Journal of the Conversations of Lord Byron
Wedding day odes and epigrams
JOURNAL
OF THE
CONVERSATIONS
OF
LORD BYRON:
NOTED DURING A RESIDENCE WITH HIS LORDSHIP
AT PISA,
IN THE YEARS 1821 AND 1822.
BY THOMAS MEDWIN, ESQ.
OF THE 24TH LIGHT DRAGOONS,
AUTHOR OF “AHASUERUS THE WANDERER.”
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1824.
“A fine day,” said I, as I entered; “a day worth living
for.”
“An old wag of a world!” replied he, shaking me by the hand. You
should have been here earlier. T—— has been here with a
most portentous and obstetrical countenance, and it seems he has been bringing forth an ode—a
birthday ode—not on Ada, but on
a lady. An
odious production it must have been! He threatened to inflict, as
Shelley calls it; but I fought off. As I told him,
Stellas are out of date now: it is a bad compliment
to remind women of their age.
“Talking of days, this is the most wretched day of my existence; and I
say and do all sorts of foolish things* to drive away the memory of it, and make me forget.
“I will give you a specimen of some epigrams I am in
* “So that it wean me from the weary dream Of selfish grief, or gladness!—so it fling Forgetfulness around me!” |
“And if I laugh at any mortal thing, ’Tis that I may not weep;—and if I weep, ’Tis that our nature cannot always bring Itself to apathy” &c. |
|
the habit of sending Hobhouse, to
whom I wrote on my first wedding-day, and continue to write still: “This day of ours has surely done Its worst for me and you! ’Tis now five years since we were one, And four since we were two. |
And another on his sending me the
congratulations of the season, which ended in some foolish way like this: “You may wish me returns of the season: Let us, prithee, have none of the day!” |
Editor of the Courier,
“Byron and Medwin's Conversations” in The Courier
No. 10,287 (3 November 1824)
The extracts which we have given from Capt. Medwin's Conversations of
Lord Byron, have enabled our readers to estimate the value of that work. It has a
value; but it is of a peculiar kind. It has considerable interest too; but it is that
description of interest which we feel, in spite of ourselves, for the career of misguided
talent. Captain Medwin, we dare say, has performed his task
faithfully; and as we are to presume that Lord Byron sanctioned this posthumous exhibition, his friends can have no
right to complain that it is now made. They saved him, indeed, from the brand of his own pen:
and if we may judge what the picture would have been, filled up in all its details, by this
outline, they acted as friends should act. . . .
[William Jerdan?],
“Medwin’s Byron’s Conversations” in Literary Gazette
No. 408 (13 November 1824)
But while the world condemns, the world buys; and every one, in turn, thus
encourages the injury done to his neighbour, till at last the case
becomes his own, and then, great is the outcry. In the meantime, persons known to be guilty of
these offences are speedily kicked out of decent company; and if
On eagle wings immortal slander flies,
the despised slanderer is condemned to creep, reptile-like, among the darkest and dirtiest
recesses on the earth. Captain Medwin, whose military rank entitles him to
mix with gentlemen, and who is, we are told, the son of a respectable attorney at Horsham,
would probably find it very unpleasant to encounter English society at home, in consequence of
having printed this volume; so strong is the general feeling against such exhibitions of
privacy, of character in deshabille, and of random talk which could never be meant to go beyond
the walls within which it was uttered. In short, the gossip is justly reckoned as dangerous as
the spy; and certain it is, that more mischief is done by the silly chatterer, than by the
evil-disposed designer; that the happiness of individuals, the peace of families, and the
comforts of society, are quite as much interrupted by tale-bearing folly as by lying invention. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
I, however, am not one of those who in
the least accuse the author of this volume, either of violating any private
confidence, or of addressing the public on a subject where his opportunities of
information were defective. On these points I entirely acquit him. Let the galled jade wince, his withers are
unwrung. He is guiltless of all such unsoldierlike and
discreditable proceedings. He has revealed no secrets—he has violated no
confidence; for there is not a single sentiment or opinion put into the mouth
of Lord Byron, which has not been
printed in some one or other of his pamphlets or prefaces; there is not a
single anecdote related or alluded to in the whole work, that has not for years
been current among the fashionable and literary gossip of the metropolis, and
which the martial author has collected together with the indefatigable spirit,
and reported with the proverbial accuracy, of a deaf chamber-maid. . . .
Robert Southey,
“Mr. Southey and Lord Byron” in The Courier
No. 10,321 (13 December 1824)
I notice them
for the sake of laying before the public one sample more of the practices of the Satanic
School, and shewing what credit is due to Lord
Byron’s assertions. For that his Lordship spoke to this effect, and in
this temper, I have no doubt; Captain Medwin having, I dare say, to
the best of his recollection, faithfully performed the worshipful office of retailing all
the effusions of spleen, slander, and malignity, which were vented in his presence.
Lord Byron is the person who suffers most by this; and, indeed,
what man is there whose character would remain uninjured if every peevish or angry
expression, every sportive or extravagant sally, thrown off in the unsuspicious and
imagined safety of private life, were to be secretly noted down, and published, with no
notice of circumstances to shew how they had arisen, and when no explanation was possible?
One of the offices which has been attributed to the devil, is that of thus registering
every idle word. . . .
[John Wilson et. al.],
“Noctes Ambrosianae XVII” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Thou hast said it. I don’t mean to call Medwin a liar—indeed, I should be sorry to forget the best stanza in Don Juan. The Captain lies, sir,—but it is only
under a thousand mistakes. Whether Byron bammed him—or he,
by virtue of his own egregious stupidity, was the sole and sufficient bammifier of himself, I know
not, neither greatly do I care. This much is certain, (and it is enough for our turn,) that the
book is throughout full of things that
were not, and most resplendently deficient
quoad
the things that were. . . .
Anonymous,
“Southey and Byron” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Few men could endure the test of having their private talk written
down,—especially after the discussion of a quart of gin between the talker and the
note-taker. Byron was a rattling, reckless fellow, who said many things that he should not have
said; but, from all we have been able to ascertain, he had a great deal too much taste and tact
to talk low trash, unless where he found his audience incapable of sympathising with any of the
higher and purer strains of his mind. We regard Medwin’s book a proof positive of a small and
mean understanding in its writer; and of his total incapacity to be for one hour, in any just
sense of the term, the companion of such a man as Lord Byron. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
As Mr. Medwin has been a dragoon, and as,
moreover, he has recently sent a letter to England of a very warlike complexion, we suppose we
must content ourselves with saying that he has misheard, not misrepresented, lord Byron. Certain however, it is, that the Conversations, such as they now appear, never could have been uttered by his
lordship; who, amongst his other noble qualities, was distinguished for a scrupulous regard,
even in trifles, to truth. . . .
[John Gibson Lockhart],
“Lord Byron” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 17
No. 97 (February 1825)
Mr
Medwin’s book, again, has been dissected by Murray, Hobhouse, &c. in such
style, that no man can ever henceforth appeal to it as authority. Nevertheless, there are
many things in it also which, from internal evidence, one can scarcely doubt to be
true,—and, perhaps, some of the most interesting of these may be confirmed hereafter
on authority of another description. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
An article was
written in “The Westminster
Review” (Medwin says
by Mr. Hobhouse) to show that the Conversations were altogether unworthy of
credit. There are doubtless many inaccuracies in the latter; but the spirit remains
undoubted; and the author of the criticism was only vexed, that such was the fact. He
assumes, that Lord Byron could not have made this or that statement to
Captain Medwin, because the statement was erroneous or untrue; but
an anonymous author has no right to be believed in preference to one who speaks in his own
name: there is nothing to show that Mr. Hobhouse might not have been
as mistaken about a date or an epigram as Mr. Medwin; and when we find
him giving us his own version of a fact, and Mr. Medwin asserting that
Lord Byron gave him another, the only impression left upon the
mind of any body who knew his Lordship is, that the fault most probably lay in the loose
corners of the noble Poet’s vivacity. Such is the impression made upon the author of
an unpublished Letter to Mr.
Hobhouse, which has been shown me in print; and he had a right to it. The
reviewer, to my knowledge, is mistaken upon some points, as well as the person he reviews.
The assumption, that nobody can know any thing about Lord Byron but
two or three persons who were conversant with him for a certain space of time, and whom he
spoke of with as little ceremony, and would hardly treat with more confidence than he did a
hundred others, is ludicrous; and can only end, as the criticism has done, in doing no good
either to him or them. . . .
Anonymous,
“Captain Medwin’s Account of Mr. Shelley” in Morning Chronicle
No. 17,336 (9 November 1824)
What man has met another within the last few weeks, and has not asked him
“Have you seen Medwin’s
book?” And who will venture to answer “No?” He might as soon
acknowledge the not having ready Waverley!
Every one is expected to have read “Medwin’s book.” It
is the general topic of conversation; one person reprobates the publication altogether, and
declares he can give no credit to one who has betrayed the confidence of a friend; another
thinks the thing authorized by the intense interest taken in all that relates to so
extraordinary a genius, while a third blames the author, and at the same time thanks his stars
that the author has merited the blame. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
In many of the anecdotes it is
substantially true, and therein consists all its interest; but the friends of Lord Byron will never cease to regret that so bald and meagre
a representation of his conversational talents should have seen the light. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Of the work altogether I can only say, that it contains nothing
new; but only repeats scandals that have been long before the public, and many of
which have been refuted. The very falsehood is not original. Every scrap of
literary or fashionable chit-chat, that the author could collect from the second
classes of society, among whom his lot of life has been cast, he has thrust into
the mouth of Lord Byron. If Captain Medwin had the slightest acquaintance with
the literature of the day, or had ever mixed in society, the noble poet must have
been to him the dullest of all companions; for his conversation would have conveyed
nothing but sentiments that he had already read, and stories he was weary of
hearing repeated. That they were, however, taken from Lord
Byron’s mouth, is impossible; his language was as choice as
his words were few; and he would as soon have allowed Captain
Medwin to dedicate his novel to him, the extreme case we conceive,
as talk of a “lady’s being of a genteel figure,”—a
word that has long been exploded by all but the apprentices of Cheapside, and the
milliners of Cranbourne-alley—or check the criticisms of his friend, by the
exclamation of “There, you’re going it again!” . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
The only publications that contained any thing at once new and true
respecting Lord Byron were, Dallas’s Recollections, the Conversations by
Captain Medwin, and Parry’s and Gamba’s Accounts of his Last Days. A good deal of the real
character of his Lordship, though not always as the writer viewed it, may be gathered from
most of them; particularly the first two. . . .
John Galt,
“Pot versus Kettle” in Fraser’s Magazine
Vol. 2
No. 11 (December 1830)
But, to end this Pot and Kettle jostle, I will state my opinion of Captain Medwin’s Conversations in
another form. I believe much of what he states, to have been actually said to him by Lord Byron; but his Lordship took such pleasure in mystification,
that it is probable he intentionally distorted and magnified many of the things he related,
apprehending they were likely to be made public. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Captain Medwin indisputably possessed great
opportunities of seeing and hearing Lord Byron.
He was a cousin of Byshe Shelley. This was
his ground of introduction; and none can doubt of the intimacy to which he was
admitted, who has heard that he once presumed so far as to transgress the orders of
the noble poet, and take a volume from the table of his study. The domestic, who
had seen and remonstrated against the act, inquired of his master what course was
to be adopted on the repetition of a similar offence. The reply was most laconic:
“Kick his ——.” After this instance of the
intimate footing on which Captain Medwin was received by
Lord Byron—an instance which has been communicated
by the domestic himself—who shall question the habits of
familiarity—even of that too great familiarity which breeds
contempt—that subsisted between the parties? . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
We cannot, however, conclude, without noticing his
Cockney admiration of Byron’s personal appearance. It is,
indeed, quite laughable, to hear so much said, both in print and society, of his
Lordship’s beauty. He was, in truth, in no respect particularly handsome, and his
busts and portraits bear testimony to the fact. His forehead was rather noble certainly,
and the general cast of his physiognomy was genteel and Grecian. When lighted up with his
wonted good humour, there was a pleasing archness in his countenance that gave effect and
felicity to his wit and apothegms; but ever and anon he had a habit of knitting his brows
into misanthropic frowns little calculated to bespeak affection. In his person he was
slight, but well formed, and his lameness was scarcely observable. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
The invitation to the Genevese professor did not
come from lord Byron; it was an imprudent liberty taken by his
domestic physician, and lord
Byron was not detained from the dinner-table by the wind. He staid away
on purpose, saying to the doctor, “as you asked these guests yourself, you may
entertain them yourself.”
. . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Continued]” in New Times
No. 8188 (26 October 1824)
A second time he left his native country, and under even worse auspices
than before. He had become more its enemy. He had out of spite and vexation undervalued its
glories, depreciated the immortal honour of triumphs never equalled in history, libelled
its Sovereign, insulted its religion. violated its morals. He felt himself condemned by the
wise and good alike for his private and public conduct: and against all this he had to
set—what? the consciousness of talents abused, and of a poetical reputation
exaggerated and ephemeral. Had he been possessed with the genuine love of honest
fame—a secondary motive to virtue at the best—yet had he felt this desire he
would have nobly attempted the conquest of his passions: he would have tried to raise his
moral to a level with his intellectual being. He did no such thing. He returned “like
a dog to the vomit,” to his old degradations and obscenities. . . .
H. —,
“Duel between Captain Stackpoole and Lieut. Cecil” in Literary Chronicle
No. 288 (20 November 1824)
The whole of this statement, so far as relates to the duel, I can positively
contradict, as no person is better acquainted with the circumstances than myself. Lieutenant,
afterwards Capt. Cecil, was my intimate friend, with whom I have been for
months together in daily intercourse. He was for some weeks a guest in my house, previously to
his going out on promotion to the West Indies. In the various conversations I have had with him
on the subject of duelling, he has invariably deprecated the system, and I have often heard him
say, that he had never fired a pistol at a target in his whole life, and that such a practice
was abhorrent to his feelings; so much, then, for the assertion that my
friend practised daily for three years; and as to Cecil being a quick shot
and firing first, they both fired together by signal. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Continued]” in New Times
No. 8188 (26 October 1824)
If we rightly understand Captain Medwin, Lord
Byron down to the moment of his sailing for
Greece, was living in double adultery with a married Italian woman;
and to make the picture still more revolting, her father and her brother were the panders
to her lust!—If this be not the plain meaning of Captain Medwin’s history of the Countess Guiccioli, her father
Count Gamba and his
son, in pages 22, 23, 24, 28, 29, and 234, it is extremely necessary that the Captain
should forthwith publish an explanation of those pages; for in no other sense can we
understand them. . . .
Editor of the Courier,
“Byron and Medwin's Conversations” in The Courier
No. 10,287 (3 November 1824)
Byron was what every man must be
who surrenders himself wholly to the impulse of his passions. This impulse he sought neither to
regulate nor control; and their consequences whatever pain, or degradation, or misery, they
might carry to the bosoms of others, became for him the material of a sarcasm or a jest.
Dismissing, altogether, for a moment, the immorality of his amours, can any thing be more
disgusting, than the heartless and libertine manner in which he spoke of them? It would seem,
almost, as if he sought an affair of gallantry, only for the pitiful and profligate triumph of
boasting of it. Love he evidently never felt, though he could describe it with such impassioned
eloquence: perhaps upon the same principle that Rousseau declared, if he wished to write a powerful
apostrophe to liberty, he could do it best in one of the dungeons of the Bastille. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
A long speech on the subject of madame
Guiccioli, and on the politics of Ravenna, is put into lord
Byron’s mouth, the authenticity of which may be judged of by the
following lists of misstatements, which lord Byron never could
have made. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Concluded]” in New Times
No. 8189 (27 October 1824)
Accordingly he went to Italy, and there he became a
Carbonaro.—“I had a magazine of one hundred stand of arms in my
house,”—“I had received a very high degree, without passing through
the intermediate ranks.” (p. 32.) Thus was an English Peer acting the secret
traitor, in a foreign State: and all for the good of mankind in general! It did not enter
into Lord Byron’s
thoughts that to be a true philanthropist a man ought to discharge well the
domestic and the patriotic duties. As to the former, he confesses himself a spendthrift, a
debauchee, and an adulterer; as to the latter, he voluntary forswears his native soil; he
impeaches his country’s honest fame; he even forbids his daughter Allegra to marry an Englishman;
(p. 98.); and he seems to think that to prove his patriotism it is only necessary to insult
the Monarch, vilify the leading Members of Government, foment disaffection, and treat
loyalty as a crime. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
In page 32, speaking of his residence at Venice, Lord
Byron is represented as saying, “The Austrian
Government would have arrested me, but no one betrayed me; indeed there was
nothing to betray.” Four lines above he says, “I had a
magazine of one hundred stand of arms in my house, when everything was ripe
for revolt.” How do these things agree? . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
It did not occur at this time; it happened five
months before.
He was a persecutor of the carbonari, and it was suspected that he was killed by
a carbonaro.
The commandant was at the head of the police, and directed the police against the
Carbonari. The whole of what is put into lord Byron’s
mouth, as to lord Byron, is a romance—the truth is as
follows: It was eight o’clock in the evening—lord
Byron was going into his bed-room to change his neck-cloth, in order to
walk to an evening conversazione, accompanied by his servant, Battista Faisieri. He heard a musket shot, and he sent
Battista to inquire the cause. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Mr. Moore had no little boy with him at Venice.
Lord Byron never said, here are 20001.
for you my young friend—he never did fix any price which his MSS. might be likely
to procure.
Mr. Moore did make an observation to lord
Byron upon receiving the Memoirs, which gave rise to the story that has accordingly been made part
of the Conversations. After such a mis-statement of
lord Byron’s words on the delivery of the MSS. to
Mr Moore’s little boy, to
quote any other part of the fabrication respecting these Memoirs would give it
unmerited importance. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Continued]” in New Times
No. 8188 (26 October 1824)
Lord Byron talks of his own
Memoirs as “a good lesson to young
men,” in shewing them “the fatal consequences of
dissipation”—he says, “there are very few
licentious adventures of my own, or scandalous anecdotes that will affect others in the
book.”—“There are few parts that may not and none that will not be
read by women:” (p. 35.) and he says, moreover, that they have been
read—and transcribed too by Lady Burghersh! (p. 34.) But this by the bye—However, according
to his view of the utility of these Memoirs, licentiousness and dissipation are evil
things, and lead to fatal consequences. Why then make them the constant theme of Poetry?
Why recommend them to the young and innocent by the charms of
verse?— . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Captain Medwin’s account of his lordship’s
marriage and separation, is, among other things, as we have already intimated, in substance
true;—but some of the incidents are much better told by the poet in Don Juan, which, however, we have, of course, too much regard for
the morality of our readers to quote; but we refer those who dare venture on the experiment, to
the first canto. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
It is true that Lord Byron first
saw Miss Milbank at Lady Melbourne’s; but at the time of his introduction, he was
not, I am almost certain, acquainted with them; and I am quite certain that the
author of the Irish Melodies
was not of the party. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Where has Captain Medwin
lived? Is this the description of any woman of fashion in this country since the
reign of long ruffles and hoop petticoats?—but, above all, is it possible to
conceive any resemblance between this portrait and the individuals who have, at any
period, mingled in the society of Melbourne House? . . .
[John Wilson et. al.],
“Noctes Ambrosianae XVII” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
O dear!—Well, Hogg, since you will have
it, I think Douglas Kinnaird and Hobhouse are bound to tell us whether there be any truth, and how much, in this story
about the declaration signed by Sir
Ralph. I think they, as friends of Lord Byron, must
do this—and, since so much has been said about these matters, I think Lady Byron’s letter—the “dearest duck” one I
mean—should really be forthcoming, if her Ladyship’s friends wish to stand fair
coram populo. At present we have nothing but the
loose talk of society to go upon, and certainly, most certainly, if the things that are said be
true, there must be thorough explanation from some quarter, or the tide will continue, as it has
assuredly begun, to flow in a direction very opposite to what we for years were accustomed to. Sir,
they must explain this business of the letter. You have, of course, heard about the invitation it
contained—the warm affectionate invitation to K——; you have heard of the
house-wife-like account of certain domestic conveniences there; you have heard of the hair-tearing
scene, as described by the wife of this Fletcher—you
have heard of the consolations of Mrs. C——; you
have heard of the injunctions “not to be again naughty;” you have heard of the very last
thing which preceded their valediction—you have heard of all this and we have all heard that
these things were followed up by a cool and deliberate declaration, that all these endearments were
meant “only to soothe a madman!” . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Lord and lady Byron did not give
dinner-parties; they had not separate carriages; they did not launch out into any
extravagance. The whole of lady Byron’s fortune was
put into settlement, and could not be melted away. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
P. 40, “Imagine my astonishment to receive,
immediately on her (Lady Byron’s) arrival in
London, a few lines from her father,” &c. Lady Byron went
from London to her father’s seat in Yorkshire,
her husband remaining in Piccadilly. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
It was not on lady
Byron’s arrival in London that Sir R.
Noel wrote the letter to lord Byron. It was on
lady Byron’s arrival at Kirby-Mallory in Leicestershire,
that her father wrote to lord Byron. Sir
Ralph’s letter was a long letter, not a few lines, and it began,
“My Lord,” not “Sir.” It was dated Feb. 2, 1816. . . .
Jonathan Oldworth,
“Byron's Biographers and Grizzeldina” in Literary Chronicle
No. 289 (27 November 1824)
It may he said, “that men of great refinement, who are
accustomed to consider women as angels,—poets who call them hourii, peri, &c. cannot
reconcile themselves to the idea that such ‘creatures of the element,’ live on
mutton.”—It may be so, but, in that case, such super-expecting personages ought never to have engaged in marriage. which, after all, is an earthly
contract, much incommoded with the ‘ills that flesh is heir to.’ God help the
woman, say I, who is tied to a man that will not rejoice in seeing her eat when she is hungry,
and desire even to tempt her appetite when she is not,—an event which will inevitably
happen to a being so delicately constructed, yet ordained by nature to certain weakness and
suffering, and to require the cherishing cares of her partner. If a man is too refined and
fastidious for—his homely, but manly duty,—if he is, unhappily, so constituted, by
some inherent principle of meanness and cruelty in his nature, as to be incapable of it, he may
be the charm of the hour to some women, and the prey of others; and ’tis as well that he
should wander among the wicked, to punish and be punished; for never should he presume to enter
into a connection which is formed for life, and may affect eternity: however he may be gifted in
mind or person, he is incapable of the sacred and endearing duties which belong to the husband
and the father. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
P. 42,
“I was standing before the fire, ruminating upon the embarrassment
of my affairs, when Lady Byron came up to me and said,
‘Byron, am I in your way?’ To which I replied, ‘Damnably!’ The answer was, “That
you are, indeed,” as
Byron told Tom
Moore and others. The cold severity of the reply is in harmony
with the general manners and character of the poet—the oath has a
military raciness about it that smacks of the captain of dragoons. . . .
Anonymous,
“Mrs. Mardyn” in Morning Post
No. 16,811 (6 November 1824)
Captain Medwin’s recent
publication has happily cleared
the character of this much-injured Lady, in so decided and unequivocal a manner, that the most
inveterate malignity no longer can venture a reflection. The slanderous rumour, which so long
and cruelty coupled her name with that of Lord Byron, was, in its origin, a misapprehension wholly inexplicable. It
now is proved that his Lordship never met Mrs. Mardyn out of the Green-room of Drury-lane
Theatre, and even there scarcely ever noticed her beyond the mere compliment of a passing bow.
Nevertheless, utterly unfounded as that rumour actually was, at one time, it obtained so
general a credit, that both the reputation and the feelings of its innocent victim were
outraged by it to the direst extreme. . . .
Q in the Corner,
“Lord Byron and Mrs. Mardyn” in Morning Chronicle
No. 17,336 (9 November 1824)
With respect to Lord Byron’s conduct,
whatever may be said to the contrary by his Companions and Biographers, there are too many
persons privy to it to admit of any doubt of the truth of it, both before his marriage at
Seaham and immediately after it, and during his visit to Halnaby; and which was greatly
aggravated by his behaviour whilst he resided in Piccadilly. His abuse to Lady Byron, of her family, and especially of that most amiable and
excellent individual her father, was disgraceful to his
character as a Nobleman and a Gentleman; and his recently-acquired friends will only shew their
good sense and discretion, before they attempt any further illustrations of his life and
character, by forbearing to press much further their justifications of his conduct in these
respects. There are many honourable individuals who took a lively interest in his
Lordship’s happiness and welfare, among them Mr. H—— and
Mr. W——, but all their efforts to controul his temper and
behaviour were unavailing; and although the public may long continue to admire some of his
publications, yet his private life and character can never be esteemed or valued by them. . . .
Q in the Corner,
“Lord Byron and Mrs. Mardyn” in Morning Chronicle
No. 17,336 (9 November 1824)
If the writer
would dare speak out, he would no doubt revive the somewhat stale fabrication of the
differences between Lord Byron and his Lady, arising out of an intimacy with Mrs. Mardyn; than which nothing can be more false, as most
of his Lordship’s personal friends can, if they please, testify. That the unhappy
occurrence was accelerated by some symptoms of jealousy on the part of Lady
B. there is no doubt, and that they were occasioned by the accidental visit
of an Actress is equally true; but the visitant is as much unlike Mrs.
M. in person as it is possible any two persons can be to each other; suffice
it to say, she is still a member of one of the London Theatres, and the mother of several
children. The great offence of Lord B. on the occasion alluded to was,
his ordering his carriage to the door of his own house to convey the Lady home, free from
the inclemency of a dreadful storm, which circumstance being made known to Lady
B. by some officious domestic spy,
she in a fit of jealousy hurried down stairs with her infant in her arms, seated herself in
the carriage, and drove off to Doctors’ Commons to consult with a Proctor on the
proper mode of proceeding. Such is the accredited fact, and it is but fair Mrs.
Mardyn should be exculpated from the serious charge of having produced the
unhappy difference, although (except for your private information) I think it unnecessary
to give the name of the real offender. . . .
[William Jerdan?],
“Medwin’s Byron’s Conversations” in Literary Gazette
No. 408 (13 November 1824)
At page 43, his Lordship equally denies taking part in any intrigues with
Mrs. Mardyn; and we observe it stated in the
newspapers, that the scandal having thus been blown away, that lady has returned to London
whence it had driven her. We were not aware that pretty actresses, especially those who
survived the Drury Lane Managing Committees, were so sensitive: we could name half-a-dozen
who would not be frightened from town for any period beyond a few months, by any such idle
rumours. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Here, sir, I am justified in asserting, that no act of Lady Byron’s, or of any of her friends, ever
afforded the slightest grounds for such an accusation. There was no event that ever
occurred during the period of Lord and Lady Byron’s
living together, that could, by the ingenuity of malice, be interpreted and
exaggerated into the imputation of so foul a perfidy. This is a slander without the
least shadow of foundation, and Mrs Leigh is
imperiously called upon to break silence on this occasion, and protect the fair and
noble character of Lady Byron from the injury to which it is
exposed by the groundless calumnies of the malevolent. But to continue:— . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Is it possible that this wicked misrepresentation of an act of the
kindest conjugal attention could have emanated from Lord
Byron?—I knew him in boyhood and in youth; generous and brave;
affectionate, though passionate; and I never can believe that he was guilty of the
falsehood that is mingled with the relation of the act of tenderness on which this
calumny is raised. The simple fact is as follows:—Lord
Byron was evidently extremely ill. He was impatient of all question
on the nature of his disorder. Lady Byron,
observing the temper of her husband, but at the same time actuated by a
wife’s solicitude, requested the medical gentleman who attended herself to
observe his symptoms, and take the advice of Dr
Bailey respecting them. Her wishes were complied with, and that
great physician urged the necessity of his having an immediate interview with
Lord Byron, stating, that if the symptoms of his case were
accurately reported, there was no doubt of the patient’s being threatened
with an attack of water on the brain. Under the impression of these fears,
Dr Bailey was introduced to Lord
Byron; and after some conversation, found that his surmises had been
incorrect, and that there was no cause for alarm. On this trait of affectionate
regard, has been raised and disseminated, the only anecdote against Lady
Byron, that has any pretence to a foundation of truth! . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Continued]” in New Times
No. 8188 (26 October 1824)
Lord Byron accuses his Lady of conduct which implies no great affection on
her part; but he never pretends to throw out the slightest insinuation against her purity;
and even in the matters of which he complains, he says “she was the tool of
others.” Into matrimonial disputes of this kind the reasonable part of the world will
never inquire. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Captain Medwin writes, page 45,
“You ask if Lady Byron ever
loved me—I have answered that already—No!” If these
were indeed the words of Lord Byron, his
verses on their separation, and many expressions in his suppressed Memoirs, declare that he had not always been of
this opinion. He was one well versed in subjects of this nature; he was skilful
from experience, and not likely to have been deceived; and on Lady Byron’s quitting him, when Hobhouse, after reading the answer she had
sent to a letter, soliciting her return, calmly folded it up, and said,
“She no longer loves you,”—Byron has written and
said, that the suggestion of so great an evil came as a thunder-stroke upon
him! . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
The Examiner was not the only paper that defended lord Byron. The Morning Chronicle was a zealous advocate of
his lordship; and Mr. Perry, the editor, had a
personal altercation with Sir R. Noel on the
subject. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
But Newstead had been parted with long before their marriage. If we recollect
rightly, it was first sold in 1813, (perhaps in 1812,) for L.130,000. The purchaser afterwards
paid a forfeit, and gave up the bargain. The estate was again sold, and the greater part of the
money vested in trustees, for the jointure of Lady Byron.
His Lordship may have regretted the sale of the Abbey, but it assuredly was not on account of
anything connected with his unfortunate marriage that he was induced to part with it. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron” in New Times
No. 8187 (25 October 1825)
These broils must have been extremely violent,
to have made so deep an impression on a child of so tender an age: and nothing could be
more injudicious than his mother’s impressing him with the idea that profligacy ran
in his blood, an opinion which served to reconcile him to his vices throughout life.
“Before I married,” says he, “I shewed some of the blood of my
ancestors. It is ridiculous to say we do not inherit our passions, as well as the gout
or any other disorder.” (p. 53.) So flattering is the unction which men
willingly lay to their souls! . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
It does not appear from this that Medwin was sure the Miss Gordon
alluded to was the mother of Lord Byron. But, whatever
were the follies of his lordship’s father, it is well known, notwithstanding the love
which the ill-fated poet cherished for his mother, that there was little in her manners,
conduct, or conversation, calculated to repress the ancestral impulses of his blood. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
The review on the Hours of Idleness appeared in 1808-9. The Curse of Minerva was written and
printed in 1812. The occasion of the poem was, the mutilation of the Parthenon, which
lord Byron had himself seen, and which, but not a dislike to
Scotland, gave birth to the Curse of
Minerva. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
In page 57, The Curse of Minerva is described as ha-ving been written about the same time with the Hours of
Idleness. It was written at Athens. I have Lord
Byron’s own authority for this assertion. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
The locket mentioned in p. 60, if it
be the same he wore in 1813, containing a lock of fair soft hair, with a golden
skull and cross-bones placed upon it, was not a memorial of this attachment.
The hair was of a fair girl, who died before his passion had departed, and
whose name I could never prevail on him to mention. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
By the way, the compiler of this quarto libel on all
persons whose names were ever brought into collision with that of Byron, has a knack of seasoning his stories with
these vulgar expletives, and sometimes in a manner most peculiarly unfortunate.
In page 62, we have an oath attributed to the amiable and excellent Lord Calthorpe, whose manners and conversation,
we can assure Captain Medwin, are, and
always have been, those of a gentleman, and, even as a school-boy, were
untainted by the low-bred vice of swearing. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
I had nearly closed this letter, and omitted mentioning the
mis-statement which Captain Medwin had
made respecting Mrs. Chaworth.
“Had I married Miss C——, perhaps the whole
tenor of my life would have been different. She jilted me,
however.” p. 62. This is totally false. The match was
broken off by that lady, but on the . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
This story was told in a magazine or newspaper of
the day on some slight foundation—but the details here put into lord
Byron’s mouth are all untrue. Lord Byron did
not establish the order, or ever call himself abbot of the skull—they were not
twelve or indeed any regularly-named members of any order—some dresses were sent
from a masquerade warehouse, but not black—no chapter was held or talked of—the dresses were never put
on more than once or twice—and many a prime joke was not
cut at the expense of the skull. Those who knew lord Byron
will detect at once the vulgarisms of the pretended conversation. The story as dressed
up for sale is a fiction. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
The story of keeping a girl in boy’s clothes, and passing her for his
cousin, lest his mother should hear of it, Lord Byron has
had abundant cause to repent; but the affair itself had a most ludicrous conclusion, for the
young gentleman miscarried in a certain family hotel in Bond Street, to the inexpressible
horror of the chambermaids, and the consternation of all the house. By the way, this
style of keeping a mistress, must, we rather think, be the most exemplary; for it has been said
that an arithmetical member of the House of Commons, during his voyage in the Levant, carried
his with him in male attire. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
We suspect that Byron had some presentiment
of the object of Medwin’s solicitude for his
company, and some anticipation, too, of the alarm and laughter which his gossiping would
produce when published, particularly when he told him of the three married women, who, on a
wedding visit to Lady Byron, met in the same room, and whom
he had “known to be all birds of the same nest.” To discover the names of
these worthy matrons, we doubt not is the object of all the games of twenty questions now
playing in the fashionable world; we are not, however, disposed to disbelieve the fact; at the
same time, it is proper to observe, that one of the worst effects of Lord
Byron’s passion for fame, was an affectation of his being more profligate
than he really was; and we state this emphatically, while, in justice to the ladies of England,
we enter our protest against the general calumny of the following passage, in which his
lordship is made to say, . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron” in New Times
No. 8187 (25 October 1825)
To palliate the abandoned depravity of his own individual conduct, he
asserts that it is almost universal in his rank of life. I have seen, says he, “a
great deal of Italian society, and have swum in a gondola, but nothing could equal the
profligacy of high life in England.”—(p. 67.)—We do not pretend to
question the existence of vice in that portion or the community; but we will venture to
say, it by no means approaches the hideous immorality here pictured. And if it
did—what then? Would it prove that this was the way to form a Poet? Is it from the
boson of libidinous sensuality that the pure inspirations of Poetry can arise? . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
As far, perhaps, as Lord Byron spoke from his
own experience, and from the report of his associates, we are not inclined to dispute the
accusation; but is it not perfectly well-known, that, in England, society in high life is
divided into two classes, as distinct and separate from each other as any two castes can well
be? With the one, both manners and minds are cherished in the most graceful
excellence—domestic virtue combined with all that is elegant, gentle, and beneficent, as
fair and free from stain as habitual honour in its highest acceptation can imply. To this class
Lord Byron had not access. His previous
family circumstances, and the impress which those circumstances had left upon himself, made him
to be regarded with distrust by the members of that illustrious and true English nobility.
There was a hereditary taint on his name, and the early indications of his own undisciplined passions had rendered him inadmissible from the beginning
of his career. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
His affair with Lady
******—“double his age, and the mother of several
children”—he might have added by as many different fathers, was truly absurd. The
folly of it lost him a sincere friend. At no time could he bear the slightest
admonition,—it only instigated him to aggravate his fault, and his friends were in
consequence obliged to use the utmost address with him. In that affair, the gentleman alluded
to, in speaking with him of a certain reputation, which was damaged about that time, said,
“By the by, my Lord, it is reported you have become a contributor to the Harleian
Miscellany.” The result was a sullen answer, which ended in an estrangement, that
broke up their intercourse. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
The answer to Scroope Davis, when he
wanted to borrow Byron’s pistols to shoot himself, is
one of the few characteristic things in Captain
Medwin’s Journal. In such, his Lordship excelled. Beppo, of all his works, affords the best specimens of the style
of his conversational humour. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
Now that Lord Byron was an excellent horseman, is
true:—that he never read a line of “Metastasio,“ I doubt, and should have doubted it, if he had said as
much; for “Metastasio,” an author who had obtained great
reputation with no very great genius, was precisely the sort of man to pique his curiosity;
and he must often have fallen in his way:—but that he “pronounced Italian like
a native,” I deny without fear of contradiction from any body who is at all
acquainted with that language. He spoke it fluently; but his pronunciation was as poor as
that of most foreigners, and worse than many; for he scarcely opened his mouth. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron” in New Times
No. 8187 (25 October 1825)
Singular enough it is, that he should persuade himself his writings tended to
exalt the female sex! (p. 71.) Alas, alas! if females are to be exalted by prostitution, let
them read the works of Lord Byron
—let them dwell upon and admire Gulnare, “as cruel (to use the words of an eloquent critic) as
Lady Macbeth, and as wanton as
the wife of Potiphar”—let them copy the
incestuous guilt of Parisina—Laura is seduced into sin and misery—Theresa gives to virtue a few farewell tears and becomes
an adulteress—Such are the examples held out to British Mothers, and Wives, and Daughter!
These are the “celestial qualities” with which the imagination of Lord Byron delighted to invest a sex
created for spotless purity and inviolable faith! . . .
Grizzledina,
“Lord Byron, Ladies, and Asmodeus” in Literary Chronicle
No. 288 (20 November 1824)
Mr. Editor,—As it is the fashion, at present, to be very
much interested about everything that concerns Lord
Byron, allow me to quarrel a little with you for your very high encomiums on
Lord B.’s portrait, in your Chronicle a
week or two ago. I am willing to join in all that you may admire about his lordship, with
respect to his boundless and surprising genius; but I think your praise is too unqualified.
I find many faults in him;—in short, how can a genuine and spirited old maid (I
suppose I must call myself so, as I am turned of five-and-twenty), who has always found
great amusement and edification in literary pursuits,—how can she, I say, join
heartily in the admiration of a man who has, on so many occasions, expressed a contemptible
opinion of women? ‘Give a woman,’ says Lord B., ‘a looking-glass and a
few sugar-plums, and she will be satisfied.’ This is really too bad, and, if
ever I should fortunately get married, you shall see, Mr. Editor, or rather my husband
shall see, if I am so easily satisfied. I’ll have the looking-glass and the
sugar-plums, to be sure, as matters of the first importance; but, besides every thing else
that I choose to wish for, I’ll have a library of my own selecting, into which,
notwithstanding Lord Byron’s sneers, I will admit some of his
poems, and, as I am very fond of studying history, I will have all the Scotch novels, and
all the English ones that are historical, for I think it is a great deal pleasanter to
study history under such enticing forms, than in the dry musty old volumes of the
historians themselves; and as to correctness, &c. &c., that is no great matter, as
you know there are always two ways of telling the same story. But this is nothing to the
purpose. . . .
Jonathan Oldworth,
“Byron's Biographers and Grizzeldina” in Literary Chronicle
No. 289 (27 November 1824)
I cannot wonder, however, that any woman takes an
opportunity of giving a wipe at the ‘sugarplums and looking-glass,’ for I find every
one in my own family, from mama to my youngest daughter, is in a state of greet affront on the
subject of doubting the mental abilities of women. Such was the commotion for a few days that I
sought to allay it by putting the Arabian Nights’ tales, and even various Eastern
histories, into their hands, by way of proving that, in all states and families, wives and pretty
girls have, in both north and south, had a very considerable share in disposing of the affairs of
men, let poets say what they may. This did not, however, answer any good end, nor at all clear
the culprit . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Concluded]” in New Times
No. 8189 (27 October 1824)
Cain is
introduced hating his father before he meets with Lucifer; and
Lucifer labours to persuade him to hate God. To understand what
aim Lord Byron had in writing this heavy
work, we should understand what he himself seriously thought on religious subjects; but
Capt. Medwin candidly
confesses, that “it is difficult to judge, from the contradictory nature of his
writings, what the religious opinions of Lord Byron really were;” (p. 74.)
and the Captain seems to have been just as much at a loss to solve this enigma by the laid
of his Lordship’s personal communications. Thus much however is certain, that his
Lordship professed to think it “a pleasant voyage, to float like Pyrrho on a sea of
speculation.” (p. 74.) He thought “religions take their turn:
’twas Jove’s, ’tis
Mahomet’s; and other creeds will rise with other years.” He spoke
with contemptuous indifference of the uses of a building which had been the “shrine
of all Saints and Temple of all Gods, from Jove
to Jesus.” (Childe Harold.) “Yet,”
says Captain Medwin, “his
wavering never amounted to a disbelief in the Divine Founder of
Christianity.” (p. 75.) . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron” in New Times
No. 8187 (25 October 1825)
We shall perhaps be told that
Milton “was a pretty fellow in his day,”
but that the modern method of forming a Poet is much more expeditious and effective. We can now
“gather grapes from thorns, and figs from thistles.” We have a steam
engine power for extracting pure and lofty sentiments from the brothel and the stews: the
“divine volumes of Plato” have long since been ground up anew to furnish paper for Childe Harold: and as for
the precepts of Christian Religion, “no poet (they are Lord
Byron’s words) should be tied down to a
direct profession of faith.” (p. 75.) At least, it will be admitted by the
friends of the New School to be very important to trace the distinction accurately between
their method of cultivating a poetical taste, and that of the old fashioned practitioners. Let
us therefore continue to follow the progress of Lord Byron.
. . .
A Constant Reader,
“[Byron's Devotional Reading]” in The Sun
No. 10,058 (7 December 1824)
Sir—Captain Medwin, in his Conversations of Lord Byron, alludes to a
Religious Work, the perusal of which had a great effect on his Lordship's mind, as it contained
such strong arguments in favour of our Religion, that his Lordship neither could, nor wished to
refute them.—As every circumstance which had any influence over the opinions of
Lord Byron must be
interesting to the Public, permit me, through the medium of your valuable Journal, to request
the Author of the “Conversations,” or one of your
numerous readers who may possess information on the subject, to state the title of the work
above adverted to,—a communication which will give much satisfaction to . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
To shew still farther how little reliance can be placed on Captain Medwin’s report, we would refer to what he is
represented as having said respecting the Turkish girl who was put to death by Ali Pashaw. It is one continued bundle of errors; besides making
Byron use terms and speak of things, which, from his
Lordship’s knowledge of Turkey, he would never have done. The story alluded to is the
fate of Phrosyné, the elegy on whose death is one of the most popular
and pathetic breathings of the modern Grecian muse. Lord Byron often used
to sing the melody. Instead of giving Captain Medwin’s version of
the tale, we shall relate the real story, remarking, in the first place, that the affair
happened long before Lord Byron’s first voyage to Greece, although,
as it is reported in the Notes of his Conversations, it might be
thought his Lordship was in that country at the time. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
A long circumstantial story is here told by the
pretended lord Byron, which is detected at once by one word. The
real lord Byron could never have talked of the Rajah of Zanina (Joannina). In Hindostan a Rajah is a prince in European
Turkey a rayah is tributary subject. Those, indeed, acquainted with lord
Byron’s style of conversation, would, without this silly blunder,
detect the imposition at once. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Captain Medwin’s account of the incident on which
“The Giaour” is founded, is
equally erroneously stated. He makes Lord Byron say, that
the Marquis of Sligo reminded him of it in England, and
wondered he had not authenticated the circumstances in the preface. If we remember the matter
rightly, Lord Byron requested the Marquis to state, in writing, his
recollection of the affair, which he did. But this is a matter of no great consequence, for, in
fact, the whole story owes all its interest to the poetical embellishments. The girl in
question was as common as any of the married ladies, by whose conduct Lord
Byron is represented as libelling the morals of the British nobility; and the
probability is, that her general incontinence with all sorts of travellers, and not her
particular liaison with him, was the cause of the customary doom, from which she was rescued by his Lordship. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
This story immediately follows the other, and is got
up with similar accuracy; no other contradiction is necessary than to mention, that the
girl whose life lord Byron saved at Athens, was no an object of
his lordship’s attachment-but of that of his lordship’s Turkish servant.
. . .
[William Jerdan?],
“Medwin’s Byron’s Conversations” in Literary Gazette
No. 408 (13 November 1824)
On the subject of Drury Lane management, Lord B.
declaims against the drudgery of writing for the Stage at all, and disparages not only the
old dramatists, but even Shakespeare. There is no
accounting taste or tastelessness, it is true; and if we may judge from the dramas his
Lordship actually wrote, we would say that he neither condescended to the former nor felt
the latter, for his plays were not made for acting, and have no smack in them of the age of
Shakespeare. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
The Captain, in his ignorance, makes Lord Byron talk, p. 94, 95, of the Fatal Marriage, by Lillo. There is no such tragedy—he means
the Fatal
Curiosity; and in the same paragraph, of the Brother and Sister of Massinger. There is no such
play—probably he means ’Tis Pity then a Whore, by Ford—a masterpiece of its kind, and of
which my late noble school-fellow entertained the highest
admiration. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Concluded]” in New Times
No. 8189 (27 October 1824)
The order of events is
this:—Sometime (perhaps) about the middle of October Mr.
Polidori, a person known to Lord Byron, kills himself in London. This circumstance shortly afterwards
comes to the knowledge of Mr. Murray. Mr. Murray in
a few days more has occasion to write to Lord Byron, and incidentally mention Polidori’s death. A few weeks subsequently Miss
Ada Byron’s birth-day occurs. On that
day the child of an Italian peasant dies. On that day also, Lord Byron takes his usual ride, which happens to lead
him along by this peasant’s cottage. The next day, Mr. Murray’s letter to Lord Byron is delivered in due course or post. And his
Lordship, who cannot believe one word of the Scriptures, believes that in these ordinary
occurrences there is something miraculous! . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
The conversation said to have been held at Diodati
is fictitious.—With the exception of Mr.
Lewis, no one told a tale, and Mrs.
Shelley never saw the late Mr. Lewis in her life.
The Preface to Frankenstein
shows that that story was invented before lord Byron’s and
Mr. Shelley’s tour on the Lake, and
Mr. Lewis did not arrive at Diodati till some time after.
. . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Concluded]” in New Times
No. 8189 (27 October 1824)
And again, “Have you ever had your fortune told? Mrs. Williams told mine.—She predicted that
27 and 37 were to be dangerous ages in my life. One has come true. Yes, added I, and
did she not prophesy that you were to die a Monk and a miser? I don’t think (says
his Lordship) these two last very likely; but it was part of her
prediction.” (p. 104.) This last touch is exquisite. The
superstitious man takes just as much of the prophecy as renders it plausible; but for the
credit of the fortuneteller he sinks the rest; and it is only by cross examination that you
can extract from him proof’ that his oracle is false. And this is the great
Lord Byron!
O caecas hominum mentes! . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Mr. Hobhouse was with lord
Byron on his wedding-day: his lordship could not write to him on that
day. This fiction is the more unlucky, as the Conversation-writer afterwards mentions,
that Mr. Hobhouse was with lord Byron on the
day alluded to. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Page 109, “The world will
think I am pleased at this event, (the death of Lady Noel,) but they are much mistaken;” yet at
page 121, is given the bitter epigram that he transmitted to Murray, on hearing, by the same post, of the
fate of his tragedy, and the temporary recovery of Lady
Noel. . . .
John Bertridge Clarke,
“[Thomas Medwin and Charles Wolfe]” in The Times
No. 12,482 (27 October 1824)
Sir.—I beg leave to correct a misstatement contained in Captain Medwin’s late publication, and copied into your journal of this
day, respecting an ode written on the death of Sir
John Moore, and attributed by Captain Medwin to Lord Byron. The author of that very beautiful lyrical poem is a
Mr. Wolfe, who was, at the period of its
composition, a scholar of Trinity College, Dublin. The lines first appeared anonymously in a
Dublin newspaper, and have since been copied into several periodical publications; but, except
to a few friends of Mr. Wolfe, their author was unknown. As they have been
erroneously ascribed to Lord Byron, I think it is right to correct the mistake. Your very
obedient servant, . . .
John Sydney Taylor,
“Lord Byron and the late Rev. Charles Wolfe” in Morning Chronicle
No. 17,327 (29 October 1824)
This being the case, supposing the writer of the poem for ever unknown, it
would not be reasonable to presume Lord Byron was its
author; not even although as many ladies as would equal the number of the Muses and the
Graces conjoined, had each seen a copy of it in his Lordship’s own hand-writing; but
how would the literary conclave have been astonished, had Byron been
enabled to inform them that this poem, so long unclaimed, so much admired, was the
production of one who was totally unknown to fame—one who had never been talked of in
any periodical, whose name had not even been whispered in Albemarle-street or the Row. This person was Charles Wolfe. His talents were only known to the private
circle of his associates. He was one of my earliest and dearest friends. We were
cotemporaries of equal standing in the University of Dublin. Similarity of pursuit created
intimacy. Though sometimes competitors for the same academic honours, [nothing] impaired
our sense of mutual esteem. Wolfe was equally distinguished in the
severe sciences and in polite literature. Emulation, I believe, led him to excel in the
former, but the latter had all his intellectual affection. I well recollect the expression
of mingled diffidence and enthusiasm with which he communicated to me his tribute to the
memory of Sir John Moore. He had then written but
the first and last verses, and had no intention of adding any others. . . .
Algernon Hampden Flint,
“The Verses of the Death of Sir J. Moore” in Morning Post
No. 16,807 (2 November 1824)
Sir—The attempt made by Captain
Medwin to affiliate the above verses on Lord Byron, under the dignified
designation of an “Ode,” has occasioned some discussion in the literary world
respecting their real author. Among the several claims et up for that honour, or perhaps
responsibility, only one I take upon me to assure you is well founded—namely, that on
behalf of “the Rev. Charles
Wolfe,” a poor young Irish Curate, who, as his grave-stone (if he
have one) records, departed this life it seems about two years ago, in the North of Ireland. Of
this at least I am positive, that the “Ode” was neither written by Lord
Byron, Mr. Deacon, nor any other of the persona mentioned in the
Public Papers, except it be Mr. Wolfe, for I
know it to be the production of a young man that in 1816 was a student of Trinity College,
Dublin; although not having been “one of my earliest and dearest friends,”
I do not now clearly recollect his name. A Gentleman
however from Garden-court, in the Temple, who has spun out a long letter for a Morning Paper upon the subject, and declares himself
to have stood in the foregoing relation to the inditer of these verses, asserts the
student’s cognomen to have been Wolfe, and so let it pass.
Still I confess my mind is not satisfied on that point. The Gentleman from Garden-court says
the Poet’s frame was “naturally vigorous and robust,” while I who saw
him in 1816 or 1817, did not then consider him to have any such appearance; but, on the
contrary, to be a slender, rather tall, and studious-looking young man. A person’s size
or strength, I grant, is poor evidence of his genius, though some of his identity, and even for
the latter an uncertain criterion. Mr. Wolfe’s
panegyrist and myself may not, for aught I know, have borne the same proportion in
stature to the fabricator of the “Ode,” and therefore perhaps we pronounce
differently as to his height and weight of muscle. . . .
H. Marshall, M.D.,
“Ode on the Burial of Sir John
Moore” in The Courier
No. 10,287 (3 November 1824)
Sir,—Permit me, through the medium of our highly respectable
journal (which I have chosen as the channel of this communication, from my having been a
subscriber to it for the last fifteen years), to observe, that the statement lately published
in the
Morning Chronicle, the writer of which
ascribes the lines of the burial of Sir John
Moore to Woolf, is false, and as barefaced a fabrication as ever was foisted
on the public. The lines in question are not written by Woolf, nor by
Hailey, nor is Deacoll the author, but they were composed by me. I
published them originally, some years ago, in the
Durham County Advertiser, a journal in which I have at
different times inserted several poetical trifles, as “The
Prisoner’s Prayer to Sleep”—“Lines on the
lamented Death of Benjamin Galley, Esq.” and some other effusions. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
The truth has been already discovered respecting
this ode on the death of sir John
Moore, and those who knew lord Byron will appreciate
the vulgar speculation as to the reason of his concealing his being the author of the
poem. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Lord Byron and Mr. Ekenhead
did undertake this feat some time before—they did not “put it
off” in consequence of the coldness of the water—they gave it up in
consequence of the coldness of the water, when about half over the strait. If the
Conversation-writer had read the note to lord Byron’s lines
written to commemorate this exploit, he would not have frame this conversation in this
way. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
In 1808, lord Byron was
swimming with the Hon. Mr. Lincoln Stanhope.
Both of them were very nearly drowned; but lord Byron did not
touch Mr. Stanhope; he very judiciously kept aloof, but cried out
to him to keep up his spirits. The by-standers sent in some boatmen with ropes tied
round them, who at last dragged lord Byron and his friend from the
surf, and saved their lives. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Page 119, Of Marino
Faliero Lord Byron is made to
say, “So much was I averse from its being acted, that the moment I
heard of the intention of the Managers, I applied for an injunction, but
the Chancellor refused to interfere.” The Chancellor could not do what the law gave him no
authority for doing. But how could Lord Byron apply for an
injunction? The tragedy was performed at Drury Lane three
days after its publication. Murray applied for an injunction, but as
Byron was at Venice, the application could not very
easily have been made at his suggestion. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
He represents, p. 122, Milman as the author of the article on Shelley in the Quarterly
Review. This must be a vague guess of Captain Medwin’s, for Lord Byron
knew from the best authority that it was written by a nephew of Coleridge. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
It will hardly be believed, but it is true, that this drinking song, which the
writer cannot resist “presenting the public with,” as being written by
lord Byron one morning, or perhaps one evening, (conscientious
alternative) after one of our dinners at Pisa, was presented to the public just as far
back as 1809. The song is printed in a volume of miscellanies, edited by Mr.
Hobhouse, to which lord Byron was a contributor,
under the signature L. B. If this be not sufficient to stamp the true character of
these Conversations, perhaps the next specimen may; it is, if
possible, more astonishing. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
Captain Medwin afterwards tells us that the noble
poet’s “voice had a flexibility, a variety in its tones, a power and a
pathos beyond any I ever heard.”—This is harmless, as an instance of
the effect which his Lordship had upon the Captain; but from all I ever heard of it, I
should form a very different judgment. His voice, as far as I was acquainted with it,
though not incapable of loudness, nor unmelodious in its deeper tones, was confined. He
made an effort when he threw it out. The sound of it in ordinary,
except when he laughed, was petty and lugubrious. He spoke inwardly, and slurred over his
syllables, perhaps in order to hide the burr. In short, it was as
much the reverse of any thing various and powerful, as his enunciation was of any thing
articulate. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Who does not know that this famous speech, which the
Conversation-writer made his lord Byron say, was made in the Old
Bailey—was uttered by the Mayor of Paris, on his way to the scaffold? That the
real lord Byron should make so ludicrous a blunder is morally
impossible. . . .
[William Jerdan?],
“Medwin’s Byron’s Conversations” in Literary Gazette
No. 408 (13 November 1824)
The chief allegations of plagiarism brought against Lord
Byron, were produced in the
Literary Gazette; and at the time we were
vehemently assailed by the Noble Poet’s friends and admirers, who, we will confess,
seemed tor a while to have a majority of the public on their side. It was, however, a literary
inquiry of considerable interest; and as our proofs were multiplied, and strong instances
(which admitted of no explaining away) were adduced, other writers began to adopt the same
opinion, and without denying the extraordinary genius of Lord B. (which no person of common
sense could every question, and which was carrying our arguments to a ridiculously extravagant
length) there hardly appeared one review of his Lordship’s new publications, without a
reference more or less distinct to this charge, and without an admission, in degree, that he
was addicted to this practice. It is now evident that he himself allows the fact: after Werner! how could he do otherwise? . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron” in New Times
No. 8187 (25 October 1825)
Yet to this very circumstance he owed his first literary reputation. Stung
to the quick, he resolved to sting in return; and produced in a year the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.>
This satire was virulence itself, unseasoned with a grain of justice; but the world loves
satire; and the trait which gave the greatest point and popularity to this work was one for
which his Lordship now admits there was no ground at all—an imputation on the courage
of Mr. Jeffrey and
Mr. Moore. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Is it possible that Lord Byron could
talk such ignorant and confused trash as this?—Is not Jeffrey a lawyer, and one of renown, too? Did Jeffrey
disown the article in any way to Lord Byron? Of course with that
critic we hold no communion; but we would ask him if he did not write the article, and did
not brag that he had done it one morning before breakfast? Besides, is it at all consistent
with the character of that gentleman, or with Byron’s opinion of
him, to represent him as covenanting to gratify his Lordship’s spleen by an act of
treachery? As for the lawyer alluded to, we believe it is Brougham, whose first cause of offence to Byron was an
opinion of him delivered at the Duke of
Devonshire’s table, when the satire on “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers” made its
appearance—which opinion some Medwin of the
party—“some d—d good-natured friend”—reported to
his Lordship. The second was in something, which it is said, perhaps falsely, that
Brougham, who was counsel for Lady
Byron, had reported in society from his brief. . . .
Robert Southey,
“Mr. Southey and Lord Byron” in The Courier
No. 10,321 (13 December 1824)
The reviewal in question I did not write.—Lord Byron might have known this if he had enquired of
Mr. Murray, who would readily have assured him
that I was not the author: and he might have known it from the reviewal itself, where the
writer declares, in plain words, that he was a contemporary of Shelley’s, at Eton. I had no concern in it, directly or indirectly;
but let it not be inferred that, in thus disclaiming that paper, any disapproval of it is
intended. Papers in the Quarterly
Review have been ascribed to me, (those on Keates’s Poems, for
example), which I have heartily condemned, both for their spirit and manner. But, for the
one in question, its composition would be creditable to the most distinguished writer; nor
is there any thing either in the opinions expressed, or in the manner of expressing them,
which a man of just and honourable principles would have hesitated to advance. I would not
have written that part of it which alludes to Mr. Shelley, because,
having met him on familiar terms, and parted with him in kindness, (a feeling of which
Lord Byron had no conception), would have withheld me from
animadverting in that manner upon his conduct. In other respects, the paper contains
nothing that I would not have avowed if I had written, or subscribed, as entirely assenting
to, and approving, it. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Concluded]” in New Times
No. 8189 (27 October 1824)
The truth was, that Mr. Southey had exposed the
wickedness and folly of the “Satanic School” of Poets in a manner that carried
conviction to every mind. The public was with him, and the Satanic poets writhed under the
justice of his severe castigations. On him, therefore, Lord Byron lavished the most violent abuse, nor did he pause a moment
to consider whether it was either true or probable. Every person who has the honor of
knowing Mr. Southey knows him to be a man
of the purest integrity, and of a spirit most honorably independent. But because the
experience of maturer life has taught him to correct, not the vices (for these he never
had) but the delusive hopes and fond imaginations of ardent youth, therefore did
Lord Byron call him a Renegado. Because
his Sovereign conferred on him a well-earned literary honour, to which is attached a
trifling salary, not a twentieth part of what he might gain (like Lord Byron) by “the sweat of his brain,”
therefore did his Lordship call him a “hireling.” Cowardice, ferocity, and many
other vices equally alien to Mr. Southey’s nature, did this Noble Libeller charge on the object
of his fear and his revenge. . . .
[John Wilson et. al.],
“Noctes Ambrosianae XVII” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
I wish I could be quite sure that some part of the beastliness of the book is not
mere bookseller’s business—I mean as to its sins of omission. You
have seen from the newspapers that Master Colburn cancelled
some of the cuts anent our good friend, whom Byron so absurdly calls “the most timorous of all God’s
booksellers.” How shall we be certain that he did not cancel ten thousand things about the
most audacious of all God’s booksellers? . . .
John Murray,
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Courier
No. 10,289 (5 November 1824)
Note.—In the numerous letters received by Mr. Murray yearly from Lord
Byron (who was not accustomed to restrain the expression of his feelings in
writing them), not one has any tendency towards the imputations here thrown out; the
incongruity of which will be evident from the fact of Mr. Murray having
paid at various times, for the copyright of his Lordship’s poems, sums amounting to
upwards of 15,000l.—viz.:— . . .
[Leigh Hunt],
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Examiner
No. 876 (14 November 1824)
Mr. Murray answers, that in
the numerous letters he received from Lord B., who nevertheless always spoke his mind very
freely, there is nothing which would even indicate a feeling of the kind attributed to his
Lordship by Captain Medwin.
He adds, that the “incongruity of these imputations will be evident” from a list he
subjoins of the high prices which he paid the Noble Poet for his copyrights, from Childe Harold to Don Juan, Canto V, inclusive, amounting to all
more than 15,000l. We confess we do not see the conclusiveness of this
pecuniary argument. Mr. Murray might have given a direct denial to the assertion, that he had pleaded
poverty and loss of money by Lord Byron’s
writings—a plea which (if he ever made it) the public would be slow to think either true
or creditable to the maker. . . .
John Murray,
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Courier
No. 10,289 (5 November 1824)
“Dear Murray,—I have copied and cut the third canto of Don Juan into two,
because it was too long, and I tell you this before hand, because, in
case of any reckoning between you and me, these two are only to go for one, as this was the original form, and in fact
the two together are not longer than one of the first! so remember that I have not made
this division to double upon you, but merely to
suppress some tediousness in the aspect of the thing. I should have served you a pretty
trick if I had sent you, for example, Cantos of fifty stanzas each.” . . .
[Leigh Hunt],
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Examiner
No. 876 (14 November 1824)
Lord Byron, in Captain Medwin’s book, is
made to assert, that Mr. Murray first offered him 1000l. a canto for Don Juan , and afterwards reduced it to 500l. on
the plea of piracy, and complained of one canto being divided into two. Mr. Murray meets this by quoting a letter from Lord B.,
in which he expressly announces that the two short cantos, made out of one of the ordinary
length, must only be paid for as one, and begs not to be suspected of a contrivance to get
double pay. This is of course decisive in the bookseller’s favour. . . .
John Murray,
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Courier
No. 10,289 (5 November 1824)
Note.—Mr. Murray
derived no advantage from the proposed agreement, which was by no means of the importance here
ascribed to it, and therefore was never attempted to be carried into effect: the documents
alluded to are still in his possession. . . .
John Murray,
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Courier
No. 10,289 (5 November 1824)
Note.—The words in italic are those which were suppressed
in the two first editions of Captain Medwin’s
book, and which Mr. Murray has received from the publisher
after the foregoing statement was printed. He has only to observe upon the subject, that on
referring to the deed in question no such clause is to be found; that this instrument was
signed in London by the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, as Lord Byron’s procurator, and witnessed by
Richard Williams, Esq., one or the partners in Mr.
Kinnaird’s banking-house; and that the signature of Captain
Medwin is not affixed. . . .
[Leigh Hunt],
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Examiner
No. 876 (14 November 1824)
Every assertion in this passage appears to be false: there is no such clause
in the deed, which moreover was not signed abroad, or witnessed by Captain M. but was signed in
London, and witnessed by the very friend of whom Lord B.
speaks so highly as the guardian of his interests—the Hon.
Douglas Kinnaird! . . .
Anonymous,
“Captain Medwin’s Account of Mr. Shelley” in Morning Chronicle
No. 17,336 (9 November 1824)
One of the many persons mentioned in this volume is Mr.
Murray, and he is mentioned not only unhandsomely, but ambiguously. Asterisks
are introduced, after a half sentence, which serve (like a shrug of the shoulders, and an
elevation of the brows, in conversation) to imply, that more is meant than can be uttered.
Intended to look like mercy; nothing can be more severe. . . .
Editor of Medwin’s Conversations,
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Sun
No. 10,052 (30 November 1824)
“I have just got your letter, and am most anxious to
see Murray’s statement, to which you allude,
but have no chance of it in this out of the world place, unless you send it to me. As to
replying to it, I must (before making up my mind) see what he says. On the subject of
Mr. Murray I have been most cautious not to say one word more than
my Journal warrants; I have been examining it to day. My notes about the copyright of Cain, Two Foscari, Sardanapalus,
are:— . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Concluded]” in New Times
No. 8189 (27 October 1824)
When Cain
was published, Lord Byron said of
the publisher: “He is threatened with a prosecution by the Anti-constitutional
Society. I don’t believe they will venture to attack him: if they do, I shall go home, and make my own defence.” His Lordship
was misinformed. The Constitutional Society, which Lord Byron (who knew no more of the Constitution than an infant) thought
fit to call Anti-constitutional, was not instituted to prosecute irreligious but seditious
publications, and never threaten to prosecute the publisher of Cain. That Society, however, did prosecute to conviction the
publisher of the Vision of
Judgment, and would assuredly have prosecuted the Author, had he come home;
but that he did not think proper to do. The Vision of Judgment is certainly, without a single exception,
the most infamous production that ever issued from the British Press—infamous for its
blasphemy, for its antinational sentiments, and infamous for its private and personal
malignity. . . .
John Murray,
“Lord Byron and Mr. Murray” in The Courier
No. 10,289 (5 November 1824)
Note.—The passage about the Admiralty is unfounded in
fact, and no otherwise deserving of notice than to mark its absurdity; and with regard to the
“Quarterly Review,” his
Lordship well knew that it was established, and constantly conducted, on
principles which absolutely excluded Mr. Murray from all
such interference and influence as is implied in the “Conversations.” . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Concluded]” in New Times
No. 8189 (27 October 1824)
We ought not to omit noticing the more gratuitous abuse of
Mr. Wordsworth, which
is equally and utterly false. “It is satisfactory to reflect,” says
Lord Byron of this Gentleman,
“that where a man becomes a hireling and loses his independence, he loses also
the faculty of writing well.” (p. 192.) But Mr. Wordsworth is not a hireling, and has not lost
his independence. His Lordship continues—“The republican trio (meaning
Messrs. Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge), when they began to publish in
common were to have had a community of all things.” (p. 194.) But they never
did publish in common, and they never were to have had a community of any thing. This shews
that Lord Byron satirised without knowing,
and probably without caring, whether he was right or wrong. . . .
Robert Southey,
“Mr. Southey and Lord Byron” in The Courier
No. 10,321 (13 December 1824)
Contention with a generous and honourable opponent leads naturally to
esteem, and probably to friendship; but, next to such an antagonist, an enemy like
Lord Byron is to be desired; one, who by his conduct in the
contest, divests himself of every claim to respect; one, whose baseness is such as to
sanctify the vindictive feeling that it provokes, and upon whom the act of taking
vengeance, is that of administering justice. I answered him as he deserved to he answered,
and the effect which that answer produced upon his Lordship, has been described by his
faithful Chronicler, Capt. Medwin. This is the real
history of what the purveyors of scandal for the public are pleased sometimes to announce
in their advertisements as “Byron’s Controversy with Southey.” What there
was dark and devilish in it belongs to his Lordship; and had I been compelled to resume it
during his life, he, who played the monster in literature, and aimed his blows at women,
should have been treated accordingly. “The Republican Trio,” says
Lord Byron, “when they began to publish in common, were
to have had a community of all things, like the Ancient Britons—to have lived in
a state of nature like savages—and peopled some island of the blest with children
in common like ——. A very pretty Arcadian notion!” I may be
excused for wishing that Lord Byron had published this himself: but
though he is responsible for the atrocious falsehood, he is not for its posthumous
publication. I shall only observe, therefore, that the slander is as worthy of his
Lordship, as the scheme itself would have been. Nor would I have condescended to notice it
even thus, were it not to show how little this calumniator knew concerning the objects of
his uneasy and restless hatred. Mr. Wordsworth and I
were strangers to each other, even by name, when he represents us as engaged in a Satanic
confederacy, and we never published any thing in common. . . .
[John Wilson et. al.],
“Noctes Ambrosianae XVII” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
We were just as thick as weavers in no time. You see I was had been jauntin about in
the country for tway three weeks, seeing Wulson and Soothey, and the rest of my leeterary friends there. I had a gig
with me—John Grieve’s auld yellow gig it
was—and I was standing by mysell afore the inn door that evening, just glowring frae me, for I
kent naebody in Ambleside, an be not the minister and the landscape-painter, out comes a strapping
young man frae the house, and oft’ with his hat, and out with his hand, in a moment like. He
seemed to think that I would ken him at ance; but seeing me bamboozled a thocht, (for he wasna sae
very dooms like the capper-plates,) Mr. Hogg, quo’ he, I
hope you will excuse me—my name is Byron—and I cannot
help thinking that we ought to hold ourselves acquaintance. . . .
Robert Southey,
“Mr. Southey and Lord Byron” in The Courier
No. 10,321 (13 December 1824)
The charge of scattering dark and devilish insinuations is one which, if
Lord Byron were living, I would throw back in his
teeth. Me he had assailed without the slightest provocation, and with that unmanliness too
which was peculiar to him; and in this course he might have gone on without giving me the
slightest uneasiness, or calling forth one animadversion in reply. When I came forward to
attack his Lordship, it was upon public, not upon private, grounds. He is pleased, however,
to suppose that he had “mortally offended” Mr.
Wordsworth and myself many years ago, by a letter which he had written to
the Ettrick Shepherd. “Certain it is,”
he says, “that I did not spare the Lakists in it, and he told me that he could
not resist the temptation, and had shown it to the fraternity. It was too tempting;
and, as I could never keep a secret of my own (as you know), much less that of other
people, I could not blame him. I remember saying, among other things, that the Lake
Poets were such fools as not to fish in their own waters. But this was the least
offensive part of the epistle.” No such epistle was ever shown either to
Mr. Wordsworth or to me: but I remember (and this passage brings
it to my recollection) to have heard that Lord Byron had spoken of us,
in a letter to Hogg, with some contempt, as fellows who could neither
vie with him for skill in angling, not for prowess in swimming—Nothing more than this
came to my hearing; and I must have been more sensitive than his Lordship himself could I
have been offended by it. Lord Byron must have known that I had the
flocci of his eulogium to balance the nauci of his scorn; and that the one would have
nihili-pili-fied the other, even if I had not
well understood the worthlessness of both. . . .
[William Jerdan?],
“Medwin’s Byron’s Conversations” in Literary Gazette
No. 408 (13 November 1824)
Whoe’er offended, at some unlucky time,
had their names hitched into rhyme, and were made sacred to ridicule; witness his lines on
“My Boy Hobby,” the sincerest among all
his friends—his jests at Moore—his
verses on Rogers, which would infinitely distress
the amour propre of that gentleman, if published—the rubs in his Correspondence at
Mr. D. Kinnaird—his reflections on
Mr. Murray—his attacks on Lord Carlisle, and a hundred other cases well known to all
who were intimate with or ever saw his letters. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Continued]” in New Times
No. 8188 (26 October 1824)
We shall not enter into the detail of wickedness which follows, and which
his Lordship relates with an utter disregard of consequences to the wretched female who had sacrificed to him her own and her
husband’s honour. He does not indeed mention
her name; but it is doubtless well known, and must be henceforth marked with indelible
disgrace. The most instructive part of the narrative is, that these two vicious persons,
who were united by lust, became separated by hatred; the utmost virulence is shewn in their
mutual reproaches; and they remind us of nothing but a description we have somewhere read
of infernal spirits wreaking the Divine vengeance on each other by mutual tortures. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
Lord Byron is abused for the freedom with which he has
spoken of certain of his favourite familiars; but, as we have already said, he affected to be
more vicious than he really was, and yet of what sort of ladies has he spoken? Has he mentioned
the name of one who is entitled to the slightest consideration, or whose reputation has not
been blown over all the town long ago without his help? We shall just mention one fact in
illustration of what we are now stating:—After the absurd scene of Lady ******** ****’s tragedy-flourish with the broken
jelly-glass, will it be credited that the ridiculous vixen wrote a long sentimental epistle on
the subject to a stout foreigner then in London, Prince
K——, because she had heard, forsooth, that he had a sister unhappily
married. It may be gratifying to her ladyship, who will assuredly read this, to know, that the
Prince shewed this letter to his friends, and was mightily diverted by its absurdity. How he
answered it, she best knows. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Continued]” in New Times
No. 8188 (26 October 1824)
The black malignity of the detestable lines, “Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred,” is but too
well known. They were directed against Lady Byron’s
Governess; and they are only surpassed in bitter, unmanly feeling, by the
epigram in page 215, which accuses
a woman with being a prostitute at once to him and to her husband. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
In point of fact, Lord Byron was
at the time very proud of the compliments, especially of that in which his Royal Highness
said, that he thought the age had possessed but one poet, Scott, till he had read Childe
Harold, or something to that effect. Such things are only correctly remembered
by those to whom they are addressed. But his Lordship never was accused of ingratitude to
the Prince. He was blamed for writing in contempt of the consideration due to the personal
feelings of the Prince, as he would have been had he taken the same liberty with the
domestic circumstances of any other gentleman; for although, from accidental associations,
Byron robed with the Whigs, he was anything himself but a Whig,
either in temper or in principle; and with regard to the compliments in question, assuredly
on the second day after the interview, at Miss
Johnstone’s ball, he was proud, and pleased with them. Indeed, with
all our regard for the memory of poor Byron, and with some touch too
of sorrow for his loss, we have no hesitation in saying, that, in our opinion, his enmity
towards the Prince Regent arose from disappointed vanity. No man was ever more engrossed
with himself than he was at the period to which we are now alluding; and had the Prince
invited him to his table, as perhaps he expected, none of those poems would ever have been
imagined. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Concluded]” in New Times
No. 8189 (27 October 1824)
In this very volume is a despicable
hotch-potch called the Irish
Avatara (p. 216.); intended to ridicule the enthusiastic reception
which the King received from his Irish subjects when he visited
Dublin. It is indeed as dull as Cain; but had it been a hundred times more animated, the single
expression “the welcome of tyrants” would have sufficed to render every Irish
heart indignant at the libel. In the same copy of verses is also a frantic tirade against
the Marquis of Londonderry,
who was then living: it is wholly false and slanderous, though certainly not half so
repulsive as the Epigrams in the Liberal on that lamented Statesman’s death. . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
A word more, and I have done. Captain
Medwin pretends to give the reason for Lord
Byron’s enmity to Mr
Sotheby—one of the best and most generous of men, and not the
least gifted of our poets. He says, speaking in the character of Lord
Byron, “I got a whole heap of anonymous letters when I was
at Venice, and at last found out that I had to thank Mr
Sotheby for the greater share of them.” It is true,
that Byron was once rash and idle enough to suppose a man of
Mr Sotheby’s sincere and gentlemanly character,
guilty of committing the meanness that the above extract has imputed to him; but
Beppo had not been published a
month before Lord Byron expressed himself convinced of his mistake, and sorry for
the attack that it had originated. . . .
[William Jerdan?],
“Medwin’s Byron’s Conversations” in Literary Gazette
No. 408 (13 November 1824)
Hatred of the late Lord Londonderry,
and a good deal of eulogy, or what might be called puffing of Shelley, are conspicuous towards the conclusion of the volume: we fancy
that the estimation and fame of either will be but little affected by these
sallies. . . .
[Sir John Stoddart],
“Conversations of Lord Byron [Continued]” in New Times
No. 8188 (26 October 1824)
We must own, that part of a note in page 234 puzzles us
extremely—“I have heard Lord Byron reproached,” says Captain
Medwin, “for leaving the Guiccioli. Her brother’s
accompanying him to Greece, and his remains to England, prove at least that the family
acquitted him of any blame.” Is it here meant that reproach is due to at married
man for ceasing to live in adultery? Is it meant that Count Count Gamba could, under any circumstances, have been
entitled to blame the husband of another woman for not living with his (the Count’s)
sister?—In short, is the honour of Italian families concerned to provide paramours for
their females? We do not know what odd complexities the code of modern liberal morality may
admit into its casuistry; and therefore we say again, Captain Medwin should explain these matters. . . .
John Galt,
“Pot versus Kettle” in Fraser’s Magazine
Vol. 2
No. 11 (December 1830)
“Dear Mr.
Hobhouse;—After looking at all the pros and cons of
Lord B.’s separation, I have resolved not to touch
it, otherwise than incidentally. But, it is said, that he left the Countess G—— in destitute
circumstances, after having promised to leave 2,000l. for
her use, till he should send for her. I wish you to enable me to contradict this. . . .
John Galt,
“Pot versus Kettle” in Fraser’s Magazine
Vol. 2
No. 11 (December 1830)
“My Dear Sir;—I happen to know that Lord Byron offered to give the Guiccioli a sum of money outright, or to leave it
to her by his will. I also happen to know, that the lady would not hear of any such
present or provision; for I have a letter in which Lord B.
extols her disinterestedness; and mentions, that he had met with a similar refusal
from another female. As to the G. being in destitute circumstances, I cannot
believe it; for Count Gamba, her brother,
whom I knew very well after Lord B.’s death, never made
any complaint or mention of such a fact—add to which, that I knew a
maintenance was provided for her by her husband, in consequence of a law process
before the death of Lord Byron. . . .
John Galt,
“Pot versus Kettle” in Fraser’s Magazine
Vol. 2
No. 11 (December 1830)
This letter was clear enough; but the friend from whom I received my information
of the matter alluded to, still persisted in his story.—As the great object of my Life of Byron was to
shew the features of his Lordship’s character, could this be done without exhibiting his
conduct in a transaction so important as to be only inferior to the separation from his
lady? My note to Mr.
Hobhouse was, obviously, for a public purpose; and his explicit reply was so
couched, as plainly to indicate that he was aware of that;—no injury has arisen to
himself, and certainly none to Lord B., from the publication of his
statement. However, I explained the dilemma I was placed in by these words in the preface:—“It will be seen by a note relative to a circumstance which
took place in Lord Byron’s conduct towards the
Countess Guiccioli, that Mr.
Hobhouse has enabled me to give two versions of an affair not regarded by
some of that lady’s relations as having been marked by generosity; but I could not
expunge what I had stated, having no reason to doubt the authenticity of my information.
The reader is enabled to form his own opinion on the subject.”
. . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
The public is assured, at p. 238, that Shelley was “one of the most moral as well as amiable
men.” Why disturb the ashes of his funeral pile, by thus unwillingly
compelling us to recall the memory of his vices? Who ever heard the tale of his
first wife, the beautiful victim of his
lust and his infidelity, without execrating the author of her sorrows! . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
The counts Gamba did “not
embark for Genoa,” they rode to Lucca. This opportunity may be taken of stating,
that count Peter Gamba, who is now in London,
denies the accuracy of the statements respecting his family; and declares that
lord Byron could not have uttered the conversation imputed to
him on that subject. . . .
Anonymous,
“Captain Medwin’s Account of Mr. Shelley” in Morning Chronicle
No. 17,336 (9 November 1824)
Captain Medwin tells us that “his first visit to
Italy was short, for he was soon called to England by his wife’s melancholy fate.”
The fact is, that Mr. Shelley’s return to this
country preceded the unhappy event, and had no connection with it whatever. Again, we are told
that it was during his residence in Buckinghamshire, that he wrote his ‘Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude.’"
The writer of this letter had the pleasure of reading that poem in print, before the author went to Buckinghamshire. . . .
Anonymous,
“Captain Medwin’s Account of Mr. Shelley” in Morning Chronicle
No. 17,336 (9 November 1824)
Captain Medwin proceeds to inform us, that Mr. Shelley wrote the “Revolt of Islam” in Italy, after his return to that
country. On the contrary, this was the poem written in Buckinghamshire, and it was published
before he went to Italy the second time. In giving the date of the publication of ‘Rosalind and Helen,’ he is equally
incorrect. . . .
[William Jerdan?],
“Medwin’s Byron’s Conversations” in Literary Gazette
No. 408 (13 November 1824)
The details of the burning of Shelley’s corpse
is eminently Indicro-pathetic.* It is mentioned that Lord B. caught cold at that scene; and
we have seen an epigram ascribed to him on the subject, in which the point turns on the
difficulty of drying bones which had been so long wet by the sea! Captain
M. was not acquainted with this amusing peculiarity of his Lordship’s
moods: but there is hardly one friend of his on earth whom he has not lampooned and
satirised. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
I have noticed
this misrepresentation before; but will now do it more at length. Lord
Byron was not present at this scene. He went thither in his carriage, and I
was with him; but on getting out, he studiously kept aloof, and was not in sight while the
melancholy proceedings took place. With regard to myself, “my feelings and
nerves,” however they might have suffered, would have carried me through any thing
where Mr. Shelley was concerned, provided it was necessary. They have
never failed me on very trying occasions. But my assistance was not
required: there were no feelings on the part of another to stand by and soothe; and though
I did not “lie back” in the carriage (as is here made out for the sake of
effect) I confess I could not voluntarily witness the thrustings in of the spade and
pick-axe upon the unburied body of my friend, and have the chance of hearing them strike
against his skull, as they actually did. Let me hasten from this subject. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
I had the pleasure of a visit from Captain Medwin
while “under the roof” that he speaks of, and should have said nothing
calculated to disturb the innocence of his politesse, had he
abstained from repeating scandals respecting women, and not taken upon himself to criticise
the views and “philosophy” of Mr.
Shelley; a man, of whom he was qualified to know still less, than of
Lord Byron. With the cautions here afforded to the reader, a
better idea of his Lordship may certainly be drawn from his account, than from any other.
The warmth of his homage drew out the noble Bard on some points, upon which he would have
been cautious of committing himself with a less wholesale admirer; and not the least
curious part of the picture, is this mutual excess of their position. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
According to Captain Medwin,
Lord Byron said of the writer of these pages, that till his voyage
to Italy “he had never been ten miles from St.
Paul’s.” The Captain ought to have known enough of his
Lordship’s random way of talking, not to take for granted every thing that he chose
to report of another. I had never been out of England before; except, when a child, to the
coast of France; but I had perhaps seen as much of my native country as most persons
educated in town. I had been in various parts of it, from Devonshire
to Yorkshire. I merely mention these things to show what idle
assertions Lord Byron would repeat, and how gravely the Captain would
echo them. If every body, mentioned in his work, were thus to deduct from it what he knows
to be untrue, how much would remain uncontradicted? . . .
[John Galt],
“Lord Byron’s Conversations” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
And lastly, in page 265, Miss
Lee, the authoress of Kruitzner, is said to have
destroyed herself; it is not more than a year and a half ago, that I had the
pleasure of meeting this lady at an evening party; she is, I believe, still at
Bath, enjoying the respect and admiration of a large and intellectual circle of
acquaintance, and with all the vigour of her talents unimpaired by age,
regretted the publication of Lord
Byron’s Werner; because it put a stop to the
production of her own dramatic version of the same story. . . .
Editor of the Courier,
“Byron and Medwin's Conversations” in The Courier
No. 10,287 (3 November 1824)
With respect to his intellectual character, that must be gathered from his
writings, not from his conversation. We should hardly have thought it possible, that a man
of genius could talk so baldly. The opinions he pronounced upon men, upon books, and upon
events, were scarcely upon a level with those which are delivered in any company where half
a dozen well-educated persons are present. They have a little poignancy, but it is derived
wholly from the individuals and the circumstances to which they relate. They have nothing
of the raciness of thought about them. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
“I never met with any man who shines so much in
conversation.” That is to say, Captain
Medwin never met before with a lord so much the rage. He says a little
afterwards, that his Lordship “never showed the author,” and that he
“prided himself most on being a man of the world and of
fashion;”—that is, to Captain Medwin; whose
admiration, he saw, ran to that side of things. The truth is, as I have before stated, that
he had no conversation in the higher sense of the word, owing to these perpetual
affectations; but instead of never showing the author on that account, he never forgot it.
His sole object was to have an admiring report of himself, as a
genius, who could be lord, author, or what he pleased. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
“His anecdotes,” says Medwin,
“of life and living characters were inexhaustible.” This was true, if
you chose to listen to them, and to take every thing he said for granted; but every body
was not prepared, like the Captain, to be thankful for stories of the noble Lord and all
his acquaintances, male and female. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
“Miserly in trifles—about to lavish
his whole fortune on the Greeks” (oh happy
listener!)—“to-day diminishing his stud—to-morrow taking a large
family under his roof” (an ingenious nicety!), or giving
1000l. for a yacht” (a sum, which it very much
surprised and vexed him to be charged); “dining for a few Pauls when
alone—spending hundreds when he has friends; ‘
Nil fuit unquam,’ says the gallant and classical
officer, ’
sic impar sibi.’” . . .
[John Wilson et. al.],
“Noctes Ambrosianae XVII” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
I admit that Byron had his defects. He was aye
courting the ill will o’ the world, that he might make a fool o’t. There was a principle
in his prodigality that I ne’er observed in other men. He wasna just like King Henry, the fifth o’ that name, wild for wantonness—but
in a degree like Hamlet, the play-actor, a thought antic for a
purpose—What that purpose was, he best kent himself; and if it werena to speak blasphemy, I
would a’maist say he was wicket that he might be wise. O he was a desperate worldly creature,
thinking to make himself a something between a god and a devil—a spirit that would hae a
dominion over the spirits o’ men—and make the earth a third estate ’tween heaven
and hell. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Descending from the author to the editor, and from the editor to the publisher
of this volume, we feel inclined to remonstrate with the latter respectable personage for not
contriving to make a book (an art in which he ought to be an adept) without taking an entire
article from the third number of our Review,
equivalent in length to one-fourth of the whole Conversations. A
little more invention on the part of the Conversation-seller, and a little more liberality on
that of the Conversation buyer, would have rendered such an expedient unnecessary; and as we
like to choose our own company, we really must protest against being forced to hunt in couples
with Mr. Colburn’s authors. We trust that this is
the last time we shall have to complain of such a disagreeable connexion. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
It has been contrived, even in the Appendix, to preserve the character of the
work itself; for, in making an attempt to correct a statement in the Funeral Oration on
lord Byron, the editor has shown an ignorance equal to
that of the author of the Conversations. The Oration says of
lord Byron—“Born in the great capital
of England.” To which remark this note is appended, at p. 536 of the
volume—“This translation is by a Greek at Missolonghi, from the original
modern Greek gazette. No alterations have been made though a few suggest themselves, one of
which is, that lord Byron was not born in London.”
. . .
John Cam Hobhouse, baron Broughton (1786-1869)
Founder of the Cambridge Whig Club; traveled with Byron in the orient, radical MP for
Westminster (1820); Byron's executor; after a long career in politics published
Some Account of a Long Life (1865) later augmented as
Recollections of a Long Life, 6 vols (1909-1911).
Esther Johnson [Stella] (1681-1728)
The lifelong friend of Jonathan Swift and object of his birthday verses; they were
rumored to be secretly married.
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
English poet, with Byron in Switzerland in 1816; author of
Queen
Mab (1813),
The Revolt of Islam (1817),
The Cenci and
Prometheus Unbound (1820), and
Adonais (1821).
John Taaffe (1787-1862)
The son of John Taaffe of Smarmore Castle, Co. Louth in Ireland; he was the translator of
Dante and companion of Shelley and Byron in Italy, where he died in 1862.
George Gordon Byron, sixth Baron Byron (1788-1824)
Don Juan. (London: 1819-1824). A burlesque poem in ottava rima published in installments: Cantos I and II published in
1819, III, IV and V in 1821, VI, VII, and VIII in 1823, IX, X, and XI in 1823, XII, XIII,
and XIV in 1823, and XV and XVI in 1824.