"Trinity College, Cambridge, October 26. 1807.
"My dear Elizabeth,
"Fatigued with sitting up till four in the morning for the last two
days at hazard,[77] I take up my pen to enquire how your highness and
the rest of my female acquaintance at the seat of archiepiscopal
grandeur go on. I know I deserve a scolding for my negligence in not
writing more frequently; but racing up and down the country for these
last three months, how was it possible to fulfil the duties of a
correspondent? Fixed at last for six weeks, I write, as _thin_ as ever
(not having gained an ounce since my reduction), and rather in better
humour;--but, after all, Southwell was a detestable residence. Thank
St. Dominica, I have done with it: I have been twice within eight
miles of it, but could not prevail on myself to _suffocate_ in its
heavy atmosphere. This place is wretched enough--a villanous chaos of
din and drunkenness, nothing but hazard and burgundy, hunting,
mathematics, and Newmarket, riot and racing. Yet it is a paradise
compared with the eternal dulness of Southwell. Oh! the misery of
doing nothing but make love, enemies, and _verses_.
"Next January, (but this is _entre nous only_, and pray let it be so,
or my maternal persecutor will be throwing her tomahawk at any of my
curious projects,) I am going to _sea_ for four or five months, with
my cousin Capt. Bettesworth, who commands the Tartar, the finest
frigate in the navy. I have seen most scenes, and wish to look at a
naval life. We are going probably to the Mediterranean, or to the West
Indies, or--to the d----l; and if there is a possibility of taking me to
the latter, Bettesworth will do it; for he has received four and
twenty wounds in different places, and at this moment possesses a
letter from the late Lord Nelson, stating Bettesworth as the only
officer in the navy who had more wounds than himself.
"I have got a new friend, the finest in the world, a _tame bear_.
When I brought him here, they asked me what I meant to do with him,
and my reply was, 'he should _sit for a fellowship_.' Sherard
will explain the meaning of the sentence, if it is ambiguous. This
answer delighted them not. We have several parties here, and this
evening a large assortment of jockeys, gamblers, boxers, authors,
parsons, and poets, sup with me,--a precious mixture, but they go on
well together; and for me, I am a _spice_ of every thing except a
jockey; by the by, I was dismounted again the other day.
Thank your brother in my name for his treatise. I have written 214
pages of a novel,--one poem of 380 lines,[78] to be published (without
my name) in a few weeks, with notes,--560 lines of Bosworth Field, and
250 lines of another poem in rhyme, besides half a dozen smaller
pieces. The poem to be published is a Satire. _Apropos_, I have been
praised to the skies in the Critical Review,[79] and abused greatly in
another publication.[80] So much the better, they tell me, for the
sale of the book: it keeps up controversy, and prevents it being
forgotten. Besides, the first men of all ages have had their share,
nor do the humblest escape;--so I bear it like a philosopher. It is
odd two opposite critiques came out on the same day, and out of five
pages of abuse, my censor only quotes _two lines_ from different
poems, in support of his opinion. Now, the proper way to _cut up_, is
to quote long passages, and make them appear absurd, because simple
allegation is no proof. On the other hand, there are seven pages of
praise, and more than _my modesty_ will allow, said on the subject.
Adieu.
"P.S. Write, write, write!!!"
It was at the beginning of the following year that an acquaintance
commenced between Lord Byron and a gentleman, related to his family by
marriage, Mr. Dallas,--the author of some novels, popular, I believe,
in their day, and also of a sort of Memoir of the noble Poet,
published soon after his death, which, from being founded chiefly on
original correspondence, is the most authentic and trust-worthy of any
that have yet appeared. In the letters addressed by Lord Byron to this
gentleman, among many details, curious in a literary point of view, we
find, what is much more important for our present purpose, some
particulars illustrative of the opinions which he had formed, at this
time of his life, on the two subjects most connected with the early
formation of character--morals and religion.
It is but rarely that infidelity or scepticism finds an entrance into
youthful minds. That readiness to take the future upon trust, which is
the charm of this period of life, would naturally, indeed, make it the
season of belief as well as of hope. There are also then, still fresh
in the mind, the impressions of early religious culture, which, even
in those who begin soonest to question their faith, give way but
slowly to the encroachments of doubt, and, in the mean time, extend
the benefit of their moral restraint over a portion of life when it is
acknowledged such restraints are most necessary. If exemption from the
checks of religion be, as infidels themselves allow,[81] a state of
freedom from responsibility dangerous at all times, it must be
peculiarly so in that season of temptation, youth, when the passions
are sufficiently disposed to usurp a latitude for themselves, without
taking a licence also from infidelity to enlarge their range. It is,
therefore, fortunate that, for the causes just stated, the inroads of
scepticism and disbelief should be seldom felt in the mind till a
period of life when the character, already formed, is out of the reach
of their disturbing influence,--when, being the result, however
erroneous, of thought and reasoning, they are likely to partake of the
sobriety of the process by which they were acquired, and, being
considered but as matters of pure speculation, to have as little share
in determining the mind towards evil as, too often, the most orthodox
creed has, at the same age, in influencing it towards good.
While, in this manner, the moral qualities of the unbeliever himself
are guarded from some of the mischiefs that might, at an earlier age,
attend such doctrines, the danger also of his communicating the
infection to others is, for reasons of a similar nature, considerably
diminished. The same vanity or daring which may have prompted the
youthful sceptic's opinions, will lead him likewise, it is probable,
rashly and irreverently to avow them, without regard either to the
effect of his example on those around him, or to the odium which, by
such an avowal, he entails irreparably on himself. But, at a riper
age, these consequences are, in general, more cautiously weighed. The
infidel, if at all considerate of the happiness of others, will
naturally pause before he chases from their hearts a hope of which his
own feels the want so desolately. If regardful only of himself, he
will no less naturally shrink from the promulgation of opinions which,
in no age, have men uttered with impunity. In either case there is a
tolerably good security for his silence;--for, should benevolence not
restrain him from making converts of others, prudence may, at least,
prevent him from making a martyr of himself.
Unfortunately, Lord Byron was an exception to the usual course of such
lapses. With him, the canker showed itself "in the morn and dew of
youth," when the effect of such "blastments" is, for every reason,
most fatal,--and, in addition to the real misfortune of being an
unbeliever at any age, he exhibited the rare and melancholy spectacle
of an unbelieving schoolboy. The same prematurity of developement
which brought his passions and genius so early into action, enabled
him also to anticipate this worst, dreariest result of reason; and at
the very time of life when a spirit and temperament like his most
required control, those checks, which religious pre-possessions best
supply, were almost wholly wanting.
We have seen, in those two Addresses to the Deity which I have
selected from among his unpublished poems, and still more strongly in
a passage of the Catalogue of his studies, at what a boyish age the
authority of all systems and sects was avowedly shaken off by his
enquiring spirit. Yet, even in these, there is a fervour of adoration
mingled with his defiance of creeds, through which the piety implanted
in his nature (as it is deeply in all poetic natures) unequivocally
shows itself; and had he then fallen within the reach of such guidance
and example as would have seconded and fostered these natural
dispositions, the licence of opinion into which he afterwards broke
loose might have been averted. His scepticism, if not wholly removed,
might have been softened down into that humble doubt, which, so far
from being inconsistent with a religious spirit, is, perhaps, its best
guard against presumption and uncharitableness; and, at all events,
even if his own views of religion had not been brightened or elevated,
he would have learned not wantonly to cloud or disturb those of
others. But there was no such monitor near him. After his departure
from Southwell, he had not a single friend or relative to whom he
could look up with respect; but was thrown alone on the world, with
his passions and his pride, to revel in the fatal discovery which he
imagined himself to have made of the nothingness of the future, and
the all-paramount claims of the present. By singular ill fortune, too,
the individual who, among all his college friends, had taken the
strongest hold on his admiration and affection, and whose loss he
afterwards lamented with brotherly tenderness, was, to the same extent
as himself, if not more strongly, a sceptic. Of this remarkable young
man, Matthews, who was so early snatched away, and whose career in
after-life, had it been at all answerable to the extraordinary
promise of his youth, must have placed him upon a level with the first
men of his day, a Memoir was, at one time, intended to be published by
his relatives; and to Lord Byron, among others of his college friends,
application, for assistance in the task, was addressed. The letter
which this circumstance drew forth from the noble poet, besides
containing many amusing traits of his friend, affords such an insight
into his own habits of life at this period, that, though infringing
upon the chronological order of his correspondence, I shall insert it
here.