"_Felix qui potuit ferum cognoscere causas_."--Virgil.
They say that Hope is happiness;
But genuine Love must prize the past,
And mem'ry wakes the thoughts that bless:
They rose the first--they set the last;
And all that mem'ry loves the most
Was once our only hope to be,
And all that Hope ador'd and lost
Hath melted into memory.
Alas! it is delusion all:
The future cheats us from afar,
Nor can we be what we recall
Nor dare we think on what we are.
The foregoing lines were officiously taken up by a person who
arrogated to himself some self-importance in criticism, and who made
an observation upon their demerits, on which his lordship quaintly
observed, "they were written in haste and they shall perish in the
same manner," and immediately consigned them to the flames; as my
music adapted to them, however, did not share the same fate, and
having a contrary opinion of any thing that might fall from the pen of
Lord Byron, I treasured them up, and on a subsequent interview with
his lordship I accused him of having committed suicide in making so
valuable a _burnt offering_: to which his lordship smilingly replied,
"the act seems to _inflame_ you: come, Nathan, since you are
displeased with the _sacrifice_, I give them to you as a _peace
offering_, use them as you may deem proper."
When the Hebrew Melodies were first published, Sir Walter, then Mr.
Scott, honoured me with a visit at my late residence in Poland Street:
I sang several of the melodies to him--he repeated his visit, and
requested I would allow him to introduce his lady and his daughter;
they came together, when I had the pleasure of singing to them
Jephtha's Daughter and one or two more of the most favourite airs;
they entered into the spirit of the music with all the true taste and
feeling so peculiar to the Scotch.
Mr. Scott again called on me to take leave before his return to
Scotland; we entered into conversation respecting the sublimity and
beauty of Lord Byron's poetry, and he spoke of his lordship with
admiration, exclaiming "He is a man of wonderful genius--he is a
great man."
I called on Lord Byron the same day, and mentioned to him that Walter
Scott had been with me that morning. His lordship observed, "Then,
Nathan, you have been visited by the greatest man of the age, and,"
continued his lordship, "I suppose you have read _Waverley_." I
replied in the negative. "Then," returned his lordship, "you have a
pleasure to come, let me recommend it to you; it is decidedly the best
novel I ever read; you are of course aware that it was written by
Walter Scott." It had at this period scarcely been rumoured that such
was actually the case, but Lord Byron was more than usually positive
in identifying the author with his writings.
In speaking of Moore, as a poet, Lord Byron acknowledged his powers,
and spoke highly of his effusions generally. "The Irish Melodies,"
said his lordship, "will outlive all his other productions, and will
be hailed by the Irish nation as long as music and poetry exist in
that country."
Many coincidences in life may seem to border on superstition, without
any existing reality; and, although never personally taxed with the
sin of superstition, yet the following circumstance brings strongly to
my remembrance what passed relative to my friend and patron.
I was with Lord Byron, at his house in Piccadilly, the best part of
the three last days before he left London, to quit England; I
expressed my regret at his departure, and desired to know if it was
really his intention not to return (little anticipating what
eventually took place;) he fixed his eyes upon me with an eager look
of inquiry, exclaiming at the same time, "Good God! I never had it in
contemplation to remain in exile--why do you ask that question?" I
stated that such a report had been rumoured. "I certainly intend
returning," continued his lordship, "unless the _grim tyrant_ should
be playing his pranks on me."
He appeared very anxious for the voyage, and walked about the room in
great agitation, waiting the return of a messenger who had been sent
respecting some delay which was likely to take place; the messenger
however soon entered, and presented him a letter, which his lordship
opened with great eagerness. In reading the letter his countenance,
like the earth illumined by the re-appearance of the moon, after
having been obscured by dark clouds, brightened up, and at the close
he exultingly exclaimed "this is kind--very kind--Nathan! to-morrow I
quit." I soon after left him; he shook me heartily by the hand, and
left with his impression a fifty pound note, saying, "Do not be
offended with me at this mode of expressing the delight you have
afforded me--until we meet again, farewell!--I shall not forget my
promise." His lordship here alluded to some promised verses.
Having left the room he called me back, and reverting once more to my
first allusion of the rumour about his not returning, laughingly said,
"Remember, Nathan, you shall certainly see me again in body or in
spirit."
There are several other interesting anecdotical Recollections of Lord
Byron, especially of his connexion with Drury Lane Theatre, and above
all, a _new light_ is thrown on his Lordship's affair with Mrs.
Mardyn. Appended are likewise some characteristic _traits_ of the late
Lady Caroline Lamb, with some pleasing specimens of her Ladyship's
poetical talent. Altogether, Mr. Nathan's is just the book for _the
season_; and we have penciled a few of its pleasantries for our next
number.
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