Volume II Part 114 (2/2)
”One more remark, my Lord, and I have done. I am very sensible that in this application to your Lords.h.i.+p I have been guilty of what would be term'd by some a piece of great impertinence, and by most an act of consummate folly. Will you allow me, my Lord, frankly to state to you the arguments on which my resolutions were founded?
”I have not address'd you, my Lord, on the impulse of the moment, dictated by desperation, and adopted without reflection. No, my Lord; I had, or, at least, I thought I had, better reasons. I remembered that you had once condescended to address me _'candidly, not critically,'_ that you had even kindly interested yourself on my behalf. I thought that, amid all the keenness and poignancy of your habitual feelings, as powerfully pourtrayed in your writings, I could discern the workings of a heart _truly n.o.ble_. I imagin'd that what to a superficial observer appear'd only the overflowings of misanthropy, were, in reality, the effusions of deep sensibility. I convinc'd myself, by repeated perusals of your different productions, that though disappointments the most painful, and sensations the most acute, might have stung your heart to its very core, it had yet many feelings of the most exalted kind. From these I hoped everything. Those hopes may be disappointed, but the opinions which gave rise to them have not been hastily form'd, nor will any selfish feeling of mortification be able to alter them.
”I do not, my Lord, intend the above as any idle complimentary apology for what I have done. I am not, G.o.d knows, just now in a complimentary mood; and if I were, you, my Lord, are one of the last persons on earth on whom I should be tempted to play off such trash as idle panegyrics. I esteem you, my Lord, not merely for your rank, still less for your personal qualities. The former I respect as I ought; of the latter I know nothing. But I feel something more than mere respect for your genius and your talents; and from your past conduct towards myself I cannot be insensible to your kindness. For these reasons, my Lord, I acted as I have done. I before told you that I consider'd you _no common character_, and I think your Lords.h.i.+p will admit that I have not treated you as such.
”Permit me once more, my Lord, to take my leave by a.s.suring you that I am,
”With the truest esteem, ”Your very obt. and humble servt., ”BERNARD BARTON.
”P. S.--I hope your Lords.h.i.+p will find no difficulty in making out this scrawl; but really, not being able to mend my pen, I am forced to write with it backwards. When I have the good luck to find my pen-knife, I will endeavour to furnish myself with a better tool.”
Part of the draft of Byron's answer to these two letters is in existence, and runs as follows:
”Albany, April 16th, 1814.
”Sir,--All offence is out of the question. My princ.i.p.al regret is that it is not in my power to be of service. My own plans are very unsettled, and at present, from a variety of circ.u.mstances, embarra.s.sed, and, even were it otherwise, I should be both to offer anything like dependence to one, who, from education and acquirements, must doubly feel sensible of such a situation, however I might be disposed to render it tolerable.
”As an adviser I am rather qualified to point out what should be avoided than what may be pursued, for my own life has been but a series of imprudences and conflicts of all descriptions. From these I have only acquired experience; if repentance were added, perhaps it might be all the better, since I do not find the former of much avail without it.”
APPENDIX V.
CORRESPONDENCE WITH WALTER SCOTT.
The following is Walter Scott's reply to Byron's letter of July 6, 1812:
”Abbotsford, near Melrose, 16th July, 1812.
”MY LORD,--I am much indebted to your Lords.h.i.+p for your kind and friendly letter; and much gratified by the Prince Regent's good opinion of my literary attempts. I know so little of courts or princes, that any success I may have had in hitting off the Stuarts is, I am afraid, owing to a little old Jacobite leaven which I sucked in with the numerous traditionary tales that amused my infancy. It is a fortunate thing for the Prince himself that he has a literary turn, since nothing can so effectually relieve the ennui of state, and the anxieties of power.
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