The Works of Lord Byron: Letters and Journals Volume II Part 112

Lord BYRON replied, that he had, from motives of duty, presented this pet.i.tion to their Lordships' consideration. The n.o.ble Earl had contended that it was not a pet.i.tion, but a speech; and that, as it contained no prayer, it should not be received. What was the necessity of a prayer?

If that word were to be used in its proper sense, their Lordships could not expect that any man should pray to others. He had only to say, that the pet.i.tion, though in some parts expressed strongly perhaps, did not contain any improper mode of address, but was couched in respectful language towards their Lordships; he should therefore trust their Lordships would allow the pet.i.tion to be received.

APPENDIX III.

LADY CAROLINE LAMB AND BYRON.

1. The following letter is one of the first which Lady Caroline wrote to Byron, in the spring of 1812:

"The Rose Lord Byron gave Lady Caroline Lamb died in despight of every effort made to save it; probably from regret at its fallen Fortunes.

Hume, at least, who is no great believer in most things, says that many more die of broken hearts than is supposed. When Lady Caroline returns from Brocket Hall, she will dispatch the _Cabinet Maker_ to Lord Biron, with the Flower she wishes most of all others to resemble, as, however deficient its beauty and even use, it has a n.o.ble and aspiring mind, and, having once beheld in its full l.u.s.tre the bright and unclouded sun that for one moment condescended to shine upon it, never while it exists could it think any lower object worthy of its worship and Admiration.

Yet the sunflower was punished for its temerity; but its fate is more to be envied than that of many less proud flowers. It is still permitted to gaze, though at the humblest distance, on him who is superior to every other, and, though in this cold foggy atmosphere it meets no doubt with many disappointments, and though it never could, never will, have reason to boast of any peculiar mark of condescension or attention from the bright star to whom it pays constant homage, yet to behold it sometimes, to see it gazed at, to hear it admired, will repay all. She hopes, therefore, when brought by the little Page, it will be graciously received without any more Taunts and cuts about 'Love of what is New.'

"Lady Caroline does not plead guilty to this most unkind charge, at least no further than is laudable, for that which is rare and is distinguished and singular ought to be more prized and sought after than what is commonplace and disagreeable. How can the other accusation, of being easily pleased, agree with this? The very circ.u.mstance of seeking out that which is of high value shows at least a mind not readily satisfied. But to attempt excuses for faults would be impossible with Lady Caroline. They have so long been rooted in a soil suited to their growth that a far less penetrating eye than Lord Byron's might perceive them--even on the shortest acquaintance. There is not one, however, though long indulged, that shall not be instantly got rid of, if L'd Byron thinks it worth while to name them. The reproof and abuse of some, however severe and just, may be valued more than the easily gained encomiums of the rest of the world.

"Miss Mercer, were she here, would join with Lady Caroline in a last request during their absence, that, besides not forgetting his new acquaintances, he would eat and drink like an English man till their return. The lines upon the only dog ever loved by L'd Byron are beautiful. What wrong then, that, having such proof of the faith and friendship of this animal, L'd Byron should censure the whole race by the following unjust remarks:

"'Perchance my dog will whine in vain Till fed by stranger hands; But long e'er I come back again, He'd tear me where he stands.'

"March 27th, 1812, _Good Friday_."

2. The following are the lines written by Lady Caroline when she burned Byron in effigy at Brocket Hall (endorsed, in Mrs. Leigh's handwriting, "December, 1812"):

"ADDRESS SPOKEN BY THE PAGE AT BROCKET HALL, BEFORE THE BONFIRE.

"Is this Guy Faux you burn in effigy?

Why bring the Traitor here? What is Guy Faux to me?

Guy Faux betrayed his country, and his laws.

England revenged the wrong; his was a public cause.

But I have private cause to raise this flame.

Burn also those, and be their fate the same.

[_Puts the Basket in the fire under the figure_.

See here are locks and braids of coloured hair Worn oft by me, to make the people stare; Rouge, feathers, flowers, and all those tawdry things, Besides those Pictures, letters, chains, and rings-- All made to lure the mind and please the eye, And fill the heart with pride and vanity-- Burn, fire, burn; these glittering toys destroy.

While thus we hail the blaze with throats of joy.

Burn, fire, burn, while wondering Boys exclaim, And gold and trinkets glitter in the flame.

Ah! look not thus on me, so grave, so sad; Shake not your heads, nor say the Lady's mad.

Judge not of others, for there is but one To whom the heart and feelings can be known.

Upon my youthful faults few censures cast.

Look to the future--and forgive the past.

London, farewell; vain world, vain life, adieu!

Take the last tears I e'er shall shed for you.

Young tho' I seem, I leave the world for ever, Never to enter it again--no, never--never!"

3. The following letter was apparently written in the summer of 1812:

"You have been very generous and kind if you have not betray'd me, and I do _not think you have_. My remaining in Town and seeing you thus is sacrificing the last chance I have left. I expose myself to every eye, to every unkind observation. You think me weak, and selfish; you think I do not struggle to withstand my own feelings, but indeed it is exacting more than human nature can bear, and when I came out last night, which was of itself an effort, and when I heard your name announced, the moment after I saw nothing more, but seemed in a dream. Miss Berry's very loud laugh and penetrating eyes did not restore me. She, however, [was] good natur'd and remain'd near me, and Mr. Moor (_sic_), though he really does not approve one feeling I have, had kindness of heart to stay near me. Otherwise I felt so ill I could not have struggled longer.

Lady Cahir said, 'You are ill; shall we go away?' which I [was] very glad to accept; but we could not get through, and so I fear it caus'd you pain to see me intrude again. I sent a groom to Holmes twice yesterday morning, to prevent his going to you, or giving you a letter full of flippant jokes, written in one moment of gaiety, which is quite gone since. I am so afraid he has been to you; if so, I entreat you to forgive it, and to do just what you think right about the Picture.

"I have been drawing you Mad. de Stael, as the last I sent was not like.

If you do not approve this, give it Murray, and pray do not be angry with me.

"Do not marry yet, or, if you do, let me know it first. I shall not suffer, if she you chuse be worth you, but she will never love you as I did. I am going to the Chapple Royal at St. James. Do you ever go there?

It begins at 1/2 past 5, and lasts till six; it is the most beautiful singing I ever heard; the choristers sing 'By the waters of Babylon.'

"The Peers sit below; the Women quite apart. But for the evening service very few go; I wonder that more do not,--it is really most beautiful, for those who like that style of music. If you never heard it, go there some day, but not when it is so cold as this. How very pale you are!

What a contrast with Moore! '_Mai io l'ho veduto piu bello che jeri, ma e la belta della morte_,' or a statue of white marble so colourless, and the dark brow and hair such a contrast. I never see you without wishing to cry; if any painter could paint me that face as it is, I would give them any thing I possess on earth,--not one has yet given the countenance and complexion as it is. I only could, if I knew how to draw and paint, because one must feel it to give it the real expression."