LORD  BYRON  and  his  TIMES
Byron
Documents Biography Criticism

Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron
Fragment of a Novel
INTRODUCTION & INDEXES
DOCUMENT INFORMATION
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Table of Contents
Preliminary Statement
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
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Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
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RECOLLECTIONS

OF THE

LIFE OF LORD BYRON,


FROM THE YEAR

1808 TO THE END OF 1814;


EXHIBITING


HIS EARLY CHARACTER AND OPINIONS, DETAILING THE PROGRESS OF HIS
LITERARY CAREER, AND INCLUDING VARIOUS UNPUBLISHED
PASSAGES OF HIS WORKS.



TAKEN FROM AUTHENTIC DOCUMENTS.
IN THE POSSESSION OF THE AUTHOR.


BY THE LATE
R. C. DALLAS, Esq.


TO WHICH IS PREFIXED


AN ACCOUNT OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES LEADING TO THE SUPPRESSION
OF LORD BYRON’S CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE AUTHOR,
AND HIS LETTERS TO HIS MOTHER, LATELY
ANNOUNCED FOR PUBLICATION.






LONDON:

PRINTED FOR CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL-EAST.

MDCCCXXIV.

“— J—, 180—.
“—— Darrell to G. Y.
[The first part of this letter is lost.]

“* * * * * * so much for your present pursuits. I will now resume the subject of my last. How I wish you were upon the spot; your taste for the ridiculous would be fully gratified; and if you felt inclined for more serious amusement, there is no ‘lack of argument.’ Within this last week our guests have been doubled in number, some of them my old acquaintance. Our host you already know—absurd as ever, but rather duller, and I should conceive troublesome to such of his very good friends as find his house more agreeable than its owner. I confine myself to observation, and do not find him at all in the way, though Veramore and Asply are of a different opinion. The former, in particular, imparts to me many pathetic complaints on the want of opportunities (nothing else being wanting to the success of the said Veramore,) created by the
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fractious and but ill-concealed jealousy of poor Bramblebear, whose Penelope seems to have as many suitors as her namesake, and for aught I can see to the contrary, with as much prospect of carrying their point. In the mean time, I look on and laugh, or rather, I should laugh were you present to share in it: Sackcloth and sorrow are excellent wear for Soliloquy; but for a laugh there should be two, but not many more, except at the first night of a modern tragedy.

“You are very much mistaken in the design you impute to myself; I have none here or elsewhere. I am sick of old intrigues, and too indolent to engage in new ones. Besides, I am, that is, I used to be, apt to find my heart gone at the very time when you fastidious gentlemen begin to recover yours. I agree with you that the world, as well as yourself, are of a different opinion. I shall never be at the trouble to undeceive either; my follies have seldom been of my own seeking. ‘Rebellion came in my way and I found it.’ This may appear as coxcombical a speech as Veramore could make, yet you partly know its truth. You talk to me too of ‘my cha-
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racter,’ and yet it is one which you and fifty others have been struggling these seven years to obtain for yourselves. I wish you had it, you would make so much better, that is worse, use of it; relieve me, and gratify an ambition which is unworthy of a man of sense. It has always appeared to me extraordinary that you should value women so highly and yet love them so little. The height of your gratification ceases with its accomplishment; you bow—and you sigh—and you worship—and abandon. For my part I regard them as a very beautiful but inferior animal. I think them as much out of their place at our tables as they would be in our senates. The whole present system, with regard to that sex, is a remnant of the chivalrous barbarism of our ancestors; I look upon them as grown up children, but, like a foolish mamma, am always the slave of some only one. With a contempt for the race, I am ever attached to the individual, in spite of myself. You know, that though not rude, I am inattentive; any thing but a ‘beau garçon.’ I would not hand a woman out of her carriage, but I would leap into a river after her. However, I grant you
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that, as they must walk oftener out of chariots than into the Thames, you gentlemen Servitors, Cortejos, and Cicisbei, have a better chance of being agreeable and useful; you might, very probably, do both; but, as you can’t swim, and I can, I recommend you to invite me to your first water-party.

“Bramblebear’s Lady Penelope puzzles me. She is very beautiful, but not one of my beauties. You know I admire a different complexion, but the figure is perfect. She is accomplished, if her mother and music-master may be believed; amiable, if a soft voice and a sweet smile could make her so; young, even by the register of her baptism; pious and chaste, and doting on her husband, according to Bramblebear’s observation; equally loving, not of her husband, though rather less pious, and t’other thing, according to Veramore’s; and, if mine hath any discernment, she detests the one, despises the other, and loves—herself. That she dislikes Bramblebear is evident; poor soul, I can’t blame her; she has found him out to be mighty weak, and little-tempered; she has also discovered that she married
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too early to know what she liked, and that there are many likeable people who would have been less discordant and more creditable partners. Still she conducts herself well, and in point of good-humour, to admiration.—A good deal of religion, (not enthusiasm, for that leads the contrary way), a prying husband who never leaves her, and, as I think, a very temperate pulse, will keep her out of scrapes. I am glad of it, first, because, though Bramblebear is bad, I don’t think Veramore much better; and next, because Bramblebear is ridiculous enough already, and it would only be thrown away upon him to make him more so; thirdly, it would be a pity, because no body would pity him; and, fourthly, (as Scrub says) he would then become a melancholy and sentimental harlequin, instead of a merry, fretful, pantaloon, and I like the pantomime better as it is now cast.

“More in my next.

“Yours, truly,
“—— Darrell.”