the following reply:--"As for poor Shelley, who also frightens you and
the world, he is, to my knowledge, the least egotistical and kindest of
men. I know no one who has so sacrificed both fortune and sentiments for
the good of others; as for his speculative opinions, we have none in
common, nor do I wish to have any."
All the poems which he wrote at this time, and which admitted of his
introducing the religious element either purposely or accidentally into
them, prove one and all that his mind, as regards religion, was as we
have shown it to be. This is particularly noticeable in his mystery
called "Heaven and Earth;" but the same remark is applicable to others,
such as the "Island," and even to some passages in "Don Juan." "Heaven
and Earth"--a poem which appeared about this time, and which he styled
"A Mystery"--is a biblical poem in which all the thoughts agree with the
Book of Genesis, and "which was inspired," says Galt, "by a mind both
serious and patriarchal, and is an echo of the oracles of Adam and of
Melchisedec." In this work he exhibits as much veneration for scriptural
theology as Milton himself. In the "Island," which he wrote at Genoa,
there are passages which penetrate the soul with so religious a feeling,
that Benjamin Constant, in reading it, and indignant at hearing Byron
called an unbeliever, exclaimed in his work on religion, "I am assured
that there are men who accuse Lord Byron of atheism and impiety. There
is more religion in the twelve lines which I have quoted than in the
past, present, and future writings of all his detractors put together."
Even in "Don Juan," in that admirable satire which, not being rightly
understood, has given rise to so many calumnies, he says, after having
spoken in the fifteenth canto of the moral greatness of various men, and
among others of Socrates:--
"And thou, Diviner still,
Whose lot it is by man to be mistaken,
And thy pure creed made sanction of all ill?
Redeeming worlds to be by bigots shaken,
How was thy toil rewarded?"
At the end of this stanza he wrote the following note:----
"As it is necessary in these times to avoid ambiguity, I say that I mean
by 'Diviner still,' Christ. If ever God was man--or man God--he was
both. I never arraigned his creed, but the use or abuse made of it. Mr.
Canning one day quoted Christianity to sanction negro slavery, and Mr.
Wilberforce had little to say in reply. And was Christ crucified that
black men might be scourged? If so, he had better been born a mulatto,
to give both colors an equal chance of freedom, or at least salvation."
Notwithstanding these beautiful lines, which were equally professions of
faith, England, instead of doing Byron justice, continued more than ever
to persecute him.
Shortly afterward he embarked at Genoa for Greece, and halted at
Cephalonia. He there made the acquaintance of a young Scotchman, named
Kennedy, who was attached as doctor to the Greek army. Before taking to
medicine this young man had studied law, with the intention of going to
the Edinburgh bar. He was so deeply convinced of the truths of
Christianity, and so familiar with its teaching, that he would fain have
imparted his belief to every one he met. From his position he found
himself among a host of young officers, mostly Scotch, and all more or
less lax in their religious practices. Among these, however, he met with
four who consented to listen to his explanation of the doctrines of
Christianity. As their principal challenge was to show proofs that the
Bible was of divine origin, he accepted the challenge in the hope of
making some conversions.
One of these officers informed Lord Byron of this projected meeting, and
Byron, from the interest which he always took in the subject which was
to be their ground of discussion, expressed a wish to be present. "You
know," said he, "that I am looked upon as a black sheep, and yet I am
not as black as the world makes me out, nor worse than others,"--words,
which, from the fact of his rarely doing himself justice, were
noteworthy in his mouth.
Under such auspices, then, was Kennedy fortunate enough to open his
discussion, and Lord Byron was present in company of the young Count
Gamba and Dr. Bruno.
Mr. Kennedy has given a detailed account of this meeting, as also of his
subsequent conversations with Lord Byron. We will mention some of them
here, because they show Lord Byron's religious opinions in the latter
portion of his life. Mr. Kennedy had made a condition that he should be
allowed to speak, without being interrupted, but at various intervals,
for twelve hours. This condition, was soon set aside, and then Lord
Byron joined the conversation. After exciting admiration by his patient
silence, he astounded every one as an interlocutor. If Kennedy was well
versed in the Scriptures, Lord Byron was not less so, and even able to
correct a misquotation from Holy Writ. The direct object of the meeting
was to prove that the Scriptures contained the genuine and direct
revelation of God's will. Mr. Kennedy, however, becoming a little
entangled in a series of quotations, which had not the force that was
required to prove his statements, and, seeing that a little impatience
betrayed itself among the audience, could not resist showing some
temper, and accusing his hearers of ignorance. "Strange accusation, when
applied to Lord Byron," says Galt. Lord Byron, who had come there to be
interested, and to learn, did not notice the taunt of Mr. Kennedy, but
merely remarked, "that all that can be desired is to be convinced of the
truth of the Bible, as containing really the word of God; for if this is
sincerely believed, it must follow, as a necessary consequence, that one
must believe all the doctrines contained in it."
He then added, that in his youth he had been brought up by his mother in
very strict religious principles; had read a large number of theological
works, and that Barrow's writings had most pleased him; that he
regularly went to church, that he was by no means an unbeliever who
denied the Scriptures, and wished to grope in atheism; but, on the
contrary, that all his wish was to increase his belief, as
half-convictions made him wretched. He declared, however, that he could
not thoroughly understand the Scriptures. He also added, that he
entertained the highest respect for, and confidence in, those who
believed conscientiously; but that he had met with many whose conduct
differed from the principles they professed simply from interested
motives, and esteemed the number of those who really believed in the
Scriptures to be very small. He asked him about his opinion as to
various writers against religion, and among others of Sir W. Hamilton,
Bellamy, and Warburton, who pretend that the Jews had no notion of a
future existence. He confessed that the sight of so much evil was a
difficulty to him, which he could not explain, and which made him
question the perfect goodness of the Creator. He dwelt upon this
argument a long time, exhibiting as much tenderness of heart as force of
reasoning. Kennedy's answers were weak, as must be those of one who
denies the measure of evil, in order that he may not be compassionate
toward it, and who promises a reward in after life to escape the
necessity of its being bestowed in the present. In reply Lord Byron
pointed to moral and physical evil which exists among savages, to whom
Scripture is unknown, and who are bereft of all the means of becoming
civilized people. Why are they deprived of these gifts of God? and what
is to be the ultimate fate of Pagans? He quoted several objections made
to our Lord by the apostles; mentioned prophecies which had never been
fulfilled, and spoke of the consequences of religious wars. Kennedy
replied with much ability, and even with a certain degree of eloquence,
and prudently made use of the ordinary theological arguments. But to
influence such a mind as Byron's more was required. In the search after
truth, he looked for hard logic, and eloquence was not required by him.
Fenelon could not have persuaded him; but Descartes might have
influenced him. He preferred, in fact, in such arguments, the method of
the geometrician to that of the artist; the one uses truth to arrive at
truth, the other makes use of the beautiful only, to arrive at the same
end.
The meeting lasted four hours, and created much sensation in the island,
and every one agreed in praising Lord Byron's great knowledge of the
Scriptures, joined to his moderation and modesty. Kennedy, however, a
little irritated by the superiority granted to his adversary, did his
best to dissipate the impression produced by it. He went so far as to
reproach his friends for having allowed themselves to be blinded by the
rank, the celebrity, and the prestige of Lord Byron. "His theological
knowledge being," said he, "in reality quite ordinary and superficial."
This meeting was the only one in which Lord Byron took a part, for he
left Argostoli for Metaxata.
The meetings continued, however, for some time longer, and Kennedy
showed a zeal which deserved to meet with better success. He brought
before his audience with talent every possible reasoning in favor of
orthodoxy; but his audience, composed of young men, were far too
engrossed with worldly occupations to be caught by the ardor of their
master's zeal. Disappointed at not seeing Lord Byron again among them,
they all deserted Kennedy's lectures just at the time when he was going
to speak of miracles and prophecies, the subject of all others upon
which he had built his greatest hopes. Not only did they desert the
hall, but actually overwhelmed the speaker with mockery. Some declared
they would put off their conversion to a more advanced age; others
actually maintained that they had less faith than before.
Meanwhile Kennedy, though disappointed in his religious enthusiasm on
the one hand, received some consolation on the other, at the hands of
Lord Byron, who had not forgotten him, and who often inquired after him
though he had not been convinced by his arguments. Kennedy also had
conceived a great liking for Byron. He admired in the poet all his
graceful qualities and his unequalled talents. He wished, but dared not
yet, visit Lord Byron. Meeting, however, Count Gamba at Argostoli on one
occasion, and hearing from him that Byron was on the point of departure
for Continental Greece, he resolved to pay him a visit, "as much," said
he, "to show the respect which is due to such a man, as to satisfy one's
own curiosity in seeing and hearing so distinguished a person."
Byron received him with his natural cordiality. He made him stay to
dinner with him, and thus gave him the opportunity of entering into a
long conversation. Kennedy, who never lost sight of his mission of
proselytism, brought the conversation round to the object of his wishes,
and prefaced his arguments by saying that he was prepared to talk upon
the matter; but that he had no doubt lost his time, since it was not
likely that his lordship would consider these subjects urgent at that
moment. Byron smiled and replied, "It is true that at the present time I
have not given that important subject all my attention, but I should
nevertheless be curious to know the motives which not only have
convinced you, as a man of sense and reflection, as you undoubtedly are,
of the truth of religion, but also have induced you to profess
Christianity with such zeal."
"If there had been men," said Kennedy, "who had rejected Christianity,
there were greater men still who had accepted it; but to adopt a system
merely because others have adopted it is not to act rationally, unless
it is proved that the great minds which adopted it were mistaken."
"But I have not the slightest desire," answered Byron, "to reject a
doctrine without having investigated it. Quite the contrary; I wish to
believe, because I feel extremely unhappy in a state of uncertainty as
to what I am to believe."
Kennedy having told him then that to obtain the grace of faith, he
should pray humbly for it, Byron replied, that prayer does not consist
in the act of kneeling or of repeating certain words in a solemn manner:
"Devotion is the affection of the heart, and that I possess, for when I
look at the marvels of creation I bow before the Majesty of Heaven, and
when I experience the delights of life, health, and happiness, then my
heart dilates in gratitude toward God for all His blessings."
"That is not sufficient," continued the doctor. "I should wish your
lordship to read the Bible with the greatest attention, having prayed
earnestly before that the Almighty may grant you the grace to understand
it. For, however great your talents, the book will be a sealed letter to
you unless the Holy Spirit inspires you."
"I read the Bible more than you think," said Byron. "I have a Bible
which my sister, who is goodness itself, gave me, and I often peruse
it."
He then went into his bedroom, and brought out a handsomely-bound pocket
Bible which he showed the doctor. The latter advised his continuing to
read it, but expressed his surprise that Byron should not have better
understood it. He looked out several passages in which it is enjoined
that we should pray with humility if we wish to understand the truth of
the Gospel; and where it is expressly said that no human wisdom can
fathom these truths; but that God alone can reveal them to us, and
enlighten our understanding; that we must not scrutinize His acts, but
be submissive as children to His will; and that, as obedience through
the sin of our first parents, and our own evil inclinations, has become
for us a positive difficulty, we must change our hearts before we can
obey or take pleasure in obeying the commandments of our Lord God; and,
finally, that all, whatever the rank of each, are subject to the
necessity of obedience.
Byron's occupations and ideas at that time were not quite in accordance
with the nature of these holy words, but he received them with his usual
kind and modest manner, because they came from one who was sincere. He
only replied, that, as to the wickedness of the world, he was quite of
his opinion, as he had found it in every class of society; but that the
doctrines which he had put forth would oblige him to plunge into all the
problems respecting the Old Testament and original sin, which many
learned persons, as good Christians as Dr. Kennedy, did not hesitate to
reject. He then showed the doctor, in answer to the latter's rather
intolerant assertion of the omnipotence of the Bible, how conversant he
was with the subject by quoting several Christian authors who thought
differently. He quoted Bishop Watson, who, while professing
Christianity, did not attribute such authority to the contents of the
Bible. He also mentioned the Waldenses, who were such good Christians
that they were called "the true Church of Christ," but who,
nevertheless, looked upon the Bible as merely the history of the Jews.
He then showed that the Book of Genesis was considered by many doctors
of divinity as a mere symbol or allegory. He took up the defense of
Gibbon against Kennedy's insinuation that the great historian had
maliciously and intentionally kept back the truth; he quoted Warburton
as a man whose ingenious theories have found much favor with many
learned persons; finally, he proved to the doctor that, in any case, he
could not himself be accused of ignorance of the subject.
This conversation afforded him the opportunity also of refuting the
accusation brought against him by some of his numerous enemies; namely,
that of having a tendency to the doctrines of Manicheism. Kennedy having
said that the spirit of evil, as well as the angels, is subject to the
will of God, Lord Byron replied,----
"If received in a literal sense, I find that it gives one a far higher
notion of God's majesty, power, and wisdom, if we believe that the
spirit of evil is really subject to the will of the Almighty, and is as
easily controlled by Him as the elements follow the respective laws
which He has made for them."
Byron could not bear any thing which took away from the greatness of the
Divinity, and his words all tended to replace the Divinity in that
incomprehensible space where He must be silently acknowledged and
adored. Their conversation extended to other points of religious belief.
While the doctor, taking the Bible to be the salvation of mankind,
indulged in exaggerated and intolerant condemnation of the Catholic
Church, which he called an abominable hierarchy not less to be regretted
than Deism and Socinianism, Byron again displayed a spirit of toleration
and moderation. Though he disapproved of the doctor's language, he did
not contradict him, believing him to be sincere in his recriminations,
but brought back the conversation to that point from which common sense
should never depart. He deplored with him existing hypocrisies and
superstitions, which he looked upon as the cause of the unbelief of many
in the existence of God; but he added, that it was not confined to the
Continent only, but likewise existed in England. Instead of resting his
hopes upon the Bible, he said that he knew the Scriptures well enough
"to be sure that if the spirit of meekness and goodness which the
religion of the Gospel contains were put into practice by men, there
would certainly be a marvellous change in this wicked world;" and he
finished by saying, that as for himself he had, as a rule, ever
respected those who believed conscientiously, whatever that belief might
be; in the same manner as he detested from his heart hypocrites of all
kinds, and especially hypocrites in religion.
He then changed the topic of conversation, and turned it to literature.
All he said on that subject is so interesting that I reserve the record
of it to another chapter. The doctor, however, soon resumed the former
subject of their conversation, and, more in the spirit of a missionary
than a philosopher, he went on to recommend the study of Christianity,
which he said was summed up entirely in the Scriptures.
"But what will you have me do?" said Byron. "I do not reject the
doctrines of Christianity, I only ask a few more proofs to profess them
sincerely. I do not believe myself to be the vile Christian which
many--to whom I have never done any harm, and many of whom do not even
know me--strenuously assert that I am, and attack me violently in
consequence."
The doctor insisted.
"But," said Byron, "you go too fast. There are many points still to be
cleared up, and when these shall have been explained, I shall then
examine what you tell me."
"What are those difficulties?" replied the doctor. "If the subject is
important, why delay its explanation? You have time; reason upon it;
reflect. You have the means of disposing of the difficulty at your
command."
"True," answered Byron, "but I am the slave of circumstances, and the
sphere in which I live is not likely to make me consider the subject."
As the doctor became more urgent, Byron said----
"How will you have me begin?"
"Begin this very night to pray God that he may forgive you your sins,
and may grant you grace to know the truth. If you pray, and read your
Bible with purity of intention, the result must be that which we so
ardently wish for."
"Well, yes," replied Byron, "I will certainly study these matters with
attention."
"But your lordship must bear in mind, that you should not be
discouraged, even were your doubts and difficulties to increase; for
nothing can be understood without sufficient time and pains. You must
weigh conscientiously each argument, and continue to pray to God, in
whom at least you believe, to give you the necessary understanding."
"Why then," asked Byron, "increase the difficulties, when they are
already so great?"
The doctor then took the mystery of the Trinity as an example, and
spoke of it as a man who has faith and accepts the mystery as a revealed
dogma.
"It is not the province of man," said he, "to comprehend or analyze the
nature of an existence which is entirely spiritual, such as that of the
Divinity; but we must accept it, and believe in it, because it has been
revealed to us, being fully convinced that man in his present state will
never be able to fathom such mysteries."
He not only blamed those who wish to explain all things, but likewise
the presumption of certain theologians in mixing up their own arguments
with the revelations of Scripture in order to prove the unity in the
Trinity, and who speculate upon the attributes of the Deity to ascertain
the relative mode of existence of each of the three persons who compose
the Trinity. "They must fall," he added, "or lead others to a similar
end." Hence he concluded that mysteries should be believed in
implicitly, as children believe fully what their parents tell them.
"I therefore advise your lordship," said he, "to put aside all difficult
subjects,--such as the origin of sin, the fall of man, the nature of the
Trinity, the mystery of predestination, etc.,--and to study Christianity
not in books of theology, which, even the best, are all more or less
imperfect, but in the careful examination of the Scriptures. By
comparing each part of it, you will at last find a harmony so great in
all its constituent parts, and so much wisdom in its entire whole, that
you will no longer be able to doubt its divine origin, and hence that it
contains the only means of salvation."
To so firm and enviable a faith, Byron replied as follows:--
"You recommend what is very difficult; for how is it possible for one
who is acquainted with ecclesiastical history, as well as with the
writings of the most renowned theologians, with all the difficult
questions which have agitated the minds of the most learned, and who
sees the divisions and sects which abound in Christianity, and the
bitter language which is often used by the one against the other; how is
it possible, I ask, for such a one not to inquire into the nature of the
doctrines which have given rise to so much discussion? One Council has
pronounced against another; Popes have belied their predecessors, books
have been written against other books, and sects have risen to replace
other sects; the Pope has opposed the Protestants and the Protestants
the Pope. We have heard of Arianism, Socinianism, Methodism, Quakerism,
and numberless other sects. Why have these existed? It is a puzzle for
the brain; and does it not, after all, seem safer to say 'Let us be
neutral; let those fight who will, and when they have settled which is
the best religion, then shall we also begin to study it?'
"I, however, like," he continued, "your way of thinking, in many
respects; you make short work of decrees and councils, you reject all
which is not in harmony with the Scriptures, you do not admit of
theological works filled with Latin and Greek of both high and low
church, you would even suppress many abuses which have crept into the
Church, and you are right; but I question whether the Archbishop of
Canterbury or the Scotch Presbyterians would consider you their ally.
"As for predestination, I do not believe as S---- and M---- do on that
subject, but as you do; for it appears to me that I am influenced in a
manner which I can not understand, and am led to do things which my will
does not direct. If, as we all admit, there is a supreme Ruler of the
universe, and if, as you say, He rules, over both good and bad spirits,
then those actions which we perform against our will are likewise under
His direction. I have never tried to sift this subject, but satisfied
myself by believing that there is, in certain events, a predestination
which depends upon the will of God."
The doctor replied, "that he had founded his belief upon his own
grounds."
The doctor then touched upon the differences which existed in religious
opinions, and expressed his regret at this, while showing, nevertheless,
some indulgence for those Christian sects which do not attack the actual
fundamental doctrines of Christianity. But he was intolerant as regards
other sects, such as Arianism, Socinianism, and Swedenborgianism, of
which he spoke almost with passion.
"You seem to hate the Socinians greatly," remarked Byron, "but is this
charitable? Why exclude a Socinian, who believes honestly, from any hope
of salvation? Does he not also found his belief upon the Bible? It is a
religion which gains ground daily. Lady Byron is much in favor with its
followers. We were wont to discuss religious matters together, and many
of our misunderstandings have arisen from that. Yet, on the whole, I
think her religion and mine were much alike."
Of course the doctor deplored the existence of such bold doctrines.
Lord Byron then spoke of Shelley:--
"I wish," he said, "you had known him, and that I might have got you
both together. You remind me of him, not only in looks, but by your
manner of speaking."
Besides physical appearance, it is easy to understand that there existed
a great likeness between the two minds, different though their moral
tendencies might have been. In both could be traced that degree of
mysticism and expansiveness, which make the poet and the missionary.
Byron praised the virtues of Shelley, and styled them Christian, and
spoke mainly of his great benevolence of character, and of his
generosity above his means.
"Certainly," replied the doctor, "such rare virtues are esteemed among
Christians, but they can not be called Christian virtues, unless they
spring from Christian principles: and in Shelley they were not so. His
virtues might deserve human praise, they were no doubt pagan virtues;
but they were nothing in the eyes of God, since God has declared that
nothing pleases Him but that which springs from a good motive,
especially the love of and belief in Christ, which was wanting in
Shelley."
When Kennedy had characterized Shelley in even stronger terms, Byron
said to him: "I see it is impossible to move your soul to any sympathy,
or even to obtain from you in common justice a little indulgence for an
unfortunate young man, gifted with a lofty mind and a fine imagination."
These remarks reveal the tolerant spirit of Lord Byron, but they also
show how the best natures are spoiled by dogmatism.
The conversation had lasted several hours. Night was coming on, and the
doctor, carried away by his zeal, had forgotten the hour. His host,
however, did nothing to remind him of it, and when Kennedy got up to
take his leave, he said to Byron, after making excuses for remaining so
long, "God having gifted you, my lord, with a mind which can grasp every
subject, I am convinced that if your lordship would devote yourself to
the study of religion, you would become one of its lights, the pride of
your country, and the consolation of every honest person."
Lord Byron replied:--
"I certainly intend to study the matter, but you must give me a little
time. You see that I have begun well: I listen to all you say. Don't you
find that my arguments are more like your own than you would have
thought?"
"Yes," answered the doctor, "and it gives me great pleasure. I have far
better hopes of your lordship's conversion than of that of the young
officers who listened to me without understanding the meaning of my
words. You have shown greater patience and candor than I could have
imagined you to be capable of; whereas they, on the contrary, exhibited
so hardened a spirit that they appeared to look upon the subject as one
which lent itself admirably to ridicule and laughter."
"You must allow," said Byron, "that in the times in which we are now
living it is difficult to bestow attention to any serious religious
matter. I think, however, I can promise to reflect even more on the
subject than I have done hitherto, without, however, promising to adopt
your orthodox views."
The doctor then asked him leave to present him with the work of B----,
which he commended in high terms. Lord Byron said he would have great
pleasure in reading it, and told the doctor that he should always be
happy to see him, and at any time that he liked to come. "Should I be
out when you come," he added, "take my books and read until my return."
On leaving Byron the doctor reflected over all that had taken place, and
feared that his zeal had carried him too far--that his long conversation
might have tired rather than interested Byron; but on the whole, he
concluded by saying to himself, "It appears to me, that Byron never
exhibited the least symptom of fatigue, but, on the contrary,
continually showed great attention from beginning to end."
We have, perhaps, dwelt too much in our report of this conversation, but
we wished to do so for several reasons. First, because it shows, better
than a public debate, the real thoughts and feelings of Byron on
religious matters, next, the real nature of his religious opinions, and
finally we find, in Byron's conversation, virtues such as amiability,
goodness, patience, delicacy, and toleration, which have not been
sufficiently noticed.
The sympathy which Kennedy had conceived for Byron after the public
meeting greatly increased after this first conversation. The candor and
simplicity depicted on his handsome countenance, showed that his lofty
intelligence could, better than any one else, grasp the theories of the
doctor; and the latter felt that if he could not prevail in making Byron
a believer in his own orthodox views, at least he could prepare the way
for the acquirement of every virtue, and he resolved, therefore, to
profit by the permission given him of often visiting Byron.
Meanwhile, the young officers continued their jokes, and pretended that
Byron was laughing at the doctor, and making use of him in order to
study Methodism, which he wished to introduce into his poem of "Don
Juan." There is, however, a community of feeling between two frank
natures, and Byron felt that the doctor's sincerity commanded respect,
while the doctor, on the other hand, knew that Lord Byron was too
earnest to condescend to a mockery of him.
"There was," says Kennedy, "nothing flighty in his manner with me, and
nothing which showed any desire to laugh at religion."
When he returned to see Lord Byron, he found him more than ever
preoccupied with his approaching departure for Continental Greece, and
engrossed with a multitude of various occupations and visits. Byron,
nevertheless, received him most graciously, and maintained that jovial
humor which was one of his characteristics in conversation. Byron had
reflected a good deal since his last interview with the doctor, but the
direction which his thoughts had taken was not precisely that which the
doctor had advised him to pursue. They did not agree with the tenets of
the doctor's religion. The latter had not advised an unlimited use of
one's reason, but, on the contrary, had recommended reliance on the
traditional and orthodox teachings of the Church. To reason, however,
constituted in Byron a positive necessity. He could not admit that God
had given us the power of thought not to make use of it, and obliged us
to believe that which in religion, as in other things, appears
ridiculous to our reason and shocks our sense of justice. "It is useless
to tell me," he said, somewhere in his memoranda, "that I am to believe
and not to reason: you might just as well tell a man, 'Wake not, but
sleep.' Then to be threatened with eternal sufferings and torments!--I
can not help thinking that as many devils are created by the threat of
eternal punishment, as numberless criminals are made by the severity of
the penal laws."
Mysteries and dogmas, however, were not objectionable to Byron. This was
shown in his conversation with Kennedy on the subject of the Trinity and
of predestination. However little disposed he may have been to believe
in mysteries, he nevertheless bowed in submission before their
existence, and respected the faith which they inspire in minds more
happily constituted than his own. His partial skepticism, or rather that
in him which has been so denominated, was humble and modest in
comparison to Montaigne's skepticism. Byron admitted that these were
mysteries because the littleness of man and the greatness of God were
ever present to him. He would have agreed with Newton in saying that "he
was like a child playing on the beach with the waves which bathed the
sands. The water with which he played was what he knew; what he ignored
was the widespread ocean before him." Surrounded as we are by mysteries
on all sides, he would have esteemed it presumption on his part to
reject, in the name of science, all the mysteries of religion, when
science itself has only to deal with phenomena. All is necessarily a
mystery in its origin, and not to understand was no sufficient reason in
the eyes of Byron to deny altogether the existence of matters relating
to the Divinity. Could he reject religious dogmas under the pretext of
not being able to understand them, when he admitted others equally
difficult of comprehension, although supported by logical proofs?
Among the mysteries of religion founded entirely upon revelation, there
was one, however, which not only weighed upon his mind, but actually
gave him positive pain. This was the dogma of eternal punishment, which
he could not reconcile with the idea of an omnipotent Creator, as
omnipotence implies perfect goodness and justice, of which the ideal has
been implanted in our hearts. Here again his objections sprang from
kindness of disposition.
After speaking a while on the subject of prayer, Byron said to
Kennedy:--
"There is a book which I must show you," and, having chosen from a
number of books on the table an octavo volume, entitled "Illustrations
of the Moral Government of God, by E. Smith, M.D., London," he showed it
to Kennedy, and asked him whether he knew of it. On Kennedy replying in
the negative, Byron said that the author of the book proved that hell
was not a place of eternal punishment.
"This is no new doctrine," replied Kennedy, "and I presume the author to
be a Socinian, who, if consistent at all with his opinions, will sooner
or later reject the Bible entirely, and avow himself to be what he
really is already, namely, a Deist. Where did your lordship find the
book?"
"It was sent to me from England," replied Byron, "to convert me, I
suppose. The author's arguments are very powerful. They are taken from
the Bible, and, while proving that the day will come when every
intellectual being will enjoy the bliss of eternal happiness, he shows
how impossible is the doctrine which pretends that sin and misery can
exist eternally under the government of a God whose principle attributes
are goodness and love."
"But," said Kennedy, "how does he then explain the existence of sin in
the world for upward of 6000 years? That is equally inconsistent with
the notion of perfect love and goodness as united in God."
"I can not admit the soundness of your argument," replied Byron; "for
God may allow sin and misery to co-exist for a time, but His goodness
must prevail in the end, and cause their existence to cease. At any rate
it is better to believe that the infinite goodness of God, while
allowing evil to exist as a means of our arriving at perfection, will
show itself still greater some day when every intellectual being shall
be purified and freed from the bondage of sin and misery."
As Kennedy persisted in arguing against the author's opinions, Lord
Byron asked him "Why he was so desirous of proving the eternity of hell,
since such a doctrine was most decidedly against the gentle and kind
character of the teaching of Christ?" To other arguments on the same
subject, Byron replied, that he could not determine as to the justice of
their conclusions, but that he could not help thinking it would be very
desirable to show that in the end all created beings must be happy, and
therefore rather agreed with Mr. Smith than with the doctor.
As Lord Byron, however, had always allowed that man was free in thought
and action, and therefore a responsible being made to justify the ends
of Providence, he believed that Providence did give some sanction to the
laws implanted in our natures. Sinners must be punished, but a merciful
God must proportion punishments to the weakness of our natures, and
Byron therefore inclined toward the Catholic belief in Purgatory, which
agreed better with his own appreciation of the goodness and mercy of
God.
Lord Byron's preference for Catholicism is well known. His first
successes of oratory in the House of Lords were due to the cause of
Catholicism in Ireland, which he defended; and when he wished his little
daughter Allegra to be brought up in the Catholic faith, he wrote to Mr.
Hoppner, British consul at Venice, who had always taken a lively
interest in the child, to say that:--
"In the convent of Bagna-Cavallo she will at least have her education
advanced, and her morals and religion cared for.... It is, besides, my
wish that she should be a Roman Catholic, which I look upon as the best
religion, as it is assuredly the oldest of the various branches of
Christianity."
This predilection for Catholicism was not the result of the poetry of
that religion, or of the effect which its pomps and gorgeous ceremonies
produced upon the imagination. They, no doubt, were not indifferent to a
mind so easily impressed as his, but not sufficient to justify his
preference; for Byron, although a poet, never allowed his reason to be
swayed by his imagination. He reasoned upon every subject. His
objections proceeded as much from his mind as his heart. "Catholicism,"
he was wont say, "is the most ancient of worships; and as for our own
heresy, it unquestionably had its origin in vice. With regard to those
difficulties which baffle our understanding, are they more easily
explained by Protestants than by Catholics?
"Catholicism, at least, is a consoling religion, and its belief in
Purgatory conciliates the justice of the Almighty with His goodness. Why
has Protestantism given up so human a belief? To intercede for and do
good to beings whom we have loved here below, is to be not altogether
separated from them."
"I often regretted," he said on one occasion at Pisa, "that I was not
born a Catholic. Purgatory is a consoling doctrine. I am surprised that
the Reformers gave it up, or that they did not at least substitute for
it something equally consoling." "It is," he remarked to Shelley, "a
refinement of the doctrine of transmigration taught by your stupid
philosophers."
It was, therefore, chiefly this doctrine, and his abhorrence of Calvin,
which attracted Byron toward Catholicism. A comparison was made before
him, on one occasion, between Catholicism and Protestantism. "What
matters," said Byron, "that Protestantism has decreased the number of
its obligations, and reduced its articles of faith? Both religions
proceed from the same origin,--authority and examination. It matters
little that the measures of either be different; but why does the
Protestant deny to the Catholic the privilege, which he claims more than
he uses, of free examination? Catholics also claim the right of proving
the soundness of their belief, and, therefore, admit likewise the right
of discussion and examination. As for authority, if the Catholic obeys
the Church and considers it infallible, does not the Protestant do the
same with the Bible? And while recognizing the authority of the Church
on the one hand, on the other he claims a right to free examination,
does he not incur the liability of being thought inconsistent? And,
after all, is not the authority of the Church the better of the two?
There seems to greater peace for the mind who confides in it, than in
the belief in the authority of a book, where one must ever seek the way
to salvation by becoming a theologian, as it were. And is it not fairer
to have certain books, such, for instance, as the 'Apocalypse,'
explained to us by the Church, than to have them expounded by people
more or less well informed or prejudiced?"
Such were Byron's views, if not his very words. Before Byron left for
Greece, Kennedy had several other conversations with him; but as the
limits of this chapter do not allow of my entering into them, I will
merely add that they all prove the great charm of Byron's mind, and the
gentleness of his nature in dealing with persons of contrary opinions to
his own, but who argued honestly and from conviction. So it came about
that, although the most docile of the doctor's pupils, he refused to
change his views concerning eternal punishment. During one of the last
of Kennedy's visits to him, he found several young men with Lord Byron,
and among these M. S----, and M. F----. The former, seated at one corner
of the table, was explaining to Count Gamba certain views which were any
thing but orthodox. Lord Byron turned to the doctor, and said:--
"Have you heard what S---- said? I assure you, he has not made one step
toward conversion; he is worse than I am."
M. F---- having joined in the conversation, and said that there were
many contradictions in the Scriptures, Byron replied:--
"This is saying too much: I am a sufficiently good believer not to
discover any contradictions in the Scriptures which can not, upon
reflection, be explained; what most troubles me is eternal punishment: I
am not prepared to believe in so terrible a dogma, and this is my only
difference with the doctor's views; but he will not allow that I am an
orthodox Christian, unless I agree with him in that matter."
This was said half-seriously, half-jestingly, but in so amiable a
manner, and in a tone which was so free from mockery, that even the
austere doctor was fain to forgive him for entertaining such erroneous
views.
When Byron left for Missolonghi, he carried away with him a real regard
for Kennedy, notwithstanding their differences of opinion. Kennedy, on
the other hand, had conceived for Byron the greatest liking, and,
indeed, shows it in his book. His portrait of Lord Byron is so good,
that we have thought it right to reproduce it, together with his general
impressions in another chapter.
Byron's death plunged Kennedy into the deepest grief; and it was then
that he gathered all his conversations which he had had with Lord Byron
into one volume, which he published. But his friends, or so-called
friends, showed themselves hostile to the publication. Some feared that
he would exaggerate either Lord Byron's faith or want of it, and others,
less disinterested, apprehended the revelation of some of their own
views, which might fail to meet with the approval of the public at home.
When, therefore, Kennedy applied to several of these who were at
Missolonghi to know in what religious frame of mind Byron died, he met
with rebukes of all kinds, and his credit was attacked by articles in
newspapers, endeavoring to show that Byron had all along been laughing
at the doctor. All these attacks might have influenced Kennedy's picture
of Byron, but it will be seen that, with the exception of a few
puritanical touches, the artist's picture is not unworthy of the
original.
In the preface to his book, the doctor, not knowing whether he should
make use of the conversation he had had with Byron to give a greater
interest to his work, the object of which was to be of use to the
public, answers his own objections in the following words:--
"If my doing so would injure his character or fame, there could not be a
moment's hesitation in deciding on the baseness of the measure. But, as
far as I can judge, a true statement of what occurred will place his
lordship's character in a fairer light than he has himself done in many
of his writings, or than can, perhaps, be done by a friendly biographer.
The brightest parts of his life were those which he spent in Cephalonia
and Missolonghi, and the fact of his wishing to hear Christianity
explained by one, simply because he believed him to be sincere,
confessing that he derived no happiness from his unsettled notions on
religion, expressing a desire to be convinced, and his carrying with
him religious books, and promising to give the subject a more attentive
study than he had ever done, will throw a certain lustre over the darker
side of his fame, ... and deprive deists of the right of quoting him as
a cool, deliberate rejecter of Christianity."
To these very significant declarations, coming as they do from so
conscientious a believer as Kennedy, I shall add the testimony of a few
persons who have been conspicuous by their hostility to Byron. Mr. Galt
is one of these, and yet he says:--
"I am persuaded, nevertheless, that to class him among absolute infidels
were to do injustice to his memory, and that he has suffered
uncharitably in the opinion of the 'rigidly righteous,' who, because he
had not attached himself to any particular sect or congregation, assumed
that he was an adversary to religion. To claim for him any credit as a
pious man would be absurd; but, to suppose he had not as deep an
interest as other men 'in his soul's health and welfare,' was to impute
to him a nature which can not exist."
And elsewhere, after showing, first, what Byron did not believe in;
secondly, what he would have liked to believe, but which had not
sufficient grounds to satisfy his reason; thirdly, what he did actually
believe, Mr. Galt adds:--
"Whatever was the degree of Lord Byron's dubiety as to points of faith
and doctrine, he could not be accused of gross ignorance, nor described
as animated by any hostile feeling against religion."
The same biographer says elsewhere:--
"That Byron was deeply imbued with the essence of natural piety; that he
often felt the power and being of a God thrilling in all his frame, and
glowing in his bosom, I declare my thorough persuasion; and that he
believed in some of the tenets and in the philosophy of Christianity, as
they influence the spirit and conduct of men, I am as little disposed to
doubt; especially if those portions of his works which only trench upon
the subject, and which bear the impression of fervor and earnestness,
may be admitted as evidence. But he was not a member of any particular
church."
Medwin, who might be considered to be an authority, before his vanity
was wounded by the publication of writings wherein his good faith was
questioned, and it was shown that Lord Byron had no great esteem for his
talents, says,--
"It is difficult to judge, from the contradictory nature of his
writings, what the religious opinions of Lord Byron were. But on the
whole, if he were occasionally skeptical, yet his wavering never
amounted to a disbelief in the divine Founder of Christianity. 'I always
took great delight,' observed he, 'in the English Cathedral service. It
can not fail to inspire every man who feels at all, with devotion.
Notwithstanding which, Christianity is not the best source of
inspiration for a poet. No poet should be tied down to a direct
profession of faith. Metaphysics open a vast field. Nature and
heterodoxy present to the poet's imagination fertile sources from which
Christianity forbids him to draw;' and he exemplified his meaning by a
review of the works of Tasso and Milton.
"'Here is a little book somebody has sent me about Christianity," he
said to Shelley and me, 'that has made me very uncomfortable. The
reasoning seems to me very strong, the proofs are very staggering. I
don't think you can answer it, Shelley; at least, I am sure I can't,
and, what is more, I don't wish to do so.'"
Speaking of Gibbon, he says,--"L---- B---- thought the question set at
rest in the 'History of the Decline and Fall,' but I am not so easily
convinced. It is not a matter of volition to unbelieve. Who likes to own
that he has been a fool all his life,--to unlearn all that he has been
taught in his youth? Or can think that some of the best men that ever
lived have been fools?" And again,--
"You believe in Plato's three principles, why not in the Trinity? One is
not more mystical than the other. I don't know why I am considered an
enemy to religion, and an unbeliever. I disowned the other day that I
was of Shelley's school in metaphysics, though I admired his poetry."
"Although," says Lord Harrington, "Byron was no Christian, he was a firm
believer in the existence of a God. It is, therefore, equally remote
from truth to represent him as either an atheist or a Christian. He was,
as he has often told me, a confirmed Deist." Further on, the same
writer adds:--
"Byron always maintained that he was a skeptic, but he was not so at
all. During a ride at Cephalonia, which lasted two or three hours almost
without a pause, he began to talk about 'Cain' and his religious
opinions, and he condemned all atheists, and maintained the principles
of Deism." Mr. Finlay, who used to see Lord Byron in Greece, says, in a
letter to his friend Lord Harrington:--
"Lord Byron liked exceedingly to converse upon religious topics, but I
never once heard him openly profess to be a Deist."
These quotations are sufficiently numerous, and all point to the same
conclusion, but I must quote the words of Gamba before I conclude this
subject. He was, as it is known, the great friend of Byron, and alas!
sacrificed his noble self, at the age of twenty-four, to the cause of
Greece. To Kennedy's inquiries respecting Lord Byron's religious
tendencies at Missolonghi, P. Gamba replied as follows:--
"My belief is that his religious opinions were not fixed. I mean, that
he was not more inclined toward one than toward another of the Christian
sects; but that his feelings were thoroughly religious, and that he
entertained the highest respect for the doctrines of Christ, which he
considered to be the source of virtue and of goodness. As for the
incomprehensible mysteries of religion, his mind floated in doubts which
he wished most earnestly to dispel, as they oppressed him, and that is
why he never avoided a conversation on the subject, as you are well
aware.
"I have often had an opportunity of observing him at times when the soul
involuntarily expresses its most sincere convictions; in the midst of
dangers, both at sea and on land; in the quiet contemplation of a calm
and beautiful night, in the deepest solitude, etc.; and I remarked that
his thoughts always were imbued with a religious sentiment. The first
time I ever had a conversation with him on that subject was at Ravenna,
my native place, a little more than four years ago. We were riding
together in a pine wood, on a beautiful spring day, and all was
conducive to religious meditation. 'How,' said he 'raising our eyes to
heaven, or directing them to the earth, can we doubt of the existence
of God? Or how, turning them inward, can we doubt that there is
something within us more noble and more durable than the clay of which
we are formed? Those who do not hear, or are unwilling to listen to
those feelings, must necessarily be of a vile nature.' I answered him
with all those reasons which the superficial philosophy of Helvetius,
his disciples and his masters, have taught. He replied with very strong
arguments and profound eloquence, and I perceived that obstinate
contradiction on this subject, forcing him to reason upon it, gave him
pain. This discourse made a deep impression on me.
"Many times, and in various circumstances, I have heard him confirm the
same sentiments, and he always seemed to me to be deeply convinced of
their truth. Last year, at Genoa, when we were preparing for our journey
to Greece, he used to converse with me alone for two or three hours
every evening, seated on the terrace of his palace in Albano, in the
fine evenings of spring, whence there opened a magnificent view of that
superb city and the adjoining sea. Our conversation turned almost always
on Greece, for which we were so soon to depart, or on religious
subjects. In various ways I heard him confirm the sentiments which I
have already mentioned to you. 'Why, then,' said I to him, 'have you
earned for yourself the name of impious, and enemy of all religious
belief, from your writings?' He answered, 'They are not understood, and
are wrongly interpreted by the malevolent. My object is only to combat
hypocrisy, which I abhor in every thing, and particularly in religion,
and which now unfortunately appears to me to be prevalent, ... and for
this alone do those to whom you allude wish to render me odious, and
make me out to be an impious person, and a monster of incredulity.'
"For the Bible he had always a particular respect. It was his custom to
have it always on his study table, particularly during these last
months; and you well know how familiar it was to him, since he sometimes
knew how to correct your inaccurate citations.
"Fletcher may have informed you about his happy state of mind in his
last moments. He often repeated subjects from the Testament, and when,
in his last moments, he had in vain attempted to make known his wishes
with respect to his daughter, and others most dear to him in life, and
when, on account of the wanderings of his mind, he could not succeed in
making himself understood, Fletcher answered him, 'Nothing is nearer my
heart than to execute your wishes; but, unfortunately, I have scarcely
been able to comprehend half of them.' 'Is it possible?' he replied.
'Alas! it is too late. How unfortunate! Not my will, but the will of God
be done.' There remained to him only a few intervals of reason and
interruptions of delirium, the effect of determination of blood to the
head.
"He often expressed to me the contempt which he felt for those called
_esprits forts_ (a set of ignorant egotists, incapable of any generous
action, and hypocrites themselves), in their affected contempt of every
faith.
"He professed a complete toleration, and a particular respect for every
sincere conviction. He would have deemed it an unpardonable crime to
detach any one persuaded of the truth from his belief, although it might
be tinctured with absurdity, because he believed it could lead to no
other end than to render him an infidel."
After so many proofs of Byron's religious tendencies, is it not right to
ask, What was that skepticism of which so much has been said that it has
been almost received as a fact by the world generally? Did he not
believe in the necessity of religion? In a God, Creator of all things?
In the spirituality, and therefore immortality, of the soul? In our
liberty of action, and our moral responsibility? We have seen what
others have said on each of these subjects; let us now see what he said
himself upon the subject. But some will object, "Are you going to judge
of his views from his poetry? Can one attach much importance to opinions
expressed in verse? Do not poets often say that which they do not think,
but which genius inspires them to write? Are such dictates to be
considered as their own views?" Such objections may be valid, and we
shall so far respect them, therefore, as to dismiss Lord Byron's poetry,
and treat only of that which he has written in prose: we will not
consider him when under the influence of inspiration and of genius, but
when given up entirely to the silent examination of his conscience. What
did his thorough good sense tell him about religion in general? The
following note, in which he repels the stupid and wicked attacks of
Southey, who called him a skeptic, will prove it:--
"One mode of worship yields to another, but there never will be a
country without a worship of some sort. Some will instance France; but
the Parisians alone, and a fanatical faction of them, maintained for a
short time the absurd dogma of theophilanthropy. If the English Church
is upset, it will be by the hands of its own sectaries, not by those of
skeptics. People are too wise, too well informed, to submit to an
impious unbelief. There may exist a few speculators without faith; but
they are small in numbers, and their opinions, being without enthusiasm
or appeal to the passions, can not make proselytes unless they are
persecuted, that being the only means of augmenting any sects."
"'I am always,' he writes in his memorandum, 'most religious upon a
sunshiny day, as if there were some association, some internal approach
to greater light and purity and the kindler of this dark lantern of our
existence.
"'The night had also a religious influence, and even more so when I
viewed the moon and stars through Herschel's telescope, and saw that
they were worlds.'"
And what thought Byron of the existence of God? "Supposing even," he
says, "that man existed before God, even his higher pre-Adamite
supposititious creation must have had an origin and a creator, for a
creation is a more natural imagination than a fortuitous concourse of
atoms; all things remount to a fountain, though they may flow to an
ocean.
"If, according to some speculations, you could prove the world many
thousand years older than the Mosaic chronology, or if you could get rid
of Adam and Eve, and the apple, and serpent, still what is to be set up
in their stead? or how is the difficulty removed? Things must have had a
beginning, and what matters it when or how?"
If Byron did not question the existence of God, did he doubt the
spirituality and immortality of the soul? Here are some of his
answers:--
"What is poetry?" he asked himself in his memorandum, and he
replied--"The feeling of a former world and future." And further, in the
same memorandum:--
"Of the immortality of the soul, it appears to me that there can be
little doubt, if we attend to the action of the mind for a moment: it is
in perpetual activity. I used to doubt it, but reflection has taught me
better. The stoics Epictetus and Aurelius call the present state 'a soul
which draws a carcass'--a heavy chain, to be sure, but all chains, being
material, may be shaken off. How far our future life will be individual,
or, rather, how far it will at all resemble our present existence, is
another question; but that the mind is eternal, seems as probable as
that the body is not so. Of course, I here venture upon the question
without recurring to revelation, which, however, is at least as rational
a solution of it as any other. A material resurrection seems strange and
even absurd, except for purposes of punishment: and all punishment which
is to revenge, rather than correct, must be morally wrong: and when the
world is at an end, what moral or warning purpose can eternal tortures
answer? Human passions have probably disfigured the Divine doctrines
here; but the whole thing is inscrutable."
And again:--
"I have often been inclined to materialism in philosophy; but could
never bear its introduction into Christianity, which appears to me
essentially founded upon the soul. For this reason, Priestley's
'Christian Materialism' always struck me as deadly. Believe the
resurrection of the body, if you will, but not without a soul. The deuce
is in it, if after having had a soul (as, surely, the mind, or whatever
you call it, is) in this world, we must part with it in the next, even
for an immortal materiality; and I own my partiality for spirit."
It has already been seen that, in his early youth, he was intimately
convinced of the immortality of his soul, by the fact of the existence
of his conscience. But it is equally proved that, as his soul became
more perfect, and rose more and more toward all that is great and
virtuous, his conviction of the immortality of the soul became still
more certain.
The beautiful words which he addressed to Mr. Parry, a few hours before
his agony, confirm our assertions:--
"Eternity and space are before me; but on this subject, thank God, I am
happy and at ease. The thought of living eternally, of again reviving,
is a great pleasure. Christianity is the purest and most liberal
religion in the world; but the numerous teachers who are continually
worrying mankind with their denunciations and their doctrines, are the
greatest enemies of religion. I have read, with more attention than half
of them, the Book of Christianity, and I admire the liberal and truly
charitable principles which Christ has laid down. There are questions
connected with this subject, which none but Almighty God can solve. Time
and space, who can conceive? None but God: on Him I rely."
If he neither questioned the existence of God nor the spirituality and
immortality of the soul, did he question our liberty of thought, and
hence our moral responsibility?
To put such a question, is to misunderstand Byron completely. Who, more
than Byron, ever believed in our right of judgment, and proclaimed that
right more strenuously than he has, in prose and in verse? Let any one
who has read "Manfred," say whether a poet ever developed such Christian
and philosophical views with greater energy and power.
Did Lord Byron really question, in his poems, the infinite goodness of
God, as he has been accused of doing? Did his doubts and perplexities of
mind, caused by the terrible knowledge of the existence of evil, ever go
beyond the limits of the doubts which beset the minds of intellectual
men, when the light of faith fails to aid them in their philosophical
researches after truth?
When he published his drama, "Cain, a Mystery," he was attacked by
enemies in the most violent manner. They selected the arguments put into
the mouth of Lucifer, and their influence upon Cain, to prove that this
biblical poem was a blasphemous composition, and that its author was
consequently deserving of being outlawed, as having attempted to
question the supreme wisdom of God. But most certainly Lucifer speaks in
the poem as Lucifer should speak, unless, indeed, the Evil Spirit ought
to speak as a theologian, and the first assassin as a meek orthodox
Christian? Byron gave them each the language logically most suited to
their respective characters, as Milton did, without, however, incurring
the accusation of impiety. It was argued that Byron ought, at least, to
have introduced some one charged with the defense of the right
doctrines. But was not the drama entitled a Mystery, and was not the
title to be justified, as it were? Could he have done otherwise, even if
he had wished it ever so much? What could Adam, or even God's angel, do
better than remain silent in presence of the mental agony of Cain, and
only advise his bowing to the incomprehensibility of the mystery? Again,
if discussion was fruitful of results with Abel, must it be the same
with Cain? Was Lord Byron to turn both these personages into
theologians, ready to discuss any and every metaphysical question, and
to explain the origin and effects of evil? Had they done so, it is not
very likely they would have succeeded in persuading Cain of the solidity
of their argument, or in dispelling the clouds which obscured his mind,
and both calm his despair and satisfy so inquisitive a nature,
influenced and mastered, as it was, by evil passions. If Lord Byron
thought he could explain the existence of evil, he would not have
entitled his poem "a Mystery." But, above all, Lord Byron did not wish
to outstep the limits of reason to prove still more how powerless is
reason, alone and unaided, in its endeavors to conciliate contradictory
attributes. The drama was called a Mystery, and Byron wished it to
remain such.
Were some of his biographers right in asserting that he had adopted
Cuvier's system? But Cuvier never denied the existence of the Creator,
as Moore seems to believe. On the contrary, he endeavored to show, even
more forcibly, the admirable work of the Creation, in order to bring out
still more in relief the perfection of its Creator.
In the end, however, Byron ceased to think the existence of evil to be
so great an injustice to the infinite goodness of God, and expressed in
his memorandum the opinion "that history and experience show that good
and evil are counterbalanced on earth."
"Were I to begin life again," he said, in the same memorandum, "I don't
think I would change any thing in mine." A proof that, without
understanding why or wherefore, he felt our life on earth to be but the
beginning of one which is to be continued in another sphere, under the
rule of Him whose gentle hand can be traced in all things created. For
the same reason he was reconciled to the injustice of mankind, believing
this life to be a trial, and bearing it with noble courage and
fortitude. This mental resignation, however, did not prevent his
suffering bitterly in a moral sense. All pleasure became a pain to him
at the sight of the sufferings of others. He declared on one occasion,
at Cephalonia, that if every body was to be damned, and he alone to be
saved, he would prefer being damned with the rest. This excess of
generosity may have appeared eccentric, but can scarcely seem too
exaggerated to those who knew him. Certain it is, that to witness the
sufferings of others with resignation, appeared to him to be egotism,
and to evince a coldheartedness, which would have been unpardonable in
his eyes. Sometimes even the energy of his writings, dictated, as they
were, by his great generosity of heart, appeared as the revolt of a
noble nature against the miseries of humanity.
In such a frame of mind was he when he wrote "Cain," at Ravenna, in the
midst of people who were for the most part unjustly proscribed, and in
the midst of sufferings which he always tried to alleviate.
Did he deserve the appellation of skeptic, because he despised that vain
philosophy which believes it can explain all things, even God's nature
itself, by the sole force of reason? or because, while respecting the
dogmas proclaimed by our reason and our conscience, he preferred to
follow the principles of a philosophy that argues with diffidence, and
humbly owns its inability to explain all things, and which caused him to
exclaim in "Don Juan"--
"For me, I know naught; nothing I deny,
Admit, reject, contemn: and what know you,
Except, perhaps, that you were born to die?"
But to whom were these lines addressed? To those metaphysicians, of
course, whom he would also have denominated "men who know nothing, but
who, among the truths which they ignore, ignore their own ignorance
most,"--to those arrogant minds who wish to fathom even the ways which
God has kept back from us, and who, in seeking to know the wherefore of
all things in creation, are forced to give the name of explanation to
mere comparisons.
Byron says, in "Don Juan,"--
"Explain me your explanation."
He addressed himself finally, to all hypocrites and intolerant men;
Byron has been called a skeptic, notwithstanding.
That a sincere and orthodox Catholic, who holds that the negation of a
dogma constitutes skepticism, should have called Byron a skeptic because
he questioned the doctrine of eternal punishment, is not to be wondered
at; but what is matter of astonishment is, that the reproach was
addressed to him by the writer of "Faust," and by the writer of
"Elvire," and the "Meditations." Yet it is so; and if this psychological
problem is not yet solved, let others do it,--we can not.
To sum up, we may declare, from what we have said, that as regards Lord
Byron there has been a confusion of words, and that his skepticism has
merely been a natural and inevitable situation in which certain minds
who, as it were, are the victims of their own contradictory thoughts,
are placed, notwithstanding their wish to believe. Faith, being a part
of poetical feeling, could not but form a part likewise of Byron's
nature, but there existed also in him a great tendency to weigh the
merits of the opinions of others, and consequently the desire not to
arrive too hastily at conclusions.
This combination of instinctive faith and a philosophical mind could not
produce in him the belief in those things which did not appear to him to
have been first submitted to the test of argument, and proved to be just
by the convictions resulting from the test of reasoning to which they
had been subjected. It produced, on the contrary, a species of expectant
doubt, a state of mind awaiting some decisive explanation, to reject
error and embrace the truth. His skepticism, therefore, may be said to
have been the result of thought, not of passion.
In religion, however, it must be allowed that his skepticism never went
so far as to cause him to deny its fundamental doctrines. These he
proclaimed from heartfelt convictions, and his modest, humble, and manly
skepticism may be said to have been that of great minds, and his
failings, also, theirs. Is a day said to be stormy because a few clouds
have obscured the rays of the sun?
Is it necessary to say any thing about what he doubted? In showing what
he believed, the exception will be found unnecessary. He believed in a
Creator, in a spiritual and consequently immortal soul, but which God
can reduce to nothing, as He created it out of nothing. He believed in
liberty of thought, in our responsibility, our privileges, our duties,
and especially in the obligation of practicing the great precept which
constitutes Christianity; namely, that of charity and devotion toward
our neighbor, even to the sacrifice of our existence for his sake. He
believed in every virtue, but his experience forbade his according faith
to appearances, and trusting in fine phrases. He often found it wise and
prudent to scrutinize the idol he was called upon to worship, but when
once that idol had borne the test of scrutiny no worship was so sincere.
"Was he orthodox?" will again be asked. To such a question it may be
justly answered, that if he did not entertain for all the doctrines
revealed by the Scriptures that faith which he was called upon to
possess, it was not for want of desiring so powerful an auxiliary to his
reason. He felt that, however strong reason might be, it always retains
a little wavering and anxious character; and, though essentially
religious at heart, he could not master that blind faith required in
matters which baffle the efforts of reason to prove their truth
logically and definitively. This is to be accounted for by the conflict
of his conscience and his philosophical turn of mind. Conviction, for
him, was a difficult thing to attain. Hence for him the difficulty of
saying "I believe," and hence the accusation of skepticism to which he
became liable. He wanted proofs of a decisive character, and his doubts
belonged to that school which made Bacon confess that a philosopher who
can doubt, knows more than all the wise men together. Byron would never
have contested absolutely the truth of any mystery, but have merely
stated that, as long as the testimonies of its truth were hidden in
obscurity, such a mystery must be liable to be questioned. He was wont
to add, however, that the mysteries of religion did not appear to him
less comprehensible than those of science and of reason.
As for miracles, how could he think them absurd and impossible, since he
admitted the omnipotence of God? His mind was far too just not to
understand that miracles surround us, even from the first origin of our
race. He often asked himself, whether the first man could ever have been
created a child? "Reason," says a great Christian philosopher, "does not
require the aid of the Book of Genesis to believe in that miracle."
One evening at Pisa, in the drawing-room of the Countess G----, where
Byron was wont to spend all his evenings, a great discussion arose
respecting a certain miracle which was said to have taken place at
Lucca.
The miracle had been accompanied by several rather ludicrous
circumstances, and of course laughter was not spared. Shelley, who never
lost sight of his philosopher, treated miracles as deplorable
superstitions. Lord Byron laughed at the absurdity of the history told,
without any malice however. Madame G---- alone did not laugh. "Do you,
then, believe in that miracle?" asked Byron. "I do not say I exactly
believe in that miracle," she replied; "but I believe in miracles, since
I believe in God and in His omnipotence; nor could I believe that God
can be deprived of His liberty, when I feel that I have mine. Were I no
longer to believe in miracles, it seems to me I should no longer believe
in God, and that I should lose my faith."
Lord Byron stopped joking, and said--
"Well, after all, the philosophy of common sense is the truest and the
best."
The conversation continued, in the jesting tone in which it had begun,
and M. M----, an _esprit fort_, went so far as to condemn the
supernatural in the name of the general and permanent laws which govern
nature, and to look upon miracles as the legends of a by-gone age, and
as errors which affect the ignorant. From what had gone before, he
probably fancied that Byron was going to join issue with him. But there
was often a wide gulf between the intimate thoughts of Byron and his
expressions of them.
"We allow ourselves too often," he said, "to give way to a jocular mood,
and to laugh at everything, probably because God has granted us this
faculty to compensate for the difficulty which we find in believing, in
the same manner as playthings are given to children. But I really do not
see why God should be obliged to preserve in the universe the same
order which He once established. To whom did He promise that He would
never change it, either wholly or in part? Who knows whether some day He
will not give the moon an oval or a square shape instead of a round
one?"
This he said smiling, but added immediately after, in a serious tone:--
"Those who believe in a God, Creator of the universe, can not refuse
their belief in the possibility of miracles, for they behold in God the
first of all miracles."
Finally, Lord Byron determined himself the limits of what he deemed his
necessary belief; and remained throughout life a stanch supporter of
those opinions, but he never ceased to evince a tendency to steer clear
of intolerance, which according to him only brought one back to total
unbelief.
Let us not omit to add that, as he grew older, he saw better the
arrogant weakness of those who screen themselves under the cover of
science, and recognized more clearly each day the hand of the Creator in
the works of nature.
"Did Lord Byron pray?" is another objection which will be made.
We have already seen what he thought of prayer; we have shown that his
poems often took the form of a prayer, and we have read with admiration
various passages containing some most sublime lines which completely
answer those who accused him of want of religion, while they exhibit the
expansion of his soul toward God.
We also know with what feelings of respect he approached places devoted
to a religious life, and what charms he found in the ceremonies of the
Church. All this is proof enough, it would seem; but, in any case, we
must add that if his prayers were not those advised by Kennedy, they
were at least the prayers of a great soul which soars upward to bow
before its Creator. "Outward ceremonies," says Fenelon, "are only tokens
of that essential point, the religion of the soul, and Byron's prayer
was rather a thanksgiving than a request."--"In the eyes of God," says
some one, "a good action is worth more than a prayer."
Such was his mode of communing with God even in his early youth, but
especially in his last moments, which were so sublime. Can one doubt,
that at that solemn moment his greatest desire was to be allowed to
live? He had still to reap all the fruits of his sacrifices. His harvest
was only just beginning to ripen. By dint of heroism, he was at last
becoming known. He was young, scarcely thirty-six years of age,
handsome, rich. Rank and genius were his. He was beloved by many,
notwithstanding a host of jealous rivals; and yet, on the point of
losing all these advantages, what was his prayer? Was it egotistical or
presumptuous? was it to solicit a miracle in his favor? No, his last
words were those of noble resignation. "Let Thy holy will, my God, be
done, and not mine!" and then absorbed, as it were, in the infinity of
God's goodness, and, confiding entirely in God's mercy, he begged that
he might be left alone to sleep quietly and peacefully into eternity. On
the very day which brought to us the hope of our immortality, he would
awake in the bosom of God.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 17: Sympathy.]
[Footnote 18: The Rev. Mr. Hodgson and the Rev. Mr. Harness.]
[Footnote 19: Article on his Life in Italy and at Pisa.]