Among the less sentimental effects of this Review upon Byron's mind, he used to mention that, on the day he read it, he drank three bottles of claret to his own share after dinner; that nothing, however, relieved him till he had given vent to his indignation in rhyme, and that "after the first twenty lines, he felt himself considerably better" (Moore,
Life
, p. 69).
"I was sitting with Charles Lamb," H. Crabb Robinson told De Morgan, "when Wordsworth came in, with fume in his countenance and the Edinburgh Review in his hand.
When I became acquainted with Lady Byron, I told her this story, and she said,'I have no patience with these Reviewers,' he said; 'here is a young man, a lord, and a minor, it appears, who publishes a little volume of poetry; and these fellows attack him, as if no one may write poetry unless he lives in a garret. The young man will do something, if he goes on.'
'Ah! if Byron had known that, he would never have attacked Wordsworth. He once went out to dinner where Wordsworth was to be; when he came home, I said,
"Well, how did the young poet get on with the old one?"
"To tell you the truth," said he, "I had but one feeling from the beginning of the visit to the end — reverence!"'"
'I have no patience with these Reviewers,' he said; 'here is a young man, a lord, and a minor, it appears, who publishes a little volume of poetry; and these fellows attack him, as if no one may write poetry unless he lives in a garret. The young man will do something, if he goes on.'
'Ah! if Byron had known that, he would never have attacked Wordsworth. He once went out to dinner where Wordsworth was to be; when he came home, I said,
"Well, how did the young poet get on with the old one?"
"To tell you the truth," said he, "I had but one feeling from the beginning of the visit to the end — reverence!"'"
(
Diary,
iii. 488.)