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Lord Byron and his Times: http://lordbyron.org
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Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit .
In the last year of the last century, when my classical tastes were
yet unsatiated, I had bought and perused, with no small gratification, an octavo volume,
entitled “
* jeu
d’espritvade mecumjaunting “He goes abroad
about the end of summer; visits some country in a hasty and superficial manner; returns
with his notes, and by the help of
* Of his
skill in the bathos the following short extract may form a notion;—“The
evening, shrouded in black clouds charged with rain, rapidly set in, and only the light
blue smoke of the cabin relieved the universally deep embrowned sterility of the scene.
Such a jejune writer, trusting
to his memory for his stale jests; to coachmen, peasants, and similar authorities for his
frivolous facts, and narrating them in a style equally turgid and empty, presented a
temptation to burlesque which a keen observer, with an acute sense of the ridiculous, and a
rich vein of wit and humour, could hardly be expected to resist. Such a man was the author
of “In these and most other districts the
Edinburgh Reviewmilk of sheep is used.”
A bookseller who had engaged him for his next trip and quarto, alarmed at the
sudden extinction of his popularity, refused to fulfil the contract, and
Among the frequent guests at * “
though perhaps his character might have found a better prototype in the republican, than in
the imperial days, of Rome. His brother’s social powers were not less varied than
delightful. When it pleased him to follow his natural bent, and to indulge his playful
imagination in Justum et tenacem propositi virum“jest and youthful jollity,”
I can confidently affirm
that a merrier man
although, to my taste, he was seldom so attractive as when, accompanying himself on
the piano, his fine, manly voice “warbled immortal verse and Tuscan
air.”
Manifold and sore have been his trials since those early and halcyon
days, but a mind like his, containing within itself a fountain of perennial youth and
cheerfulness, repels the rust of time, and rendering its possessor independent of the blind
goddess, enables him “to scorn her smiles, and treat with smiles her
scorning.”
After thirty years of combined struggle and studiousness, his
ever-buoyant philosophy has bated no jot of heart or hope; a truly enviable result, which,
as he tells us in the preface to his last charming work,* proceeds from the
consciousness—“of
Long had the public wondered, and well might they
wonder, that the Whigs should have done nothing for an old and consistent partisan, whose
talents and writings had benefited their cause as much, if not more, than those of any
other individual; who had unflinchingly adhered to them through good and evil report,
untempted by the rich rewards that would have awaited his tergiversation; who had suffered
heavy fines, long imprisonment, damage of health and fortune, persecution and abuse, mainly
on account of his inflexible maintenance of Whig principles; who had enriched the
literature of his country by various productions of unquestioned excellence, and whose
private character, after a life of painful struggles, remained free from reproach; that
nothing should have been done for such a man, such a staunch adherent, such a victim, was
widely felt to be a standing and most flagrant stigma upon the whole Whig party, who had
twice, and for considerable periods, possessed the power of doing justice to his claims.
Well! after many a long and drudging year, after a protracted struggle with
the res angusta domi
After this formal and sincere offering of homage, I may perhaps be allowed to
remark, that if the public think themselves entitled to know why pensions are granted, they
have an equal right to be informed why they are withheld, where the claims are both
manifold and manifest. Upon the latter point the writer of these notices can furnish some
little information. During the “an
Why, there
are names on the pension list of individuals who have lampooned the same august sovereign,
m prose and verse, through whole octavos. Ay, cried the objectors, but they had never been
fined and imprisoned for the offence. O precious
Reflecting, however, that the goddess is blind, I become reconciled to her caprices.
But I must confess that my rising gorge is not so easily allayed when a prime-minister,
with eyes in his head, pursues the same course, compelling me to contrast the lavish
bestowal of posts and pensions for inadequate services, with the niggardly spirit in which
pittances are doled out to literary men, however eminent their talents, however
irreproachable their character. Of this humiliating fact the recently published Examiner:
“Well, there he was—a man of great merit, great learning and genius, and in his old age without bread. Such, indeed, was his merit, such his learning and genius, such the cruelty of his case, that the trustees of the Museum went out of their way, opposite as most of them were to him in political sentiments, and recommended him as a proper object of bounty to the government, and yet nothing has been done!
“Was the pension-list committee averse to such pensions? Quite otherwise, as I am assured by
Lord John Russell .“But he has written a sonnet. What had not
Montgomery done, whenSir Robert Peel gave him what he did? IfDryden andJohnson were now alive, and pouring forth toryism or bigotry, would not I serve them if I could?Cary has now withdrawn his friendship from me. He thinks I was his enemy in this matter, but that shall not make me lesз anxious to render him any service in my power, but power I have none.“Yours ever, “ S. R. “‘He is now slaving for the booksellers.’”
The pension was finally granted, probably in consequence of this admirable and unanswerable letter.
To me, a firm believer in the destined improvement of our moral nature, it
is ineffably grateful to perceive that the grant which
From obvious motives of delicacy, my references to the survivors of my
literary acquaintance have been generally so slight and cursory, that I feel an apology to
be due to