possessed in no
ordinary degree; and never was there a career in which this sensibility
to the opinions of others was exposed to more constant and various
excitement than that on which he was now entered. I find in a note of my
own to him, written at this period, some jesting allusions to the
"circle of star-gazers" whom I had left around him at some party on the
preceding night;--and such, in fact, was the flattering ordeal he had to
undergo wherever he went. On these occasions,--particularly before the
range of his acquaintance had become sufficiently extended to set him
wholly at his ease,--his air and port were those of one whose better
thoughts were elsewhere, and who looked with melancholy abstraction on
the gay crowd around him. This deportment, so rare in such scenes, and
so accordant with the romantic notions entertained of him, was the
result partly of shyness, and partly, perhaps, of that love of effect
and impression to which the poetical character of his mind naturally
led. Nothing, indeed, could be more amusing and delightful than the
contrast which his manners afterwards, when we were alone, presented to
his proud reserve in the brilliant circle we had just left. It was like
the bursting gaiety of a boy let loose from school, and seemed as if
there was no extent of fun or tricks of which he was not capable.
Finding him invariably thus lively when we were together, I often
rallied him on the gloomy tone of his poetry, as assumed; but his
constant answer was (and I soon ceased to doubt of its truth), that,
though thus merry and full of laughter with those he liked, he was, at
heart, one of the most melancholy wretches in existence.
Among the numerous notes which I received from him at this time,--some
of them relating to our joint engagements in society, and others to
matters now better forgotten,--I shall select a few that (as showing his
haunts and habits) may not, perhaps, be uninteresting.
"March 25. 1812.
"Know all men by these presents, that you, Thomas Moore, stand
indicted--no--invited, by special and particular solicitation, to
Lady C. L * *'s to-morrow 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," &c.
* * * * *
"Friday noon.
"I should have answered your note yesterday, but I hoped to have
seen you this morning. I must consult with you about the day we
dine with Sir Francis. I suppose we shall meet at Lady Spencer's
to-night. I did not know that you were at Miss Berry's the other
night, or I should have certainly gone there.
"As usual, I am in all sorts of scrapes, though none, at present,
of a martial description.
"Believe me," &c.
* * * * *
"May 8. 1812.
"I am too proud of being your friend to care with whom I am linked
in your estimation, and, God knows, I want friends more at this
time than at any other. I am 'taking care of myself' to no great
purpose. If you knew my situation in every point of view you would
excuse apparent and unintentional neglect. I shall leave town, I
think; but do not you leave it without seeing me. I wish you, from
my soul, every happiness you can wish yourself; and I think you
have taken the road to secure it. Peace be with you! I fear she has
abandoned me.
"Ever," &c.
* * * * *
"May 20. 1812.
"On Monday, after sitting up all night, I saw Bellingham launched
into eternity[48], and at three the same day I saw * * * launched
into the country.
"I believe, in the beginning of June, I shall be down for a few
days in Notts. If so, I shall beat you up 'en passant' with
Hobhouse, who is endeavouring, like you and every body else, to
keep me out of scrapes.
"I meant to have written you a long letter, but I find I cannot. If
any thing remarkable occurs, you will hear it from me--if good; if
_bad_, there are plenty to tell it. In the mean time, do you be
happy.
"Ever yours, &c.
"P.S.--My best wishes and respects to Mrs. * *;--she is beautiful.
I may say so even to you, for I never was more struck with a
countenance."
[Footnote 48: He had taken a window opposite for the purpose, and was
accompanied on the occasion by his old schoolfellows, Mr. Bailey and Mr.
John Madocks. They went together from some assembly, and, on their
arriving at the spot, about three o'clock in the morning, not finding
the house that was to receive them open, Mr. Madocks undertook to rouse
the inmates, while Lord Byron and Mr. Bailey sauntered, arm in arm, up
the street. During this interval, rather a painful scene occurred.
Seeing an unfortunate woman lying on the steps of a door, Lord Byron,
with some expression of compassion, offered her a few shillings: but,
instead of accepting them, she violently pushed away his hand, and,
starting up with a yell of laughter, began to mimic the lameness of his
gait. He did not utter a word; but "I could feel," said Mr. Bailey, "his
arm trembling within mine, as we left her."
I may take this opportunity of mentioning another anecdote connected
with his lameness. In coming out, one night, from a ball, with Mr.
Rogers, as they were on their way to their carriage, one of the
link-boys ran on before Lord Byron, crying, "This way, my Lord."--"He
seems to know you," said Mr. Rogers.--"Know me!" answered Lord Byron,
with some degree of bitterness in his tone--"every one knows me,--I am
deformed."]
* * * * *
Among the tributes to his fame, this spring, it should have been
mentioned that, at some evening party, he had the honour of being
presented, at that royal personage's own desire, to the Prince Regent.
"The Regent," says Mr. Dallas, "expressed his admiration of Childe
Harold's Pilgrimage, and continued a conversation, which so fascinated
the poet, that had it not been for an accidental deferring of the next
levee, he bade fair to become a visiter at Carlton House, if not a
complete courtier."
After this wise prognostic, the writer adds,--"I called on him on the
morning for which the levee had been appointed, and found him in a full
dress court suit of clothes, with his fine black hair in powder, which
by no means suited his countenance. I was 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 apologise 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 the two letters that follow we find his own account of the
introduction.