THE VIRTUES OF HIS SOUL.
HIS GENEROSITY A VIRTUE.
All that we have hitherto said, proves that Lord Byron's generosity has
never been disputed; but the generosity usually attributed to him was an
innate quality, the impulse of a good heart, naturally inclined to
bestow benefits.
Certainly, to distribute among the poor our superfluities, and very
often more than that, to borrow rather than suffer the unfortunate to
wait for assistance; to subtract from our pleasures, and even to bear
privations, the better to help all the afflicted, without distinction of
opinion, age, or sex; to measure the kindness done rather by their
wants, than our own resources, and to do all that, without ostentation,
habitually, in secret and unknown, with God and our conscience for sole
witnesses: certainly, all that is full of moral beauty; and we know on
what a large scale Lord Byron practiced it all his life. We have seen
him in childhood, of which we should vainly seek one more amiable and
more admirable, wish to take upon himself the punishments destined for
his comrades; rescue their hall from the senseless fury of his
school-fellows, by showing them the dear names of their parents written
on the walls; desire to expose himself to death, to save a comrade, who
had two parents to regret his loss, while he himself had only one; and
send his good nurse the first watch of which he became possessed,--and
we know what a treasure the first watch is to a child. We have followed
him later, a youth at college, at the university, and at Newstead, in
his devoted passionate affections; a young man on his travels, and in
the midst of the great world, and we have seen his compassion for every
kind of misfortune, and his mode of assuaging them.
When we perceive, despite the ardor and mobility of his heart, where so
many contrary elements combined, contradicted, jarred against, or
succeeded each other, that there never was a single instant in his life
when generosity did not reign supreme over every impulse and
consideration, not only are we compelled to pronounce him generous, but
we are likewise forced to acknowledge that generosity, with a passion
for truth, divided the empire of his soul, and formed the two principal
features of his character. But if his generosity had ended in only
satisfying the fine tendencies of his nature, would it have acquired the
right to be called virtuous? We do not think so. For generosity, to
merit that sacred epithet, must express sentiments rarer and more
elevated, arrive at the highest triumph of moral strength, at the
greatest self-abnegation; it must succeed in overcoming appetite, in
forgetting the most just resentments, in returning good for evil. Then,
alone, can generosity attain that sublime degree which entitles it to be
called a virtue.
Did Lord Byron's generosity reach this great moral height? Let us
examine facts; they alone can answer.
If a young man lends assistance to a young and beautiful girl, without
any interested motive, and with exquisite delicacy, he certainly gives
proof that he possesses delicacy of soul. His merit becomes much greater
if he acts thus solely to save her honor. But if the young girl, full of
gratitude, falls deeply in love with her benefactor; if, unable to hide
the impression produced on her heart by his presence and his generosity,
she makes him understand that her gratitude would have no limits; and if
he, at the age when passion is all awake, though touched by the
sentiments this charming person has conceived, nevertheless shuts his
senses against all temptations, does not the greatness of his soul then
become admirable? Well, this was fully realized in Lord Byron. And not
only in a single instance; but often during his life. For, if
temptations were numerous, so were victories also. We will only quote
one example, with sufficient details to make it justly appreciated.
Miss S----, who had been bred in ease, but who, with her family, had
been reduced, through a series of misfortunes, to absolute want, found
herself exposed to the greatest evil that can menace a portionless girl.
Her mother, whose temper had been soured by reverses which had likewise
quite overthrown her sense of morality, had become one of those women
who consider poverty the worst of all evils. Unscrupulous as to the
means of putting an end to it, she did not think it necessary to fortify
her daughter's mind by good counsels. Happily the young girl had lofty
sentiments and natural dignity. Secure from vulgar seduction, and guided
by wholesome steady principles, she desired to depend only on her
talents for gaining a livelihood, and for assisting her parents. Having
written a small volume of poetry, she had already got subscriptions from
persons of high position; but her great desire was to obtain Lord
Byron's name.
An impulse, often recurring, induced her to apply to the young nobleman,
who was then still unmarried. She only knew him through his works, and
by report, which already associated with admiration for his talents a
thousand calumnies concerning his moral character. The skeptical stanzas
of "Childe Harold" still troubled orthodox repose; the lines on the
tears of the Princess Royal irritated the Tories, and his last success
with the "Corsair," added to those he had already gained, further
embittered his jealous rivals. Thus calumnies made up from these
different elements besieged the poet's house, so as to prevent truth
concerning the man from being known. Even in her family, Miss S----
found hostility against him; for her mother, who called herself a Tory,
only discovered moral delicacy when she wished to show her repugnance
for the Whig party, to which Lord Byron belonged. Miss S----, in a
moment of extreme anguish and pressing embarrassment, resolved upon
applying to the young nobleman. He received her with respect and
consideration, and soon perceived how intimidated she was by the rather
bold step she had taken, and also by the cause that prompted it. Lord
Byron reassured her, by treating her with peculiar kindness, as he
questioned her respecting her circumstances. When she had related the
sad reasons that determined her to ask him for a subscription, Lord
Byron rang for his valet, and ordered a desk to be brought to him. Then,
with that delicacy of heart which formed such a remarkable trait in his
character, he wrote down, while still conversing, a few words, which he
wrapped up in an envelope, and gave to the young lady. She soon after
withdrew, thinking she had obtained the coveted subscription.
When fairly out, all she had seen and heard appeared to her like a
dream. The door which had just closed behind her seemed the gate of
Eden, opening on a land of exile. Nevertheless, she was to see him
again. He had consented to receive her volume. Lord Byron was not for
her the angel with the flaming sword, but rather an angel of gentleness,
mercy, and love. Never had she seen or imagined such a combination of
enchantments; never had she seen so much beauty, nor heard such a voice;
never had such a sweet expressive glance met hers. "No;" she repeated to
herself, "he is not a man, but some celestial being. _Oh, mamma, Lord
Byron is an angel!_" were the first words that escaped her on returning
home. The envelope was opened; and a new surprise awaited them. Together
with his subscription, she found, wrapped up, fifty pounds. That sum
was, indeed, a treasure for her. She fell on her knees with all her
family; even her mother forgot for the moment that it was Whig money to
which they owed their deliverance, and seemed almost to agree with her
eldest daughter, whose enthusiasm communicated itself to the younger
one, who never wearied in questioning her sister about Lord Byron's
perfections, until the night was far spent.
But if the family was thus relieved, if the young girl's honor was safe,
her peace of mind was gone. The contempt and dislike she already felt
for several men who were hovering about her with alarming offers of
protection, were now further increased by the comparison she was enabled
to make between their vulgar and low, basely hypocritical or openly
licentious natures, and that of the noble being she had just seen.
Thenceforth Byron's dazzling image never left her mind. It remained
fixed there during the day, to reappear at night in her dreams and
visions. Such a hold had it gained over her entire being, that Miss
S---- seemed from that hour to live heart and soul only in the hope of
seeing him again.
When she returned to take him her book, she found that she had to add to
all the other charms of this superior being that respect which the
wisdom of mature age seems only able to inspire. For he not only spoke
to her of what might best suit her position, and disapproved some of her
mother's projects, as dangerous for her honor, but even refused to go
and see her as she requested; nor would he give her a letter of
introduction to the Duke of Devonshire, simply, because a handsome girl
could not be introduced by a young man without having her reputation
compromised.
The more Miss S---- saw of Lord Byron, the more intense her passion for
him became. It seemed to her that all to which heart could aspire, all
of happiness that heaven could give here below, must be found in the
love of such a pre-eminent being. Lord Byron soon perceived the danger
of these visits. Miss S---- was beautiful, witty, and charming; Lord
Byron was twenty-six years of age. How many young men, in a similar
case, would not without a scruple have thought that he had only to cull
this flower which seemed voluntarily to tempt him? Lord Byron never
entertained such an idea. Innocent of all intentional seduction, unable
to render her happy, even if he could have returned her sentiments,
instead of being proud of having inspired them, he was distressed at
having done so. He did not wish to prove the source of new misfortunes
to this young girl, already so tried by fate, and without guide or
counsellor. So he resolved to use all his efforts toward restoring her
peace. It would be too long to tell the delicate mode he used to attain
this end, the generous stratagems he employed to heal this poor wounded
heart. He went so far as to try to appear less amiable. For the sake of
destroying any hope, he assumed a cold, stern, troubled air; but on
perceiving that he had only aggravated the evil, his kindliness of heart
could resist no longer, and he hit on other expedients. Finally he
succeeded in making her comprehend the necessity of putting an end to
her visits. She left his house, having ever been treated with respect,
the innocence of their mutual intercourse unstained; and the young man's
sacrifice only permitted one kiss imprinted on the lovely brow of her
whose strong feelings for himself he well knew.
What this victory, gained by his will and his sentiment as a man of
honor over his senses and his heart, cost Lord Byron, has remained his
own secret. But those who will imagine themselves in similar
circumstances at the age of twenty-six, may conceive it. As to Miss
S----, the excess of her emotions made her ill; and she long hung
between life and death. Nevertheless, the strength of youth prevailed,
and ended by giving her back physical health. But was her mind equally
cured? The only light that had brightened her path had gone out, and,
plunged in darkness, how did she pursue her course through life? Was her
heart henceforth closed to every affection? Or did she chain it down to
the fulfillment of some austere duty, that stood her in lieu of
happiness? Or, as it sometimes happens to stricken hearts, did a color,
a sound, a breeze, one feature in a face, call up hallucinations, give
her vain longings, make her build fresh hopes and prepare for her new
deceptions? Proof against all meannesses, but young and most unhappy,
was she always able to resist the promptings of a warm, feeling,
grateful heart? We are ignorant of all this. We only know of her, that
never again in her long career did she meet united in one man that
profusion of gifts, physical, intellectual, and moral, that made Lord
Byron seem like a being above humanity. She tells it to us herself, in
letters written at the distance that separates 1814 from 1864, lately
published in French, preceding and accompanying a narrative composed in
her own language, in which she has related her impressions of Lord
Byron, and given the details of all that took place between her and him.
It was a duty, she says, that remained for her to accomplish here below.
Her narrative and these letters are charming from their simplicity and
naivete; what she says bears the stamp of plain truth, her admiration
has nothing high-flown in it, and her style is never wanting in the
sobriety which ought always to accompany truth, in order to make it
penetrate into other minds.
We would fain transcribe these pages, that evidently flow from an
elevated and sincerely grateful heart. For they reflect great honor on
Lord Byron, since, in showing the strength of the impression made on the
young girl, they bring out more fully all the self-denial he must have
exercised in regard to her; likewise, because, in her letters, this
lady, after so long an experience of life, never ceases proclaiming Lord
Byron the handsomest, the most generous, and the best of men she ever
knew. But though it is impossible for me to reproduce all she says,
still I feel it necessary to quote some passages from her book. In the
first letter addressed to Mrs. B----, she says:--
"At the moment of the separation between Lord Byron and that woman who
caused the misery of his life, I was not in London; and I was so ill,
that I could neither go to see him nor write as I wished. For he had
shown me so much goodness and generosity that my heart was bursting with
gratitude and sorrow; and never have I had any means of expressing
either to him, except through my little offering.[87] Even now my heart
is breaking at the thought of the injustice with which he has been
treated.
"His friend Moore, to whom he had confided his memoirs, written with his
own hand, had not the courage to fulfill faithfully the desire of his
generous friend. Lady Blessington made a book upon him very profitable
_to herself_, but in which she does not always paint Lord Byron _en
beau_, and where she has related a thousand things that Lord Byron only
meant in joke, and which ought not to have been either written or
published. And when it is remembered that this lady (as I am assured)
never saw or conversed with Lord Byron but out of doors, when she
happened to meet him on horseback, and very rarely (two or three times)
when he consented to dine at her house, in both of these cases, in too
numerous a company for the conversation to be of an intimate nature;
when it is known (as I am further assured) that Lord Byron was so much
on his guard with this lady (aware of her being an authoress), that he
never accepted an invitation to dine with her, unless when his friend
Count Gamba did: truly, we may then conclude that these conversations
were materially impossible, and must have been a clever
mystification,--a composition got up on the biographies of Lord Byron
that had already appeared, on Moore's works, Medwin's, Lord Byron's
correspondence, and, above all, on "Don Juan." She must have made her
choice, without any regard to truth or to Lord Byron's honor; rather
selecting such facts, expressions, and observations as allowed her to
assume the part of a moral, sensitive woman, to sermonize, by way of
gaining favor with the strict set of people in high society, and to be
able to bring out her own opinions on a number of things and persons,
without fear of compromising herself, since she put them into Lord
Byron's mouth.
"Verily these conversations can not be explained in any other way. At
any rate, I confess this production of her ladyship so displeased me
that I threw it aside, unable to read it without ill-humor and disgust.
At that time (1814) he was not married; and I beheld in him a young man
of the rarest beauty. Superior intellect shone in his countenance; his
manners were at once full of simplicity and dignity; his voice was
sweet, rich, and melodious. If Lord Byron had defects (and who has not?)
he also possessed very great virtues, with a dignity and sincerity of
character seldom to be found. The more I have known the world, the more
have I rendered homage to Lord Byron's memory."
Miss S---- wrote thus to a person with whom she was not acquainted; but,
encouraged by the answer she received, she dispatched a second letter,
opening her heart still further, and sending some details of her
intercourse with Lord Byron,--what she had seen and known of him.
"Ah! madam," she exclaims, "if you knew the happiness, the consolation I
feel in writing to you, knowing that all I say of him will be well
received, and that you believe all these details so creditable to him!"
In the same letter, she declares "that when he was exposed to the
attacks of jealousy and a thousand calumnies spread against him, he
always said, 'Do not defend me.'
"But, madam, how can we be silent when we hear such infamous things said
against one so incapable of them? I have always said frankly what I
thought of him, and defended him in such a way as to carry conviction
into the minds of those who heard me. But a combat between one person
and many is not equal, and I have several times been ill with vexation.
Never mind; what I can do, I will."
She announced her intention of communicating the whole history of her
acquaintance with Lord Byron.
"I am about to commence, madam, the account of my acquaintance with our
great and noble poet. I shall write all concerning him in English,
because I can thus make use of his own words, which are graven in my
heart, as well as all the circumstances relating to him. I will give you
these details, madam, in all their simplicity; but their value consists
less in the words he made use of, than in the manner accompanying them,
in the sweetness of his voice, his delicacy and politeness at the moment
when he was granting a favor, rendering me such a great service. Oh!
yes, he was really good and generous; never, in all my long years, have
I seen a man _worthy to be compared to him_."
She wrote again on the 10th of November, 1864:--
"Here, madam, are the details I promised you about my first interview
with Lord Byron. I give them to you in all their simplicity. I make no
attempt at style; but simply tell unvarnished truth; for, with regard to
Lord Byron, I consider truth the most important thing,--his name is the
greatest ornament of the page whereon it is inscribed. I will also send
you, madam, if you desire, my second and third interview with this
noble, admirable man, who was so _misjudged_. To write this history is a
great happiness for me; since I know that, in so doing, I render him
that justice so often denied him by the envious and the wicked.
"His conduct toward me was always so beautiful and noble, that I would
fain make it known to the whole world. I think they are beginning to
render him the justice that is his due; everywhere now he is
quoted--_Byron said this, Byron thought that_--that is what I hear
continually, and many persons who formerly spoke against him, now
testify in his favor.
"They say we ought not to speak evil of the dead; that is very well, but
as this maxim was not observed toward Lord Byron, I also will repeat
what I have heard said of his wife--I mean that the blame was hers--that
her temper was so bad, her manners so harsh and disagreeable, that no
one could endure her society; that she was avaricious, wicked, scolding;
that people hated to wait upon her or live near her. How dared this lady
to marry a man so distinguished, and then to treat him ill and
tyrannically? Truly it is inconceivable. If she were charitable for the
poor (as some one has pretended), she certainly wanted Christian
charity. And I also am wanting in it perhaps; but, when I think of her,
I lose all patience."
On announcing to Mrs. B---- the sequel of her narrative, she says:--
"It contains the history of the two days that passed after my first
interview with him whom I ever found the _noblest and most generous_ of
men, whose memory lives in my heart like a brilliant star amid the dark
and gloomy clouds that have often surrounded me in life; it is the
single ray of sunshine illumining my remembrances of the past."
Miss S---- had not forgotten a look, a word, not even the material
external part of things; and when Mrs. B---- expressed her astonishment
at this lively recollection,--
"All that concerned Lord Byron," said she, "has been retained by my
heart. I recall his words, gestures, looks, now, as if it had all taken
place yesterday. I believe this is owing to his great and beautiful
qualities, such a rare assemblage of which I never saw in any other
human being.
"There was so much truth in all he said, so much simplicity in all he
did, that every thing became indelibly engraven on heart and memory."
After having said that Lord Byron gave her the best counsels, and among
others that of living with her mother ("not knowing," she adds, "to what
it would expose me"), she continues:
"You say, madam, there is no cause for astonishment that I so admire and
respect Lord Byron. In all he said, or advised, there was so much right
reason, goodness and judgment far above his age, that one remained
enthralled."
On sending the conclusion of her history to Mrs. B----, she says:--
"You who knew Lord Byron, will not be surprised that I loved him so
much. But a woman does not pass through such a trial with impunity. On
returning home, I threw myself on my knees and tried to pray, imploring
Heaven for strength and patience. But the sound of his voice, his looks,
pierced to my very heart, my soul felt torn asunder; I could not even
weep. For two years and a half I was no longer myself. A man of high
position offered me his hand. He would have placed me in the first
society; but he wished for love, and I could only offer him friendship."
And, finally, when the reception of the concluding part of her narrative
was acknowledged, she further added:--
"I am very glad that the history of my heart appears to you a precious
document for proving the virtues of one whom I have ever looked upon as
the _first of men, as well for his qualities as for his genius_."
Her last letter ends exactly as did her first:--"_Ah! there never was
but one Lord Byron!_" In her narrative, which is quite as natural in
style as her letters, no detail of her interviews with Lord Byron has
escaped her memory.[88]
We have already seen how, in a moment of despair, the young girl, full
of confidence in Lord Byron, whom she considered as one of the noblest
characters that ever existed, thought she might go and ask his
protection. A fashionable young man, and still unmarried, the reports
current about him might well lead to the belief that his house was not
quite the temple of order. She was surprised on knocking timidly at his
door, on explaining to the _valet-de-chambre_ who opened it, her great
desire to speak to Lord Byron, to see Fletcher listen to her with a
civil, compassionate air, that predisposed her in favor of his master.
He conducted her into a small room, where all Lord Byron's servants were
assembled, and there also she was greatly surprised at the order and
simplicity in the establishment of the young lord.
"I never saw servants more polite and respectful," says she. "Fletcher
and the coachman remained standing, only the old house-keeper kept her
seat."
Miss S---- had dried her tears when admitted into Lord Byron's presence.
"Surprise and admiration," says she, "were the first emotions I
experienced on seeing him. He was only twenty-six years of age, but he
looked still younger. I had been told that he was gloomy, severe, and
often out of temper: _I saw, on the contrary, a most attractive
physiognomy, wearing a look of charming sweetness._"
Miss S---- soon found cause to appreciate Lord Byron's delicacy. She
began by excusing herself for having come to him, saying she had taken
this step in consequence of family misfortunes. She remained standing.
After some moments of silence, during which Lord Byron appeared to
interrogate memory, he said:--
"Pray be seated; I will not hear another word until you are. You appear
to have an independent spirit, and this step must have cost you much."
Having already partly seen the results of this interview, we refrain
from giving further details here, although they are full of interest on
account of the goodness, generosity, and delicacy they reveal.
Miss S---- endeavored to draw his portrait, but the pencil dropped from
her hands:--
"I feel that unless I could portray his look, and repeat his words as
pronounced by him, I could not even do justice to his actions."
She does it, however in a few bold touches which, on account of their
truth, we have quoted in the chapter entitled _Portrait_ of Lord Byron.
After having said that it was impossible to see finer eyes, a more
beautiful expression of face, manners more graceful, hands more
exquisite, or to hear such a tone of voice, she adds:--
"All that formed such an assemblage of seductive qualities, that never
before or since have I remarked any man who could be compared to him.
What particularly struck me was the serene, gentle dignity of his
manner. Lady Blessington says, that she did not find in Lord Byron quite
the dignity she had expected; but surely, then, she does not understand
what dignity is? Indeed she did not understand Lord Byron at all. With
me he was unaffected, amiable, and natural. The hours passed in his
society I look upon as the brightest of my life, and even now I think of
them with an effusion of gratitude and admiration, rather increased than
diminished by time."
Lord Byron saw directly that Miss S---- had a noble nature. It must have
been such; it must even have been, so to say, _incorruptible_, since she
had been able to preserve her purity of soul and simplicity in the
position to which she was, despite her surroundings and with such a
mother. Lord Byron, seeing her so unprotected and ill-advised, took an
interest in her, and instead of profiting by her isolation, resolved to
save her. With virtue superior to his years, he opposed the best
counsels to the more than imprudent projects of a mother who thought
only of repairing her fortune by whatever means. Miss S----, attracted
toward him with her whole heart and soul, begged her young and noble
benefactor to come and see her, if it were only once a month. "I should
be so happy, my lord, if you would sometimes grant me the favor of a
visit, and guide my life," said she to him.
But Lord Byron had perceived the excited state of feeling in which the
young girl was. Besides, he was betrothed, and did not wish to expose
her and himself to the consequences. Honor and prudence alike counselled
a refusal, and he refused.
"My dear child," answered he, "I can not. I will tell you my present
position, and you will understand that I ought not: I am going to
marry."
"At these words," said she, "my heart sunk within me, as if a piece of
lead had fallen on my chest. At the same instant I experienced an acute
pain in it. It seemed as if a chilly steel had pierced me. A horrible,
indescribable sensation shook my whole frame. For some moments I could
not possibly articulate a single word. Lord Byron looked at me with an
expression full of interest, for indeed I must have changed
countenance."
Lord Byron, already aware that his image was graven on this young heart,
and might become dangerous to her, then understood still better the
silent ravages that love must be making there. He pitied her more than
ever, he felt the necessity of refusal and sacrifice, and, from that
moment, all struggle between will and desire ceased.
He also refused, after some hesitation, to recommend her to the Duke of
Devonshire.
"You are young and pretty," said he, "and that is sufficient to place
any man, wishing to serve you, in a false position. You know how the
world understands a young man's friendship and interest for a young
woman. No; my name must not appear in a recommendation to the duke.
Don't think me disobliging, therefore. On the contrary, I wish you to
make an appeal to Devonshire, but without naming me; I have told you my
reasons for refusing to be openly your advocate."
"Another time," adds she, "I ventured to express the wish of being
presented to the future Lady Byron. But he again answered by a refusal.
'Though amiable and unsuspicious,' said he, 'persons about Lady Byron
might put jealous suspicions, devoid of foundation, into her head.'"
Thus equally by what he refused her and what he granted her, he proved
his great generosity, the elevation of his character, his virtuous
abnegation and self-control.
Although Miss S---- was then in an humble and humiliating position, she
had received a fine classical and intellectual education from her uncle,
who was a professor at Cambridge. Her natural wit, the _naivete_ and
sincerity of her ideas, uncontaminated by worldly knowledge, were
appreciated by Lord Byron. He understood her worth, despite the
difficulties that made virtue of greater merit in her, and
notwithstanding appearances that were against her; and he showed
interest in her conversation during the different interviews she
obtained from him. He talked to her of literature, the news of the day;
and even had the goodness to read with indulgence and approbation the
verses she had composed. One day, among others, she had the happiness of
remaining with him till a late hour, and when his carriage was
announced, to take him to a _soiree_, he had her conducted home in the
same carriage.
"Oh! how delightful that evening was to me," says she. "Lord Byron's
abode at the Albany recalled some collegiate dwelling, so perfectly
quiet was it, though situated at the West End, the noisiest quarter of
the metropolis. His conversation so varied and delightful, the purity of
his English, his refined pronunciation, all offered such a contrast even
with the most distinguished men I had had the good fortune to meet, that
I really learned what happiness was."
These conversations afforded her the opportunity of knowing and admiring
him still more. In conversing on literature, she was able to appreciate
his modesty by the praises he lavished on the talents of others, and by
the slight importance he attached to his own; and also his love of truth
when, _a propos_ of some book of travels she was praising, he told her
that he preferred a simple but true tale of voyages to all the pomp of
lies. In speaking about an adventure in high life that was then making a
great noise in England, she was able to appreciate his high sentiments
of delicacy and honor. When the conversation fell on religion, she had
the happiness of hearing him declare he abhorred atheism and unbelief;
and when his childhood was touched upon, of hearing him say that it had
been pleasant and happy. Finally, when she asked his advice with regard
to her future conduct, he displayed, at twenty-six years of age, the
wisdom that seldom comes before the advent of gray hairs. In short, by
word and by action, he manifested that nobleness of soul which always
unveiled itself to pure open natures, but which closed against
artificial ones; and which makes Miss S---- say at the beginning as well
as at the end of her account:--"There has been but one Byron on earth:
how could I not love him?"
But it is especially on account of the great love she felt for him, on
going over it, reflecting, comparing the depth of feelings she had been
unable to hide from him, with the conduct of this young man of
twenty-six, who drew from duty alone a degree of strength superior to
his age and sex, that she expressed herself thus. She can still see his
looks of tenderness; she can judge what the struggle was, the combat
that was going on in him as soft and stern glances chased each other; at
length she sees honor gain the victory, and remain triumphant.
It is this spectacle of such great moral beauty, still before her eyes,
that can be so well appreciated after the lapse of long years, and which
justifies the words that begin and close her recital by divesting it of
all semblance of exaggeration:--"There has been but one Byron!"
When we have known such beings, admiration and love outlive all else.
And while the causes that may have led to transient emotions in a long
career--an error, a fault--pass away and are forgotten like some
beautiful vision, these glorious remembrances, these more than human
images, tower above, living and radiant, in memory, and even come to
visit us in our dreams, sometimes to reproach us with our useless and
imprudent doubts, ever to sustain us amid the sadnesses of life; and if
the love has been reciprocal, then to console us with the prospect of
another life, in that blessed abode where we shall meet again forever.
After this long narrative, it would be useless and perhaps wearisome for
the reader if we quoted many other similar facts in Lord Byron's life.
They might differ in circumstances, but would all wear the same moral
character.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 87: She had dedicated to him a small collection of poems,
which she sent to Pisa, in 1821, with a letter, _to which she received
no answer_.]
[Footnote 88: "All that," says she, "lives in my heart and soul, as if
these things had taken place a few weeks ago, instead of so many years"
(1864).]