Effect of the Criticism in the "Edinburgh Review"--"English Bards and
Scotch Reviewers"--His Satiety--Intention to Travel--Publishes his
Satire--Takes his Seat in the House of Lords--Departs for Lisbon;
thence to Gibraltar
The impression which the criticism of the Edinburgh Review produced
upon the juvenile poet was deep and envenomed. It stung his heart,
and prompted him to excess. But the paroxysms did not endure long;
strong volitions of revenge succeeded, and the grasps of his mind
were filled, as it were, with writhing adders. All the world knows,
that this unquenchable indignation found relief in the composition of
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers; a satire which, in many passages,
equals, in fervour and force, the most vigorous in the language.
It was during the summer of 1808, while the poet was residing at
Newstead, that English Bards and Scotch Reviewers was principally
written. He bestowed more pains upon it than perhaps on any other of
his works; and, though different from them all, it still exhibits
strong indications of the misanthropy with which, after quitting
Cambridge, he became more and more possessed. It is painful to
reflect, in considering the splendid energy displayed in the poem,
that the unprovoked malice which directed him to make the satire so
general, was, perhaps, the main cause of that disposition to wither
his reputation, which was afterwards so fervently roused. He could
not but expect, that, in stigmatising with contempt and ridicule so
many persons by name, some of them would retaliate. Nor could he
complain of injustice if they did; for his attack was so wilful, that
the rage of it can only be explained by supposing he was instigated
to "the one fell swoop," by a resentful conviction, that his
impillory in the Edinburgh Review had amused them all.
I do not conceive, that the generality of the satire can be well
extenuated; but I am not inclined to regard it as having been a very
heinous offence. The ability displayed in it is a sufficient
compensation. The beauty of the serpent's skin appeases the aversion
to its nature. Moreover, a toothless satire is verse without poetry-
-the most odious of all respectable things.
But, without regard to the merits or delinquency of the poem, to the
acumen of its animadversions, or to the polish of the lines, it
possesses, in the biography of the author, a value of the most
interesting kind. It was the first burst of that dark, diseased
ichor, which afterwards coloured his effusions; the overflowing
suppuration of that satiety and loathing, which rendered Childe
Harold, in particular, so original, incomprehensible, and antisocial;
and bears testimony to the state of his feelings at that important
epoch, while he was yet upon the threshold of the world, and was
entering it with a sense of failure and humiliation, and premature
disgust. For, notwithstanding his unnecessary expositions concerning
his dissipation, it is beyond controversy, that at no time could it
be said he was a dissipated young man. That he indulged in
occasional excesses is true; but his habits were never libertine, nor
did his health or stamina permit him to be distinguished in
licentiousness. The declaration in which he first discloses his
sobriety, contains more truth than all his pretensions to his
father's qualities. "I took my gradations in the vices," says he, in
that remarkable confession, "with great promptitude, but they were
not to my taste; for my early passions, though violent in the
extreme, were concentrated, and hated division or spreading abroad.
I could have left or lost the whole world with or for that which I
loved; but, though my temperament was naturally burning, I could not
share in the common libertinism of the place and time without
disgust; and yet this very disgust, and my heart thrown back upon
itself, threw me into excesses perhaps more fatal than those from
which I shrunk, as fixing upon one at a time the passions, which,
spread among many, would have hurt only myself." This is vague and
metaphysical enough; but it bears corroborative intimations, that the
impression which he early made upon me was not incorrect. He was
vain of his experiments in profligacy, but they never grew to
habitude.
While he was engaged in the composition of his satire, he formed a
plan of travelling; but there was a great shortcoming between the
intention and the performance. He first thought of Persia; he
afterwards resolved to sail for India; and had so far matured this
project, as to write for information to the Arabic professor at
Cambridge; and to his mother, who was not then with him at Newstead,
to inquire of a friend, who had resided in India, what things would
be necessary for the voyage. He formed his plan of travelling upon
different reasons from those which he afterward gave out, and which
have been imputed to him. He then thought that all men should in
some period of their lives travel; he had at that time no tie to
prevent him; he conceived that when he returned home he might be
induced to enter into political life, to which his having travelled
would be an advantage; and he wished to know the world by sight, and
to judge of men by experience.
When his satire was ready for the press, he carried it with him to
London. He was then just come of age, or about to be so; and one of
his objects in this visit to the metropolis was, to take his seat in
the House of Lords before going abroad; but, in advancing to this
proud distinction, so soothing to the self-importance of youth, he
was destined to suffer a mortification which probably wounded him as
deeply as the sarcasms of the Edinburgh Review. Before the meeting
of Parliament, he wrote to his relation and guardian, the Earl of
Carlisle, to remind him that he should be of age at the commencement
of the Session, in the natural hope that his Lordship would make an
offer to introduce him to the House: but he was disappointed. He
only received a formal reply, acquainting him with the technical mode
of proceeding, and the etiquette to be observed on such occasions.
It is therefore not wonderful that he should have resented such
treatment; and he avenged it by those lines in his satire, for which
he afterwards expressed his regret in the third canto of Childe
Harold.
Deserted by his guardian at a crisis so interesting, he was prevented
for some time from taking his seat in Parliament; being obliged to
procure affidavits in proof of his grandfather's marriage with Miss
Trevannion, which having taken place in a private chapel at Carhais,
no regular certificate of the ceremony could be produced. At length,
all the necessary evidence having been obtained, on the 13th of
March, 1809, he presented himself in the House of Lords alone--a
proceeding consonant to his character, for he was not so friendless
nor unknown, but that he might have procured some peer to have gone
with him. It, however, served to make his introduction remarkable.
On entering the House, he is described to have appeared abashed and
pale: he passed the woolsack without looking round, and advanced to
the table where the proper officer was attending to administer the
oaths. When he had gone through them, the chancellor quitted his
seat, and went towards him with a smile, putting out his hand in a
friendly manner to welcome him, but he made a stiff bow, and only
touched with the tip of his fingers the chancellor's hand, who
immediately returned to his seat. Such is the account given of this
important incident by Mr Dallas, who went with him to the bar; but a
characteristic circumstance is wanting. When Lord Eldon advanced
with the cordiality described, he expressed with becoming courtesy
his regret that the rules of the House had obliged him to call for
the evidence of his grandfather's marriage.--"Your Lordship has done
your duty, and no more," was the cold reply, in the words of Tom
Thumb, and which probably was the cause of the marked manner of the
chancellor's cool return to his seat.
The satire was published anonymously, and immediately attracted
attention; the sale was rapid, and a new edition being called for,
Byron revised it. The preparations for his travels being completed,
he then embarked in July of the same year, with Mr Hobhouse, for
Lisbon, and thence proceeded by the southern provinces of Spain to
Gibraltar.
In the account of his adventures during this journey, he seems to
have felt, to an exaggerated degree, the hazards to which he was
exposed. But many of his descriptions are given with a bright pen.
That of Lisbon has always been admired for its justness, and the
mixture of force and familiarity.
What beauties doth Lisboa's port unfold!
Her image floating on that noble tide,
Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold,
But now whereon a thousand keels did ride,
Of mighty strength since Albion was allied,
And to the Lusians did her aid afford.
A nation swoln with ignorance and pride,
Who lick, yet loathe, the hand that waves the sword
To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord.
But whoso entereth within this town,
That sheening for celestial seems to be,
Disconsolate will wander up and down,
'Mid many things unsightly strange to see,
For hut and palace show like filthily;
The dingy denizens are reared in dirt;
No personage of high or mean degree
Doth care for cleanness of surtout and shirt,
Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwash'd, unhurt.
Considering the interest which he afterwards took in the affairs of
Greece, it is remarkable that he should have passed through Spain, at
the period he has described, without feeling any sympathy with the
spirit which then animated that nation. Intent, however, on his
travels, pressing onward to an unknown goal, he paused not to inquire
as to the earnestness of the patriotic zeal of the Spaniards, nor
once dreamed, even for adventure, of taking a part in their heroic
cause.