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LIFE

OF

LORD BYRON:

WITH HIS LETTERS AND JOURNALS.

BY THOMAS MOORE, ESU.

IN SIX VOLUMES. — VOL. J.

NEW EDITION.

LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.

1854.

^r^y^^

I'. /

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

Letters akd Journals of Lord Bvron, tvith Notices of
HIS Life, to the Period of his Return from the Con-
tinent, July, 1811.

3

TO

SIE WALTEU SCOTT, BAEO^^ET,

THESE VOLUMES

ARE INSCRIBED

EV HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND,

THOMAS MOORE.

December, 1829.

A 4

PEEFACE

TO THE

FIRST VOLUME OF THE FIKST EDITION.*

In presenting these Volumes to the public I should
have felt, I own, considerable diffidence, from a
sincere distrust in my own powers of doing justice
to such a task, were I not well convinced that there
is in the subject itself, and in the rich variety of
materials here brought to illustrate it, a degree of
attraction and interest which it would be difficult,
even for hands the most unskilful, to extinguish.
However lamentable were the circumstances under
which Lord Byron became estranged from his
country, to his long absence from England, during
the most brilliant period of his powers, we are in-
debted for all those interesting letters which com-
pose the greater part of the Second Volume of this
work, and which will be found equal, if not superior,
in point of vigour, variety, and liveliness, to any that
have yet adorned this branch of our literature.

• Published in two volumes, 4to.

V

X PREFACE.

What has been said of Petrarch, that " his cor-
respondence and verses together afford the progres-
sive interest of a narrative in which the poet is always
\ identified with the man," will be found applicable,
f in a far greater degree, to Lord Byron, in whom the
(literary and the personal character were so closely
interwoven, that to have left his works without the
instructive commentary which his Life and Corre-
spondence afford, would have been equally an injus-
tice both to himself and to the world.

PREFACE

TO THE

SECOND VOLUME OF THE FIRST EDITION,

The favourable reception which I ventured to an-
ticipate for the First Volume of this work has been,
to the full extent of my expectations, realised ; and
I may without scruple thus advert to the success it
has met with, being well aware that to the interest
of the subject and the materials, not to any merit of
the editor, such a result is to be attributed. Among
the less agreeable, though not least valid, proofs of
this success may be counted the attacks which, from
more than one quarter, the Volume has provoked ; —
attacks angry enough, it must be confessed, but,
from their very anger, impotent, and, as containing
nothing whatever in the shape either of argument
or fact, not entitled, I may be pardoned for saying,
to the slightest notice.

Of a very different description, both as regards
the respectability of the source from whence it
comes, and the mysterious interest involved in its

XU PREFACE.

contents, is a document which made its appearance
soon after the former Volume*, and which I
have annexed, without a single line of comment, to
the present; — contenting myself, on this painful
subject, with entreating the reader's attention to
some extracts, as beautiful as they are, to my mind,
convincing, from an unpublished pamphlet of Lord
Byron, which will be found in the following pages. f
Sanguinely as I was led to augur of the reception
of our First Volume, of the success of that which we
now present to the public, I am disposed to feel
even still more confident. Though self-banished
from England, it was plain that to England alone
Lord Byron continued to look, throughout the re-
mainder of his days, not only as the natural theatre
of his literary fame, but as the tribunal to which all
his thoughts, feelings, virtues, and frailties were to
be referred ; and the exclamation of Alexander,
" Oh, Athenians, how much it costs me to obtain
your praises ! " might have been, with equal truth,
addressed by the noble exile to his countrymen. To
keep the minds of the English public for ever occu-
pied about him, — if not with his merits, with his

* It is almost unnecessary to apprise the reader that the
paragraph at the bottom of p. 222. vol. iv. was written before
the appearance of this extraordinary paper.

f From p. 4. to 11. vol. v. inclusive.

PREFACE. Xin

faults; if not in applauding, in blaming him, — was,
day and night, the constant ambition of his soul ; and
in the correspondence he so regularly maintained
with his publisher, one of the chief mediums through
which this object was to be effected lay. Mr. Mur-
ray's house being then, as now, the resort of most
of those literary men who are, at the same time,
men of the world, his Lordship knew that whatever
particulars he might wish to make public concerning
himself, would, if transmitted to that quarter, be
sure to circulate from thence throughout society.
It was on this presumption that he but rarely, as we
shall find him more than once stating, corresponded
with any others of his friends at home ; and to the
mere accident of my having been, mj'^self, away
from England, at the time, was I indebted for the
numerous and no less interesting letters with which,
during the same period, he honoured me, and which
now enrich this volume.

In these two sets of correspondence (given, as
they are here, with as little suppression as a regard
to private feelings and to certain other considerations,
warrants) will be found a complete histor}'^, from the
pen of the poet himself, of the course of his life and
thoughts, during this most energetic period of his
whole career ; — presenting altogether so wide a
canvass of animated and, oflen, unconscious self-
portraiture, as even the communicative spirit of

XIV PREFACE.

genius has seldom, if ever, before bestowed on the
world.

Some insinuations, calling into question the dis-
interestedness of the lady whose fate was connected
with that of Lord Byron during his latter years,
having been brought forward, or rather revived, in
a late work, entitled "Gait's Life of Byron," — a
work wholly unworthy of the respectable name it
bears, — I may be allowed to adduce here a testi-
mony on this subject, which has been omitted in its
proper place f, but which will be more than sufficient
to set the idle calumny at rest. The circumstance
here alluded to may be most clearly, perhaps, com-
municated to my readers through the medium of
the following extract from a letter, which Mr. Barry
(the friend and banker of Lord Byron) did me the
favour of addressing to me soon after his Lordship's
death :j: : — " When Lord Byron went to Greece, he
gave me orders to advance money to Madame G * * ;
but that lady would never consent to receive any.
His Lordship had also told me that he meant to
leave his will in my hands, and that there would be
a bequest in it of 10,000/. to Madame G * *. He
mentioned this circumstance also to Lord Blessing-

+ In p. 232. vol. iv. however, the reader will find it
alluded to, and in terms such as conduct so disinterested
deserves.

I June 12. 1828.

PREFACE. XV

ton. Wlien the melancholy news of his death
reached me, I took for granted that this will would
be found among the sealed papers he had left with
me ; but there was no such instrument. I imme-
diately then wrote to Madame G * *, enquiring if
she knew any thing concerning it, and mentioning,
at the same time, what his Lordship had said as to
the legacy. To this the lady replied, that he had
frequently spoken to her on the same subject, but
that she had always cut the conversation short, as it
was a topic she by no means liked to hear him speak
upon. In addition, she expressed a wish that no
such will as I had mentioned would be found ; as her
circumstances were already sufficiently independent,
and the world might put a wrong construction on
her attachment, should it appear that her fortunes
were, in any degree, bettered by it."

NOTICES

OF THE

LIFE OF LORD BYRON.

It has been said of Lord Byron, " that he was
prouder of being a descendant of those Byrons of
Normandy, who accompanied WilHam the Con-
queror into England, than of having been the author
of Childe Harold and Manfred." This remark is
not altogether unfounded in truth. In the character
of the noble poet, the pride of ancestry was un-
doubtedly one of the most decided features ; and,
as far as antiquity alone gives lustre to descent, he
had every reason to boast of tlie claims of his race.
In Doomsday-book, the name of Ralph de Burun
ranks high among the tenants of land in Notting-
hamshire ; and in the succeeding reigns, under the
title of Lords of Horestan Castle *, we find his
descendants holding considerable possessions in
Derbyshire; to which, afterwards, in the time of

* " In the park of Horseley," says Thoroton, " there was
a castle, some of the ruins whereof are yet visible, called Ho-
restan Castle, which was the chief mansion of his (Ralph do
Burun 's) successors."

VOL. I. 3

2 NOTICES OF THE I347.

Edward I., were added the lands of Rochdale in
Lancashh'e. So extensive, indeed, in those early
times, was the landed wealth of the family, that the
partition of their property, in Nottinghamshire alone,
has been sufficient to establish some of the first fami-
lies of the county.

Its antiquity, however, was not the only distinction
by which the name of Byron came recommended to
its inheritor ; those personal merits and accomplish-
ments, which form the best ornament of a genealogy,
seem to have been displayed in no ordinary degree
by some of his ancestors. In one of his own early
poems, alluding to the achievements of his race, he
commemorates, with much satisfaction, those " mail-
covered barons " among them,

who proudly to battle
Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain.

Adding,

Near Askalon's towers John of Horiston slumbers,
Unnerved is the hand of his minstrel by death.

As there is no record, however, as far as I can
discover, of any of his ancestors having been engaged
in the Holy Wars, it is possible that he may have
had no other authority for this notion than the
tradition which he found connected with certain
strange groups of heads, which are represented on
the old panel-work, in some of the chambers at
Newstead. In one of these groups, consisting of
three heads, strongly carved and projecting from the
panel, the centre figure evidently represents a
Saracen or Moor, with an European female on one
side of him, and a Christian soldier on the other.

1606. LIFE OF LOUD BYROr^ 3

In a second group, which is in one of the bedrooms,
the female occupies the centre, while on each side
is the head of a Saracen, with the eyes fixed earnestly
upon her. Of the exact meaning of these figures
there is nothing certain known ; but the tradition is,
I understand, that they refer to some love-adventure,
in which one of those crusaders, of whom the young
poet speaks, was engaged.

Of the more certain, or, at least, better known
exploits of the family, it is sufficient, perhaps, to say,
that, at the siege of Calais under Edward III.,
and on the fields, memorable in their respective
eras, of Cressy, Bosworth, and Marston Moor, the
name of the Byrons reaped honours both of rank
and fame, of which their young descendant has,
in the verses just cited, shown himself proudly
conscious.

It was in the reign of Henry VIII., on the dis-
solution of the monasteries, that, by a royal grant,
the church and priory of Newstead, with the lands
adjoining, were added to the other possessions of the
Byron family.* The favourite upon whom these

* The priory of Newstead had been founded and dedicated to
God and the Virgin, by Henry II. ; and its monks, who were
canons regular of the order of St. Augustine, appear to have
been peculiarly tlie objects of royal favour, no less in spiritual
than in temporal concerns. During the lifetime of the fifth
Lord Byron, there was found in the lake at Newstead, —
where it is supposed to have been thrown for concealment by
the monks, — a large brass eagle, in the body of which, on its
being sent to be cleaned, was discovered a secret aperture, con-
cealing within it a number of old legal papers connected with
the riglits and privileges of the foundation. At the sale of the

B 2

4 NOTICES OF THE 1606.

spoils of the ancient religion were conferred, was
the grand-nephew of the gallant soldier who fought
by the side of Richmond at Bosworth, and is dis-
tinguished from the other knights of the same
Christian name in the family, by the title of " Sir
John Byron the Little, with the great beard." A
portrait of this personage was one of the few family
pictures with which the walls of the abbey, while in
the possession of the noble poet, were decorated.

At the coronation of James I. we find another
representative of the family selected as an object of
royal favour, — the grandson of Sir John Byron the
Little, being, on this occasion, made a knight of the
Bath. There is a letter to this personage, preserved
in Lodge's Illustrations, from which it appears, that
notwithstanding all these apparent indications of
prosperity, the inroads of pecuniary embarrassment
had already begun to be experienced by this ancient

old lord's effects in 1776-7, this eagle, together with three can-
delabra, found at the same time, was purchased by a watch-
maker of Nottingham (by whom the concealed manuscripts
were discovered), and having from his hands passed into those
of Sir Richard Kaye, a prebendary of Southwell, forms at pre-
sent a very remarkable ornament of the cathedral of that place.
A curious document, said to have been among those found in
the eagle, is now in the possession of Colonel Wildman, con-
taining a grant of full pardon from Henry V. of every possi-
ble crime (and there is a tolerably long catalogue enumerated)
which the monks might have committed previous to the 8th of
December preceding : — " Murdris, per ipsos post decimvm
nonum diem Xovembris, ultimo prseteritum perpetratis, si quae
fuerint, exceptis."

IG43. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 5

house. After counselling the new heir as to the
best mode of getting free of his debts, " I do there-
fore advise you," continues the writer*, " that so
soon as you have, in such sort as shall be fit, finished
your father's funerals, to dispose and disperse that
great household, reducing them to the number of forty
or fifty, at the most, of all sorts ; and, in my opinion,
it will be far better for you to live for a time in
Lancashire rather than in Notts, for many good rea-
sons that I can tell you when we meet, fitter for
words than writing."

From the following reign (Charles I.) the nobility
of the family date its origin. In the year 1643, Sir
John Byron, great grandson of him who succeeded to
the ricli domains of Nevvstead, was created Baron
Byron of Rochdale in the county of Lancaster ; and
seldom has a title been bestowed for such high and
honourable services as those by which this nobleman
deserved the gratitude of his royal master. Through
almost every page of the History of the Civil Wars,
we trace his name in connection with the varying
fortunes of the king, and find him faithful, persever-
ing, and disinterested to the last. " Sir John Biron,"
says the writer of Colonel Hutchinson's Memoirs,
" afterwards Lord Biron, and all his brothers, bred
up in arms, and valiant men in their own persons,
were all passionately the king's." There is also, in
the answer which Colonel Hutchinson, when go-
vernor of Nottingham, returned, on one occasion, to
his cousin-german. Sir Richard Biron, a noble tri-

* The Earl of Shrewsbury.
B 3

6 XOTICES OF THE 1750.

bute to the valour and fidelity of the family. Sir
Richard having sent to prevail on his relative to
surrender the castle, received for answer, that
" except he found his own heart prone to such
treachery, he might consider there was, if nothing
else, so much of a Biron's blood in him, that he
should very much scorn to betray or quit a trust he
had undertaken."

Such are a few of the gallant and distinguished
personages, through v/hom the name and honours of
this noble house have been transmitted. By the
maternal side also Lord Byron had to pride himself
on a line of ancestry as illustrious as any that Scot-
land can boast, — his mother, who was one of the
Gordons of Gight, having been a descendant of that
Sir WilUam Gordon who was the third son of the
Earl of Huntley, by the daughter of James I.

After the eventful period of the Civil Wars, when
so many individuals of the house of Byron distin-
guished themselves,— there having been no less than
seven brothers of tliat family on the field at Edge-
hill, — the celebrity of the name appears to have
died away for near a century. It was about the
year 1750, that the shipwreck and sufferings of Mr.
Byron * (the grandfather of the illustrious subject
of these pages) awakened, in no small degree, the
attention and sympathy of the public. Not long after,
a less innocent sort of notoriety attached itself to two
other members of the family, — one, the grand-uncle
of the poet, and the other, his father. The former

* Afterwards Admiral.

1784.

LIFE OF LORD BYUON 7

in the year 1765, stood his trial before the House of
Peers for kilHng, in a duel, or rather scuffle, his rela-
tion and neighbour Mr. Chaworth ; and the latter,
having carried off to the Continent the wife of Lord
Carmarthen, on the noble marquis obtaining a divorce
from the lady, married her. Of this short union one
daughter only was the issue, the Honourable Au-
gusta Byron, now the wife of Colonel Leigh.

In reviewing thus cursorily the ancestors, both
near and remote, of Lord Byron, it cannot fail to be
remarked how strikingly he combined in his own
nature some of the best and, perhaps, worst quali-
ties that lie scattered through the various characters
of his predecessors, — the generosity, the love of
enterprise, the high-mindedness of some of the bet-
ter spirits of his race, with the irregular passions,
the eccentricity, and daring recklessness of the
world's opinion, that so much characterised others.

The first wife of the father of the poet having
died in ITS^, he, in the following year, married Miss
Catherine Gordon, only child and heiress of George
Gordon, Esq. of Gight. In addition to the estate of
Gight, which had, however, in former times, been
much more extensive, this lady possessed, in ready
money, bank shares, &c. no inconsiderable property ;
and it was known to be solely with a view of reliev-
ing himself from his debts, that Mr. Byron paid his
addresses to her. A circumstance related, as having
taken place before the marriage of this lady, not only
shows the extreme quickness and vehemence of her
feelings, but, if it be true that she had never at the
time seen Captain Byron, is not a little striking.

B 4

O NOTICES OF THE 1784.

Being at the Edinburgh theatre one night when the
character of Isabella was performed by Mrs. Sid-
dons, so affected was she by the powers of this
great actress, that, towards the conclusion of the
play, she fell into violent fits, and was carried out of
the theatre, screaming loudly, " Oh, my Biron, my
Biron ! "

On the occasion of her marriage there appeared a
ballad by some Scotch rhymer, which has been
lately reprinted in a collection of the "Ancient Bal-
lads and Songs of the North of Scotland ; " and as it
bears testimony both to the reputation of the lady
for wealth, and that of her husband for rakery and
extravagance, it may be vv^orth extracting : —

MISS GORDON OF GIGHT.

O whai-e are ye gaen, bonny Miss Gordon ?

O whare are ye gaen, sae bonny an' braw ?
Ye've married, ye've married wi' Johnny Byron,

To squander the lands o' Gight awa'.

This youth is a rake, frae England he's come ;

The Scots dinna ken his extraction ava ;
He keeps up his misses, his landlord he duns.

That's fast drawen' the lands o' Gight awa'.

O whare are ye gaen, &c.

The shooten' o' guns, an' rattlin' o' drums,
The bugle in woods, the pipes i' the ha',

The beagles a howlin', the hounds a growlin' ;
These soundings will soon gar Gight gang awa'.

O whare are ye gaen, &c.

Soon after the marriage, which took place, I be-
lieve, at Bath, Mr. Byron and his lady removed to

178e. LIFE OF LORD BYnoy 9

their estate in Scotland ; and it was not long before
the prognostics of this ballad-maker began to be
realised. The extent of that chasm of debt, in
which her fortune was to be swallowed up, now
opened upon the eyes of the ill-fated heiress. The
creditors of Mr. Byron lost no time in pressing
their demands ; and not only was the whole of her
ready money, bank shares, fisheries, &c., sacrificed
to satisfy them, but a large sum raised by mort-
gage on the estate for the same purpose. In
the summer of 1786, she and her husband left
Scotland, to proceed to France ; and in the follow-
ing year the estate of Gight itself was sold, and the
v/hole of the purchase money applied to the further
payment of debts, — with the exception of a small
sum vested in trustees for the use of Mrs. Byron,
who thus found herself, within the short space of
two years, reduced from competence to a pittance
of 150/. per annum.*

* The following particulars respecting the amount of Mrs.
Byrort's fortune before marriage, and its rapid disappearance
afterwards, are, 1 have every reason to think, from the authen-
tic source to which I am indebted for them, strictly correct : —

" At the time of the marriage, Miss Gordon was possessed
of about 3000/. in money, two shares of the Aberdeen Bank-
ing Company, the estates of Gight and ]\Ionkshill, and the su-
periority of two salmon fishings on Dee. Soon after the arrival
of Mr. and IMrs. Byron Gordon in Scotland, it appeared that
Mr. Byron had involved himself very deeply in debt, and his
creditors commenced legal proceedings for the recovery of
their money. The cash in hand was soon paid away, — tlie
bank shares were disposed of at 600/. jiow worth 5000/.) —
timber on the estate was cut down and sold to the amount of

10 NOTICES OF THE 178?.

From France Mrs. Byron returned to England at
the close of the year 1787 ; and on the 22d of Ja-
nuary, 1788, gave birth, in Holies Street, London,
to her first and only child, George Gordon Byron.
The name of Gordon was added in compliance with
a condition imposed by will on whoever should be-
come husband of the heiress of Gight ; and at the
baptism of the child, the Duke of Gordon, and Co-
lonel Duff of Fetteresso, stood godfathers.

1 500/. — the farm of JNIonkshill and superiority of the fishings,
affording a freehold qualification, were disposed of at 4S0Z. ;
and, in addition to these sales, within a year after the marriage,
SOOO;. was borrowed upon a mortgage on the estate, granted
by Mrs. Byron Gordon to the person who lent the money.

" In March, 1786, a contract of marriage in the Scotch
form was drawn up and signed by the parties. In the course of
the summer of that year, Mr. and Mrs. Byron left Gight, and
never returned to it; the estate being, in the following yeai-,
sold to Lord Haddo for the sum of 17,850/., the whole of
which was applied to the payment of Mr. Byron's debts, with
the exception of 1122/., which remained as a burden on the
estate, (the interest to be applied to paying a jointure of
551. \\s. Id. to Mrs. Byron's grandmother, the principal re-
verting, at her death, to Mrs. Byron,) and 3000/. vested in
trustees for Mrs. Byron's separate use, which was lent to
Mr. Carscwell of Ratharllet, in Fifeshire."

" A strange occurrence," says another of my informants,
•' took place previous to the sale of the lands. All the doves
left the house of Gight and came to Lord Haddo's, and so
did a number of herons, which had built their nests for many
years in a wood on the banks of a large loch, called the Hag-
berry Pot. When this was told to Lord Haddo, he perti-
nently replied, ' Let the birds come, and do them no harm, for
the land will soon follow ; ' which it actually did."

1790. LIFE OF LOKD BYRON. 11

In reference to the circumstance of his being an
only child, Lord Byron, in one of his journals, men-
tions some curious coincidences in his family,
which, to a mind disposed as his was to regard every
thing connected with himself as out of the ordinary
course of events, would naturally appear even more
strange and singular than they are. " I have been
thinking," he says, " of an odd circumstance. My
daughter (1), my wife (2), my half-sister (3), my
mother (4), my sister's mother (5), my natural
daughter (6), and myself (7), are, or were, all onli/
children. My sister's mother (Lady Conyers) had
only my half-sister by that second marriage, (herself,
too, an only child,) and my father had only me, an
only child, by his second marriage with my mother,
an only child too. Such a complication of on/i/
children, all tending to o/ze family, is singular enough,
and looks like fatality almost." He then adds, cha-
racteristically, " But the fiercest animals have the
fewest numbers in their litters, as lions, tigers, and
even elephants, which are mild in comparison."

From London, Mrs. Byron proceeded with her in-
fant to Scotland ; and, in the year 1790, took up her
residence in Aberdeen, where she was soon after
joined by Captain Byron. Here for a short time
they lived together in lodgings at the house of a
person named Anderson, in Queen Street. But
their union being by no means happy, a separation
took place between them, and Mrs. Byron removed
to lodgings at the other end of the street.* Not-

* It appears that she seveial times changed her residence

12 NOTICES OF THE 1790.

withstanding this schism, they for some time conti-
nued to visit, and even to drink tea with each other;
but the elements of discord were strong on botli
sides, and their separation was, at last, complete and
final. He would frequently, however, accost the
nurse and his son in their walks, and expressed a
strong wish to have the child for a day or two, on a
visit with him. To this request Mrs. Byron was, at
first, not very willing to accede, but, on the repre-
sentation of the nurse, that " if he kept the boy one
night, he would not do so another," she consented.
The event proved as the nurse had predicted ; on
enquiring next morning after the child, she was told
by Captain Byron that he had had quite enough of
his young visiter, and she might take him home
again.

It should be observed, however, that Mrs. Byron,
at this period, was unable to keep more than one
servant, and that, sent as the boy was on this oc-
casion to encounter the trial of a visit, without the
accustomed superintendence of his nurse, it is not
so wonderful that he should have been found, under
such circumstances, rather an unmanageable guest.
Tiiat as a child, his temper was violent, or rather
sullenly passionate, is certain. Even when in petti-
coats, he showed the same uncontrollable spirit with
his nurse, which he afterwards exhibited when an

during her stay at Aberdeen, as there are two other houses
pointed out, where she lodged for some time ; one situated in
Virginia Street, and the other, the house of a Mr. Leslie, 1
think, in Broad Street,

179J. LIFE OF LORD BYRON 13

author, with his critics. Being angrily reprimanded
by her, one day, for having soiled or torn a new
frock in which he had been just dressed, he got into
one of his " silent rages" (as he himself has described
them), seized the frock with both his hands, rent it
from top to bottom, and stood in sullen stillness,
setting his censurer and her wrath at defiance.

But, notwithstanding this, and other such unruly
outbreaks, — in which he was but too much encou-
raged by the example of his mother, who frequently,
it is said, proceeded to the same extremities with
her caps, gowns, &c., — there was in his disposition,
as appears from the concurrent testimony of nurses,
tutors, and all who were employed about him, a
mixture of affectionate sweetness and playfulness,
by which it was impossible not to be attached ; and
which rendered him then, as in his riper years,
easily manageable by those who loved and under-
stood him sufficiently to be at once gentle and firm
enough for the task. The female attendant of whom
we have spoken, as well as her sister, Mary Gra}',
who succeeded her, gained an influence over his
mind against which he very rarely rebelled ; while
his mother, whose capricious excesses, both of an-
ger and of fondness, left her little hold on either his
respect or affection, was indebted solely to his sense
of filial duty for any small portion of authority she
was ever able to acquire over him.

By an accident which, it is said, occurred at the
time of his birth, one of his feet was twisted out of
its natural position, and this defect (chiefly from the
contrivances employed to remedy it) was a source

14 NOTICES OF THE

1793.

of much pain and inconvenience to him during his
early years. The expedients used at this period to
restore the limb to shape, were adopted by the ad-
vice, and under the direction, of the celebrated John
Hunter, with whom Dr. Livingstone of Aberdeen
corresponded on the subject ; and his nurse, to
whom fell the task of putting on these machines or
bandages, at bedtime, would often, as she herself
told my informant, sing him to sleep, or tell him
stories and legends, in which, like most other chil-
dren, he took great delight. She also taught him,
Avhile yet an infant, to repeat a great number of the
Psalms ; and the first and twenty-third Psalms were
among the earliest that he committed to memory.
It is a remarkable fact, indeed, that through the care
of this respectable woman, who was herself of a very
religious disposition, he attained a far earlier and
more intimate acquaintance with the Sacred Writings
tlian falls to the lot of most young people. In a letter
which he wrote to Mr. Murray, from Italy, in 1821
after requesting of that gentleman to send him, by
the first opportunity, a Bible, he adds — " Don't for-
get this, for I am a great reader and admirer of those
books, and had read them through and through be-
fore I was eight years old, — that is to say, the Old
Testament, for the New struck me as a task, but the
other as a pleasure. I speak as a boy, from the re-
collected impression of that period at Aberdeen, in
1796."

The malformation of his foot was, even at this
childish age, a subject on which he showed peculiar
sensitiveness. I have been told by a gentleman of

1793. LIFE OF LORD BYRON 15

Glasgow, that the person who nursed his wife, and
who still lives in his family, used often to join the
nurse of Byron when they were out with their re-
spective charges, and one day said to her, as they
walked together, " What a pretty boy Byron is !
what a pity he has such a leg!" On hearing this
allusion to his infirmity, the child's eyes flashed with
anger, and striking at her with a little whip which
he held in his hand, he exclaimed impatiently,
"Dinna speak of it!" Sometimes, however, as in
after life, he could talk indifferently and even jest-
ingly of this lameness ; and there being another little
boy in the neighbourhood, who had a similar defect
in one of his feet, Byron would say, laughingly,
" Come and see the twa laddies with the twa club
feet going up the Broad Street."

Among many instances of his quickness and
energy at this age, his nurse mentioned a little in-
cident that one night occurred, on her taking him
to the theatre to see the " Taming of the Shrew."
He had attended to the performance, for some time,
with silent interest; but, in the scene between Ca-
therine and Petruchio, where the following dialogue
takes place, —

Calk. I know it is the moon.

Pet. Nay, then, you lie, — it is the blessed sun, —

little Geordie (as they called the child), starting
from his seat, cried out boldly, " But I say it is the
moon, sir."

The short visit of Captain Byron to Aberdeen has
already been mentioned, and he again passed two
or three months in that city, before his last do-

16 NOTICES OF THE I793.

parture for France. On both occasions, his chief
object was to extract still more money, if possible,
from the unfortunate woman whom he had beggared ;
and so far was he successful, that, during his last
visit, narrow as were her means, she contrived
to furnish him with the money necessary for his
journey to Valenciennes*, where, in the following
year, 1791, he died. Though latterly Mrs. Byron
would not see her husband, she entertained, it is
said, a strong aft'ection for him to the last ; and on
those occasions, when the nurse used to meet him
in her walks, would enquire of her with the ten-
derest anxiety as to his health and looks. When
the intelligence of his death, too, arrived, her grief,
according to the account of this same attendant,
bordered on distraction, and her shrieks were so
loud as to be heard in the street. She was, indeed,
a woman full of the most passionate extremes, and
her grief and affection were bursts as much of
temper as of feeling. To mourn at all, however,
for such a husband was, it must be allowed, a most
gratuitous stretch of generosity. Having married
her, as he openly avowed, for her fortune alone, he

* By her advances of money to Mr. Byron (says an autho-
rity I have already cited) on the two occasions when he visited
Aberdeen, as well as by the expenses incurred in furnishing the
floor occupied by her, after his death, in Broad Street, she got
in debt to the amount of 300/., by paying the interest on which
her income was reduced to 135/. On this, however, slie con-
trived to live without increasing her debt ; and on the death of
her grandmother, wlicn she received th«; '122/. set apart for
that lady's annuity, discharged the v.'hol?

1793. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 17

soon dissipated this, the solitary charm she pos-
sessed for iiim, and was then unmanfal enough to
taunt her with the inconveniences of that penury
which his own extravagance had occasioned.

When not quite five years old, young Byron was
sent to a day-school at Aberdeen, taught by Mr.
Bowers *, and remained there, Avith some inter-
ruptions, during a twelvemonth, as appears by
the following extract from the day-book of the
school : —

George Gordon Byron.

19tli November, 1792.

19th November, 1793 — paid one guinea.

The terms of this school for reading were only
five shillings a quarter, and it was evidently less
with a view to the boy's advance in learning than
as a cheap mode of keeping him quiet that his
mother had sent him to it. Of the progress of his
infantine studies at Aberdeen, as well under Mr.
Bowers as under the various other persons that in-
structed him, we have the following interesting
particulars communicated by himself, in a sort of
journal which he once began, under the title of
" My Dictionary," and which is preserved in one of
his manuscript books.

" For several years of my earliest childhood, I
was in that city, but have never revisited it since 1
was ten years old. I was sent, at five years old, or

* In Long Acre. Tbe present master of this school is
Mr, David Grant, the ingenious editor of a collection of
♦' Battles and War Pieces," and of a work of much utility, en-
titled " Class Book of JNIodern Poetry."

VOL. I. C

18 NOTICES OF THE

1793.

earlier, to a school kept by a Mr. Bowers, who was
called ' Bodsy Bowers,' by reason of his dapper-
ness. It was a school for both sexes. I learned
httle there except to repeat by rote the first lesson
of monosyllables (' God made rnan' — ' Let us love
him'), by hearing it often repeated, without ac-
quiring a letter. Whenever proof was made of my
progress, at home, I repeated these words with the
most rapid fluency ; but on turning over a new leaf,
I continued to repeat them, so that the narrow
boundaries of my first year's accomplishments were
detected, my ears boxed, (which they did not de-
serve, seeing it was by ear only that I had acquired
my letters,) and my intellects consigned to a new
preceptor. He was a very devout, clever, little
clergyman, named Ross, afterwards minister of one
of the kirks {East, I think). Under him I made
astonishing progress ; and I recollect to this day
his mild manners and good-natured pains-taking.
The moment I could read, my grand passion was
Idstory, and, why I know not, but I was particularly
taken with the battle near the Lake Regillus in the
Roman History, put into my hands the first. Four
years ago, when standing on the heights of Tus-
culum, and looking down upon the little round lake
that was once Regillus, and which dots the immense
expanse below, I remembered my young enthusiasm
and my old instructor. Afterwards I had a very
serious, saturnine, but kind young man, nam.ed Pa-
terson, for a tutor. He was the son of my shoe-
maker, but a good scholar, as is common with the
Scotch. He was a rigid Presbyterian also. With

1793. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 19

him I began Latin in < Ruddiman's Grammar, and
continued till I went to the ' Grammar School,
(Scotice, ' Schule ;' Aberdoiiice, * Squeel,') where I
threaded all the classes to the fourth, when I was
recalled to England (where I had been hatched) by
the demise of my uncle. I acquired this hand-
writing, which I can hardly read myself, under
the fair copies of Mr. Duncan of the same city : I
don't think he would plume himself much upon my
progress. However, I wrote much better then than
I have ever done since. Haste and agitation of
one kind or another have quite spoilt as pretty a
scrawl as ever scratched over a frank. The gram-
mar-school might consist of a hundred and fifty of
all ages under age. It was divided into five classes,
taught by four masters, the chief teaching the
fourth and fifth himself. As in England, the fifth,
sixth forms, and monitors, are heard by the head
masters."

Of his class-fellows at the grammar-school there
are many, of course, still alive, by whom he is well
remembered*; and the general impression they
retain of him is, that he was a lively, warm-hearted,
and high-spirited boy — passionate and resentful,
but affectionate and companionable with his school-
fellows — to a remarkable degree venturous and fear-
less, and (as one of them significantly expressed it)
" always more ready to give a blow than take one."
Among many anecdotes illustrative of this spirit, it

* The old porter, too, at the College, "minds vveel " the lit-
tle boy, with the red jacket and nankeen trowsers, whom he has
so often turned out of the College court-yard.

C 9.

20 NOTICES OF THE 1793.

is related that once, in returning home from school,
he fell in with a boy who had on some former occa-
sion insulted him, but had then got off unpunished
— little Byron, however, at the time, promising to
" pay him off" whenever they should meet again.
Accordingly, on this second encounter, though there
were some other boys to take his opponent's part,
he succeeded in inflicting upon him a hearty beat-
ing. On his return home, breathless, the servant
enquired what he had been about, and was answered
by him with a mixture of rage and humour, tliat he
had been paying a debt, by beating a boy according
to promise ; for that he was a Byron, and would
never belie his motto, " Trust Byron!

He was, indeed, much more anxious to distinguish
himself among his school-fellows by prowess in all
sports* and exercises, than by advancement in learn-
ing. Though quick, when he could be persuaded
to attend, or had any study that pleased him, he
v/as in general very low in the class, nor seemed
ambitious of being promoted any higher. It is the
custom, it seems, in this seminary, to invert, now
and then, the order of the class, so as to make the
highest and lowest boys change places, — with a
view, no doubt, of piquing the ambition of both. On
these occasions, and only these, Byron nas some-
times at the head, and the master, to banter iiim,

* " He was," says one of my infoiTnants, " a good hand at
marbles, and could drive one farther than most boys. He also
excelled at ' Bases,' a game which requires considerable swift-
ness of foot. "

1796. LIFE OF LOUD BYROX. 21

would say, " Now, George, man, let me see how soon
you '11 be at the foot again." *

During this period, his mother and he made,
occasionally, visits among their friends, passing some
time at Fetteresso, the seat of his godfather. Colonel
Duff, (where the child's delight with a humorous old
butler, named Ernest Fidler, is still remembered,)
and also at Banff, where some near connections of
Mrs. Byron resided.

In the summer of the year 1796, after an attack
of scarlet-fever, he was removed by his mother for
change of air into the Highlands ; and it was either
at this time, or in the following year, that they took
up their residence at a farm-house in the neigh-
bourhood of Ballater, a favourite summer resort for
health and gaiety, about forty miles up the Dee
from Aberdeen. Though this house, where they
still show with much pride the bed in which young
Byron slept, has become naturally a place of pil-
grimage for the worshippers of genius, neither its
own appearance, nor that of the small bleak valley,
in which it stands, is at all worthy of being asso-
ciated with the memory of a poet. Within a short

* On examining the quarterly lists kept at the grammar-
school of Aberdeen, in which the names of the boys are set
down according to the station each holds in his class, it ap-
pears that in April of the year 1794, the name of Byron, then
in the second class, stands twenty-third in a list of tliirty-eight
boys. In the April of 1798, however, he had risen to be fifth
in the fourth class, consisting of twenty-seven boys, and had
got ahead of several of his contemporaries, who had previously
always stood before him.

C 3

22 NOTICES OF THE 1796.

distance of it, however, all those features of wildness
and beauty, which mark the course of the Dee
through the Highlands, may be commanded. Here
the dark summit of Lachin-y-gair stood towering
before the eyes of the future bard ; and the verses in
which, not many years afterwards, he commemorated
this sublime object, show that, young as he was, at
the time, its " frowning glories " were not unnoticed
by him. *

Ah, there my young footsteps in infancy wandered,

My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid ;
On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd

As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade.
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory

Gave place to the rays of the bright polar-star ;
For Fancy was cheer'd by traditional story,

Disclosed by the natives of dark Locli-na-gar.

To the wildness and grandeur of the scenes, among
which his childhood was passed, it is not unusual
to trace the first awakening of his poetic talent.
But it may be questioned whether this faculty was
ever so produced. That the charm of scenery, which
derives its chief power from fancy and association,
should be much felt at an age when fancy is yet
hardly awake, and associations but few, can with
difficulty, even making every allowance for the pre-
maturity of genius, be conceived. The light which
the poet sees around the forms of nature is not so

* Notwithstanding the lively recollections expressed in this
poem, it is pretty certain, from the testimony of his nurse, that
he never was at the mountain itself, which stood some miles
distant from his residencCj more than twice.

1796. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 23

much in the objects themselves as In the eye that
contemplates them ; and Imagination must first be
able to lend a glory to such scenes, before she can
derive inspiration //w?i them. As materials, indeed,
for the poetic faculty, when developed, to work upon,
these impressions of the new and wonderful retained
from childhood, and retained with all the vividness
of recollection which belongs to genius, may form,
it is true, the purest and most precious part of that
aliment, with which the memory of the poet feeds
his imagination. But still, it is the newly- awakened
power within him that is the source of the charm ; —
it is the force of fancy alone that, acting upon his
recollections, impregnates, as it were, all the past
with poesy. In this respect, such impressions of
natural scenery as Lord Byron received in his child-
hood must be classed with the various other remem-
brances which that period leaves behind — of its
innocence, its sports, its first hopes and affections —
all of them reminiscences which the poet afterwards
converts to his use, but which no more tnake the
poet than — to apply an illustration of Byron's own
— the honey can be said to make the bee that
treasures it.

When it happens — as was the case withLordByron
in Greece — that the same peculiar features of na-
ture, over which Memory has shed this reflective
charm, are reproduced before the eyes under new
and inspiring circumstances, and with all the acces-
sories which an imagination, in its full vigour and
wealth, can lend them, then, indeed, do both the
past and present combine to make the enchantment

c 4

24 NOTICES OF THE

1796.

complete ; and never was there a heart more borne
away by this confluence of feelings than that of
Byron. In a poem, written about a year or two
before his death *, he traces all his enjoyment of
mountain scenery to the impressions received during
his residence in the Highlands ; and even attributes
the pleasure which he experienced in gazing upon
Ida and Parnassus, far less to classic remembrances,
than to those fond and deep-felt associations by
which they brought back the memory of his boyhood
and Lachin-y-gair.

He who first met the Highland's swelling blue,

Will love eacli peak that shows a kindred hue,

Hail in each crag a friend's familiar face,

And clasp the mountain in his mind's embrace.

Long have I roam'd through lands which are not mine,

Adored the Alp, and loved the Apennine,

Revered Parnassus, and beheld the steep

Jove's Ida and Olympus crown the deep :

But 'twas not all long ages' lore, nor all

Their nature held me in their thriliins thrall ;

The infant rapture still survived the boy,

And Loch-na-gar with Ida look'd o'er Troy,

Mix'd Celtic memories with the Phrygian mount,

And Higliland linns with Castalie's clear fount.

In a note appended to this passage, we find him
falling into that sort of anachronism in the history
of his own feelings, which I have above adverted to
as not uncommon, and referring to childhood itself
that love of mountain prospects, which was but the
after result of his imaginative recollections of that
period.

* The Island.

1796. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 2o

" From this period" (the time of his residence in
the Highlands) " I date my love of mountainous
countries. I can never forget the effect, a iew years
afterwards in England, of the only thing I had long
seen, even in miniature, of a mountain, in the Mal-
vern Hills. After I returned to Cheltenham, I used
to watch them every afternoon at sunset, with a
sensation which I cannot describe." His love of
solitary rambles, and his taste for exploring in all
directions, led him not unfrequently so far, as to
excite serious apprehensions for his safety. While
at Aberdeen, he used often to steal from home un-
perceived; — sometimes he would find his way to
the seaside ; and once, after a long and anxious
search, they found the adventurous little rover
struggling in a sort of morass or marsh, from which
he was unable to extricate himself.

In the course of one of his summer excursions up
Dee-side, he had an opportunity of seeing still more
of the wild beauties of the Highlands than even the
neighbourhood of their residence at Ballatrech af-
forded,— having been taken by his mother through
the romantic passes that lead to Invercauld, and as
far up as the small waterfall, called the Linn of Dee.
Here his love of adventure had nearly cost him his
life. As he was scrambling along a declivity that
overhung the fall, some heather caught his lame
foot, and he fell. Already he was rolling downward,
when the attendant luckily caught hold of him, and
was but just in time to save him from being killed.

It was about this period, when he was not quite
eight years old, that a feeling partaking more of the

26 NOTICES OF THE 1796.

nature of love than it is easy to believe possible in
so young a child, took, according to his own account,
entire possession ot" his thoughts, and showed how
early, in this passion, as in most others, the sensibi-
lities of his nature were awakened.* The name of
the object of this attachment was Mary Duff; and
the following passage from a Journal, kept by him
in 1813, vvill show how freshly, after an interval of
seventeen years, all the circumstances of this early
love still lived in his memory : —

" I have been thinking lately a good deal of Mary
Duff. How very odd that I should have been so
utterly, devotedly fond of that girl, at an age when
1 could neither feel passion, nor know the meaning
of the word. And the effect ! — My mother used
always to rally me about this childish amour ; and,
at last, many years after, when I was sixteen, she
told me one day, ' Oh, Byron, I have had a letter
from Edinburgh, from Miss Abercromby, and your
old sweetheart Mary Duff is married to a Mr.
Co'^.' And what was my answer ? I really cannot
explain or account for my feelings at that moment ;
but they neai'ly threw me into convulsions, and

* Dante, we know, was but nine years old when, at a IMay-
day festival, he saw and fell in love with Beatrice; and Alfieri,
who was himself a precocious lover, considers such early sensi-
bility to be an unerring sign of a soul formed for the fine
arts : — " EfFetti," he says, in describing the feelings of his own
first love, " che poche persone intendono, e pochissime pro-
vano : ma a quei soli pochissimi e concesso 1' uscir dalla folia
volsare in tutte le umane arti." Canova used to sav, that he
perfectly well remembered having been in love when but five
years old.

1796. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 27

alarmed my mother so much, that after I grew
better, she generally avoided the subject — to me —
and contented herself with telling it to all her ac-
quaintance. Now, what could this be ? I had never
seen her since her mother's faux-pas at Aberdeen
had been the cause of her removal to her grand-
mother's at Banff; we were both the merest children.
I had and have been attached fifty times since that
period ; yet I recollect all we said to each other, all
our caresses, her features, my restlessness, sleep-
lessness, my tormenting my mother's maid to write
for me to her, which she at last did, to quiet me.
Poor Nancy thought 1 was wild, and, as I could not
write for myself, became my secretary. I remember,
too, our walks, and the happiness of sitting by Mary,
in the children's apartment, at their house not far
from the Plain-stones at Aberdeen, while her lesser
sister Helen played with the doll, and we sat gravely
making love, in our way.

" How the deuce did all this occur so early ?
where could it originate ? I certainly had no sexual
ideas for years afterwards ; and yet my misery, my
love for that girl were so violent, that I sometimes
doubt if I have ever been really attached since. Be
that as it may, hearing of her marriage several years
after was like a thunder-stroke — it nearly choked
me — to the horror of my mother and the astonish-
ment and almost incredulity of every body. And it
is a phenomenon in my existence (for 1 was not
eight years old) which has puzzled, and will puzzle
me to the latest hour of it ; and lately, I know not
why, the recollection (not the attachment) has re-

28 NOTICES OF THE 1796.

curred as forcibly as ever. I wonder if she can
have the least remembrance of it or me ? or re-
member her pitying sister Helen for not having an
admirer too ? How very pretty is the perfect image
of her in my memory — her brown, dark hair, and
hazel eyes ; her very dress ! I should be quite
grieved to see her novj ; the reality, however beau-
tiful, would destroy, or at least confuse, the features
of the lovely Peri which then existed in her, and
still lives in my imagination, at the distance of more
than sixteen years. I am now twenty-five and odd
months. . . .

" I think my mother told the circumstances (on
my hearing of her marriage) to the Parkynses, and
certainly to the Pigot family, and probably men-
tioned it in her answer to Miss A., who was well
acquainted with my childish penchant, and had sent
the news on purpose for me, — and thanks to her !

" Next to the beginning, the conclusion has often
occupied my reflections, in the way of investigation.
That the facts are thus, others know as well as I,
and my memory yet tells me so, in more than a
whisper. But, the more I reflect, the more I am
bewildered to assign any cause for this precocity of
affection."

Though the chance of his succession to the title
of his ancestors was for some time altoijether un-
certain — there being, so late as the year ITQl, a
grandson of the fifth lord still alive — his mother
liad, from his very birth, cherished a strong per-
suasion that he was destined not only to be a lord,
but " a great man." One of the circumstances on

1798. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 29

which she founded this belief was, singularly enough,
his lameness ; — for what reason it is difficult to
conceive, except that, possibly (havang a mind of
the most superstitious cast), she had consulted on
the subject some village fortune-teller, who, to en-
noble this infirmity in her eyes, had linked the
future destiny of the child with it.

By the death of the grandson of the old lord at
Corsica in 1794', the only claimant, that had hitherto
stood between little George and the immediate suc-
cession to the peerage, was removed ; and the in-
creased importance which this event conferred upon
them was felt not only by INIrs. Byron, but by the
young future Baron of Newstead himself. In the
winter of 1797, his mother having chanced, one day,
to read part of a speech spoken in the House of
Commons, a friend who was present said to the boy,
" We shall have the pleasure, some time or other,
of readmg your speeches in the House of Com-
mons."— " I hope not," was his answer: " if you
read any speeches of mine, it will be in the House
of Lords."

The title, of which he thus early anticijiated the
enjoyment, devolved to him but too soon. Had he
been left to struggle on for ten years longer, as
plain George Byron, there can be little doubt that
his character would have been, in many respects,
the better for it. in the followintr yea; his <.Mand-
uncle, the fifth Lord Byron, died at Newstead
Abbey, having passed the latter years of his strange
life in a state of austere and almost savage seclusion.
It is said, that the day after little Byron's accession

30 NOTICES OF THE 1798.

to the title, he ran up to his mother and asked her,
" whetlier she perceived any difference in him since
he had been made a lord, as he perceived none
himself":" — a quick and natural thought; but the
child little knew what a total and talismanic change
had been wrought in all his future relations with
society, by the simple addition of that word before
his name. That the event, as a crisis in his life,
affected him, even at that time, may be collected
from the agitation which he is said to have mani-
fested on the important morning, when his name
was first called out in school with the title of " Do-
minus " prefixed to it. Unable to give utterance to
the usual answer " adsum," he stood silent amid the
general stare of his school-fellows, and, at last, burst
into tears.

The cloud, which, to a certain degree, unde-
servedly, his unfortunate affray with Mr. Chaworth
had thrown upon the character of the late Lord
Byron, was deepened and confirmed by what it, in
a great measure, produced, — the eccentric and
unsocial course of life to which he afterwards betook
himself. Of his cruelty to Lady Byron, before her
separation from him, the most exaggerated stories
are still current in the neighbourhood; and it is
even believed that, in one of his fits of fury, he flung
her into the pond at Newstead. Od another occa-
sion, it is said, having shot his coachman for some
disobedience of orders, he threw the corpse into the
carriage to his lady, and, mounting the box, drove
off himself. Tliese stories are, no doubt, as gross
fictions as some of those of which his illustrious sue-

1798. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 31

cesser was afterwards made the victim ; and a fe-
male servant of the old lord, still alive, in contra-
dicting both tales as scandalous fabrications, supposes
the first to have had its origin in the foUowmg cir-
cumstance : — A young lady, of the name of Booth,
who was on a visit at Newstead, being one evening
with a party who were diverting themselves in front
of the abbey, Lord Byron by accident pushed her
into the basin which receives the cascades ; and out
of this little incident, as my informant very plausibly
conjectures, the tale of his attempting to drown
Lady Byron may have been fabricated.

After his lady had separated from him, the entire
seclusion in which he lived gave full scope to the
inventive faculties of his neighbours. There was
no deed, however dark or desperate, that the village
gossips were not ready to impute to him ; and two
grim images of satyrs, which stood in his gloomy
garden, were, by the fears of those who had caught
a glimpse of them, dignified by the name of " the old
lord's devils." He was known always to go armed ;
and it is related that, on some particular occasion,
when his neighbour, the late Sir John Warren, was
admitted to dine with him, there was a case of pistols
placed, as if forming a customary part of the dinner
service, on the table.

During his latter years, the only companions of
his solitude — besides that colony of crickets, which
he is said to have amused himself with rearing
and feeding * — were old Murray, afterwards the

• To this Lord Byron used to add, on tlie qufiority of old
ervants of the family, that on the day of their patron's death.

S2 NOTICES OF THE 1798.

favourite servant of his successor, and the female
domestic, whose authority I have just quoted, and
who, from the station she was suspected of being
promoted to by her noble master, received gene-
rally through the neighbourhood the appellation of
" Lady Betty,"

Though living in this sordid and solitaiy style,
he was frequently, as it appears, much distressed
for money ; and one of the most serious of the in-
juries inflicted by him upon the property was his
sale of the family estate of Rochdale in Lancashire,
of which the mineral produce was accounted very
valuable. He well knew, it is said, at the time of
the sale, his inability to make out a legal title ; nor
is it supposed that the purchasers themselves w^ere
unacquainted with the defect of the conveyance.
But they contemplated, and, it seems, actually did
realise, an indemnity from any pecuniary loss,
before they couid, in the ordinary course of events,
be dispossessed of the property. During the young
lord's minority, proceedings were instituted for the
recovery of this estate, and as the reader will learn
hereafter with success.

At Newstead, both the mansion and the grounds
around it were suffered to fall helplessly into decay;
and among the few monuments of either care or
expenditure which their lord left behind, were some
masses of rockwork, on which much cost liad beeu

these crickets all left the house simultaneously, and in such
numbers, that it was impossible to cross the hall without tread-
ing on them.

1798. LIFE OF LORD BYRON 33

tlirovpn away, and a few castellated buildings on the
banks of the lake and in the woods. The forts
upon the lake were designed to give a naval ap-
pearance to its waters, and frequently, in his more
social days, he used to amuse himself with sham
fights, — his vessels attacking the forts, and being
cannonaded by them in return. The largest of
these vessels had been built for him at some sea-
port on the eastern coast, and, being conveyed on
wheels over the Forest to Newstead, was supposed
to have fulfilled one of the prophecies of Mother
Shipton, which declared that " when a ship laden
with ling should cross over Sherwood Forest, the
Newstead estate would pass from the Byron family."
In Nottinghamshire, " ling " is the term used for
heather ; and, in order to bear out Mother Shipton
and spite the old lord, the country people, it is said,
ran along by the side of the vessel, heaping it with
heather all the way.

This eccentric peer, it is evident, cared but little
about the fate of his descendants. With his young
heir in Scotland he held no communication what-
ever ; and if at any time he happened to mention
him, which but rarely occurred, it was never under
any other designation than that of " the little boy
who lives at Aberdeen."

On the death of his grand-uncle. Lord Byron
having become a ward of chanceiy, the Earl of Car-
lisle, who was in some degree connected with the
family, being the son of the deceased lord's sister,
was appointed his guardian ; and in the autumn of
1798, Mrs. Byron and her son, attended by their

VOL. I. D

S4 NOTICES OF THE 1798,

faithful Mary Gray, left Aberdeen for Newstead.
Previously to their departure, the furniture of the
humble lodgings which they had occupied was,
with the exception of the plate and linen, which
Mrs. Byron took with her, sold, and the whole sum
that the effects of the mother of the Lord of New-
stead yielded was 74Z. 17*. Id.

From the early age at which Byron was taken to
Scotland, as well as from the circumstance of his
mother being a native of that country, he had every
reason to consider himself — as, indeed, he boasts
in Don Juan — " half a Scot by birth, and bred a
whole one.'' We have already seen how warmly
he preserved through life his recollection of the
mountain scenery in which he was brought up ; and
in the passage of Don Juan, to which I have just
referred, his allusion to the romantic bridge of Don,
and to other localities of Aberdeen, shows an equal
fidelity and fondness of retrospect : —
As Auld Lang Sj-ne brings Scotland, one and all,

Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills and clear streams.
The Dee, the Don, Balgounie's brig's black wall,

All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams
Of what I tlien dreamt, clothed in their own pall,

Like Banquo's offspring ; — floating past me seems
jVIy childhood in this childishness of mine ;
I care not — 'tis a glimpse of " Auld Lang Syne."

He adds in a note, " The Brig of Don, near the
* auld town ' of Aberdeen, w ith its one arch and
its black deep salmon stream, is in my memory as
yesterday. I still remember, though perhaps I may
misquote the awful proverb which made me pause
to cross it, and yet lean over it with a childish de-

1798. LIFE OF LOUD BYKON. 35

light, being an only son, at least by the mother's
side. The saying, as recollected by me, was this,
but I have never heard or seen it since 1 was nine
years of age: —

" ' Brig of Balgounie, black 's your wa',
Wi' a wife's ae son, and a mear's ae foal,
Down ye shall fa'.' " *

To meet with an Aberdonian was, at all times, a
delight to him ; and when the late Mr. Scott, who
was a native of Aberdeen, paid him a visit at Venice
in the year 1819, in talking of the haunts of his
childhood, one of the places he particularly men-
tioned was Wallace-nook, a spot where there is a
rude statue of the Scottish chief still standing.
From first to last, indeed, these recollections of the
country of his youth never forsook him. In his
early voyage into Greece, not only the shapes of
the mountains, but the kilts and hardy forms of the
Albanese, — all, as he says, " carried him back to
Morven ;" and, in his last fatal expedition, the dress
which he himself chiefly wore at Cephalonia was a
tartan jacket.

Cordial, however, and deep as were the im-
pressions which he retained of Scotland, he would
sometimes in this, as in all his other amiable feel-
ings, endeavour perversely to belie his own better

* The correct reading of this legend is, I understand, as
follows : —

" Brig o' Balgounie, loight (strong) is thy wa' ;
Wi' a wife's ae son on a mare's ae foal,
Down shalt thou fa'.'*

D 2

36 NOTICES OF THE 1798.

nature ; and, when under the excitement of anger or
ridicule, persuade not only others, but even himself,
that the whole current of his feelings ran directly
otherwise. The abuse with which, in his anger
against the Edinburgh Review, he overwhelmed
every thing Scotch, is an instance of this temporary
triumph of wilfulness ; and, at any time, the least
association of ridicule with the country or its inha-
bitants was sufficient, for the moment, to put all his
sentiment to flight. A friend of his once described
to me the half playful rage, into which she saw him
thrown, one day, by a heedless girl, who remarked
that she thought he had a little of the Scotch
accent. " Good God, I hope not ! " he exclaimed.
" I 'm sure I have n't. I would rather the whole
d — d country was sunk in the sea — I the Scotch
accent ! "

To such sallies, however, whether in writing or
conversation, but little weight is to be allowed, —
particularly, in comparison with those strong testi-
monies which he has left on record of his fondness
for his early home ; and while, on his side, this
feeling so indelibly existed, there is, on the part of
the people of Aberdeen, who consider him as almost
their fellow-townsman, a correspondent warmth of
affection for his memory and name. The various
houses where he resided in his youth are pointed
out to the traveller ; to have seen him but once is
a recollection boasted of with pride ; and the Brig
of Don, beautiful in itself, is invested, by his mere
mention of it, with an additional charm. Two or
three years since, the sum of five pounds was offered

179S. LIFE OF LORD BYRON, 37

to a person in Aberdeen for a letter which he had
in his possession, written by Captain Byron a few
days before his death ; and, among the memorials
of the young poet, which are treasured up by indi-
viduals of that place, there is one which it would
have not a little amused himself to hear of, being no
less characteristic a relic than an old china saucer,
out of which he had bitten a large piece, in a fit of
passion, when a child.

It was in the summer of 1798, as I have already
said, that Lord Byron, then in his eleventh year,
left Scotland with his mother and nurse, to take
possession of the ancient seat of his ancestors. In
one of his latest letters, referring to this journey, he
says, " I recollect Loch Leven as it were but yes-
terday— I saw it in my way to England in 1798."
They had already arrived at the Newstead toll-bar,
and saw the woods of the Abbey stretching out to
receive them, when Mrs. Byron, affecting to be ig-
norant of the place, asked the woman of the toll-
house — to whom that seat belonged ? She was
told that the owner of it. Lord Byron, had been
some months dead. " And who is the next heir?"
asked the proud and happy mother. " They say,"
answered the woman, " it is a little boy who lives
at Aberdeen." — " And this is he, bless him !" ex-
claimed the nurse, no longer able to contain herself,
and turning to kiss with delight the young lord who
was seated on her lap.

Even under the most favourable circumstances,
such an early elevation to rank would be but too
likely to have a dangerous influence on the cha-

38 NOriCES OB THE 1798.

racter ; and the guidance under which young Byron
entered upon his new station was, of ail otliers, the
least likely to lead him safely through its perils and
temptations. His mother, without judgment or self-
command, alternately spoiled him by indulgence,
and irritated, or — what was still worse — amused
him by her violence. That strong sense of the
ridiculous, for which he was afterwards so remark-
able, and which showed itself thus early, got the
better even of his fear of her ; and when Mrs. Byron,
who was a short and corpulent person, and rolled
considerably in her gait, would, in a rage, endeavour
to catch him, for the purpose of inflicting punish-
ment, the young urchin, proud of being able to out-
strip her, notwithstanding his lameness, would run
round the room, laughing like a little Puck, and
mocking at all her menaces. In a few anecdotes of
his early life which he related in his " Memoranda,"
though the name of his mother was never mentioned
but with respect, it was not difficult to perceive that
the recollections she had left behind — at least,
those that had made the deepest impression — were
of a painful nature. One of the most striking pas-
sages, indeed, in the few pages of that Memoir
which related to his early days, was where, in speak-
ing of his own sensitiveness, on the subject of his
deformed foot, he described the feeling of horror and
humiliation that came over him, when his mother,
in one of her fits of passion, called him " a lame brat."
As all that he had felt strongly through life was, in
some shape or other, reproduced in his poetry, it
was not likely that an expression such as this should

1798. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 39

fail of being recorded. Accordingly we find, in the
opening of his drama, " The Deformed Transformed,"

Bertha. Out, hunchback !
Arnold. I was born so, mother !

It may be questioned, indeed, whether that whole
drama was not indebted for its origin to this single
recollection.

While such was the character of the person under
whose immediate eye his youth was passed, the
counteraction which a kind and watchful guardian
might have opposed to such example and influence
was almost wholly lost to him. Connected but re-
motely with the family, and never having had any
opportunity of knowing the boy, it was with much
reluctance that Lord Carlisle originally undertook
the trust ; nor can we wonder that, when his duties as
a guardian brought him acquainted with Mrs. Byron,
he should be deterred from interfering more than
was absolutely necessary for the child by his fear of
coming into collision with the violence and caprice
of the mother.

Had even the character which the last lord left
behind been sufficiently popular to pique his young
successor into an emulation of his good name, such
a salutary rivalry of the dead would have supplied
the place of living examples ; and there is no mind
in which such an ambition would have been more
likely to spring up than that of Byron. But un-
luckily, as we have seen, this was not the case ; and
not only was so fair a stimulus to good conduct
wanting, but a rivalry of a very different nature sub-
stituted in its place. The strange anecdotes told of

D 4

40 NOTICES OF THE 179S.

the last lord by the country people, among whom
his fierce and solitary habits had procured for him
a sort of fearful renown, were of a nature livelily to
arrest the fancy of the young poet, and even to
waken in his mind a sort of boyish admiration for
singularities which he found thus elevated into
matters of wonder and record. By some it has been
even supposed that in these stories of his eccentric
relative his imagination found the first dark outlines
of that ideal character, which he afterwards em-
bodied in so many different shapes, and ennobled by
his genius. But however this may be, it is at least
far from improbable that, destitute as he was of
other and better models, the peculiarities of his im-
mediate predecessor should, in a considerable de-
gree, have influenced his fancy and tastes. One
habit, which he seems early to have derived from
this spirit of imitation, and which he retained through
life, was that of constantly having arms of some de-
scription about or near him — it being his practice,
when quite a boy, to carry, at all times, small loaded
pistols in his waistcoat pockets. The affray, indeed,
of the late lord with Mr. Chaworth had, at a very
early age, by connecting duelling in his mind with
the name of his race, led him to turn his attention
to this mode of arbitrament ; and the mortification
which he had, for some time, to endure at school,
from insults, as he imagined, hazarded on the pre-
sumption of his physical inferiority, found consola-
tion in the thought that a day would yet arrive when
the law of the pistol would place him on a level with
the strongest.

1798. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 41

On their arrival from Scotland, Mrs. Byron, with
the hope of having his lameness removed, placed
her son mider the care of a person, who professed
the cure of such cases, at Nottingham. The name
of this man, who appears to have been a mere em-
pirical pretender, was Lavender ; and the manner
in which he is said to have proceeded was by first
rubbing the foot over, for a considerable time, with
handsful of oil, and then twisting the limb forcibly
round, and screwing it up in a wooden machine.
That the boy might not lose ground in his education
during this interval, he received lessons in Latin
from a respectable schoolmaster, Mr. Rogers, who
read parts of Virgil and Cicero with him, and re-
presents his proficiency to have been, for his age,
considerable. He was often, during his lessons, in
violent pain, from the torturing position in which
his foot was kept; and Mr. Rogers one day said
to him, " It makes me uncomfortable, my Lord, to
see you sitting there in such pain as I hnoto you
must be suffering." — " Never mind, Mr. Rogers,"
answered the boy ; " you shall not see any signs of
it in me."

This gentleman, who speaks with the most affec-
tionate remembrance of his pupil, mentions several
instances of the gaiety of spirit with which he
used to take revenge on his tormentor. Lavender, by
exposing and laughing at his pompous ignorance.
Among other tricks, he one day scribbled down on
a sheet of paper all the letters of the alphabet, put
together at random, but in the form of words and
sentences, and, placing them before this all-pretend-

42 NOTICES OF THE 1798.

ing person, asked him gravely what language it was.
The quack, unwilling to own his ignorance, an-
swered confidently, " Italian," — to the infinite de-
light, as it may be supposed, of the little satirist in
embryo, who burst into a loud, triumphant laugh
at the success of the trap which he had thus laid
for imposture.

With that mindfulness towards all who had been
about him in his youth, which was so distinguishing
a trait in his character, he, many years after, when
in the neighbourhood of Nottingham, sent a message,
full of kindness, to his old instructor, and bid the
bearer of it tell him, that, beginning from a certain
line in Virgil which he mentioned, he could recite
twenty verses on, which he well remembered having
read with this gentleman, when suffering all the time
the most dreadful pain.

It was about this period, according to his nurse,
May Gray, that the first symptom of any tendency
towards rhyming showed itself in him ; and the
occasion which she represented as having given rise
to this childish effort was as follows : — An elderly
lady, who was in the habit of visiting his mother,
had made use of some expression that very much
affronted him ; and these slights, his nurse said, he
generally resented violently and implacably. The
old lady had some curious notions respecting the
soul, which, she imagined, took its flight to the moon
after death, as a preliminary essay before it pro-
ceeded further. One day, after a repetition, it is
supposed, of her original insult to the boy, he ap-
peared before his nurse in a violent rage. " Well,

1799.

LIFE OF LOKD BYRON. 43

my little hero," she asked, " what's the matter with
you now ? " Upon which the child answered, that
" this old woman had put him in a most terrible
passion — that he could not bear the sight of her,"
&c. &c. — and then broke out into the following
doggerel, which he repeated over and over, as if
delighted with the vent he had found for his rage : —

In Nottingham county there lives at Swan Green,
As curst an old lady as ever was seen ;
And when she does die, which I hope will be soon,
She firmly believes she will go to the moon.

It is possible that these rhymes may have been
caught up at second-hand ; and he himself, as will
presently be seen, dated his " first dash into poetry,"
as he calls it, a year later : — but the anecdote alto-
gether, as containing some early dawnings of cha-
racter, appeared to me worth preserving.

The small income of Mrs. Byron received at this
time the addition — most seasonable, no doubt,
though on what grounds accorded, I know not —
of a pension on the Civil List, of 300Z. a year. The
following is a copy of the King's warrant for the
grant : — (Signed)
" George R.

" Whereas we are graciously pleased to
grant unto Catharine Gordon Byron, widow, an
annuity of 300/., to commence from 5th July, 1799,
and to continue during pleasure : our will and plea-
sure is, that, by virtue of our general letters of Privy
Seal, bearing date 5th November, 1760, you do
issue and pay out of our treasure, or revenue in the
receipt of the Exchequer, applicable to the uses of

44 NOTICES OF THE I799.

our civil government, unto the said Catharine Gordon
Byron, widow, or her assignees, the said annuity, to
commence fi-om 5th July, 1799, and to be paid
quarterly, or otherwise, as the same shall become
due, and to continue during our pleasure ; and for
so doing this shall be your warrant. Given at our
Court of St. James's, 2d October, 1799, 39th year
of our reign.

" By His Majesty's command,

(Signed) " W. Pitt.

" S. Douglas.
» Edw". Roberts, Dep. Cleru^. Pellium."

Finding but little benefit from the Nottingham
practitioner, Mrs. Byron, in the summer of the year
1799, thought it right to remove her boy to Lon-
don, where, at the suggestion of Lord Carlisle, he
was put under the care of Dr. Baillie. It being an
object, too, to place him at some quiet school, where
the means adopted for the cure of his infirmity
might be more easily attended to, the establishment
of the late Dr. Glennie, at Dulwich, was chosen for
that purpose ; and as it was thought advisable that
he should have a separate apartment to sleep in,
Dr. Glennie had a bed put up for him in his own
study. Mrs. Byron, who had remained a short time
behind him at Newstead, on her arrival in town took
a house upon Sloane Terrace ; and, under the direc-
tion of Dr. Baillie, one of the Messrs. Sheldrake *

* In a letter addressed lately by Mr. Sheldrake to the editor of
a Medical Journal, it is stated that the person of the same name
who attended Lord Byron at Dulwich owed the honour of

1799. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 45

was employed to construct an instrument for the
purpose of straightening the Hmb of the child.
Moderation in all athletic exercises was, of course,
prescribed ; but Dr. Glennie found it by no means
easy to enforce compliance with this rule, as, though
sufficiently quiet when along with him in his study,
no sooner was the boy released for play, than he
showed as much ambition to excel in all exercises
as the most robust youth of the school ; — "an am-
bition," adds Dr. Glennie, in the communication
with which he favoured me a short time before his
death, " which I have remarked to prevail in general
in young persons labouring under similar defects of
nature." *

Having been instructed in the elements of Latin
grammar according to the mode of teaching adopted
at Aberdeen, the young student had now unluckily
to retrace his steps, and was, as is too often the case,
retarded in his studies and perplexed in his recollec-

being called in to a mistake, and effected nothing towards the
remedy of the limb. The writer of the letter adds that he was
himself consulted by Lord Byron four or five years afterwards,
and though unable to undertake the cure of the defect, from
the unwillingness of his noble patient to submit to restraint or
confinement, was successful in constructing a sort of shoe for
the foot, which in some degree alleviated the inconvenience
under which he laboured.

* " Quoique," says Alfieri, speaking of liis school-days,
" je fusse le plus petit de tons les grands qui se trouvaient
au second appartement ou j'^tais descendu, c'^tait pr^cisement
mon inferiorit<5 de taille, d'age, et deforce, qui me donnait plus
de courage, et m'engageait k me distinguer."

46 NOTICES OF THE 1799.

tions, by the necessity of toiling through the rudi-
ments again in one of the forms prescribed by the
Enghsh schools. " I found him enter upon his
tasks," says Dr. Glennie, " with alacrity and suc-
cess. He was playful, good-humoured, and beloved
by his companions. His reading in history and poetry
was far beyond the usual standard of his age, and
in my study he found many books open to him, both
to please his taste and gratify his curiosity ; among
others, a set of our poets from Chaucer to Churchill,
which I am almost tempted to say he had more than
once perused from beginning to end. He showed
at this age an intimate acquaintance with the his-
torical parts of the Holy Scriptures, upon which he
seemed delighted to converse with me, especially
after our religious exercises of a Sunday evening ;
when he would reason upon the facts contained in
the Sacred Volume with every appearance of belief
in the divine truths which they unfold. That the
impressions," adds the writer, " thus imbibed in his
boyhood, had, notwithstanding the irregularities of
his after life, sunk deep into his mind, will appear, I
think, to every impartial reader of his works in
general ; and I never have been able to divest my-
self of the persuasion that, in the strange aberrations
which so unfortunately marked his subsequent
career, he must have found it difficult to violate the
better principles early instilled into him."

It should have been mentioned, among the traits
which I have recorded of his still earlier years, that,
according to the character given of him by his first
nurse's husband, he was, when a mere child, " par-
ticularly inquisitive and puzzling about religion."

1799. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 47

It was not long before Dr. Glennie began to dis-
cover— what instructors of youth must too often
experience — that the parent was a much more
difficult subject to deal with than the child. Though
professing entire acquiescence in the representations
of this gentleman, as to the propriety of leaving her
son to pursue his studies without interruption, Mrs-
Byron had neither sense nor self-denial enough to
act up to these professions ; but, in spite of the
remonstrances of Dr. Glennie, and the injunctions
of Lord Carlisle, continued to interfere with and
thwart the progress of the boy's education in every
way that a fond, wrong-headed, and self-willed
mother could devise. In vain was it stated to her
that, in all the elemental parts of learning which are
requisite for a youth destined to a great public
school, young Byron was much behind other youths
of his age, and that, to retrieve this deficiency, the
undivided application of his whole time would be
necessary. Though appearing to be sensible of the
truth of these suggestions, she not the less em-
barrassed and obstructed the teacher in his task.
Not content with the interval between Saturday and
Monday, which, contrary to Dr. Glennie's wish, the
boy generally passed at Sloane Terrace, she would
frequently keep him at home a week beyond this
time, and, stiU further to add to the distraction of
such interruptions, collected around him a numerous
circle of young acquaintances, without exercising,
as may be supposed, much discrimination in her
choice. " How, indeed, could she ? " asks Dr.
Glennie — " Mrs. Byron was a total stranger to

48 NOTICES OF THE 1799.

English society and English manners ; with an ex-
terior far from prepossessing, an understanding where
nature had not been more bountiful, a mind almost
wholly without cultivation, and the peculiarities of
northern opinions, northern habits, and northern
accent, I trust I do no great prejudice to the me-
mory of my countrywoman, if I say Mrs. Byron was
not a Madame de Lambert, endowed with powers to
retrieve the fortune, and form the character and
manners, of a young nobleman, her son."

The interposition of Lord Carlisle, to whose autho-
rity it was found necessary to appeal, had more than
once given a check to these disturbing indulgences.
Sanctioned by such support, Dr. Glennie even ven-
tured to oppose himself to the privilege, so often
abused, of the usual visits on a Saturday ; and the
scenes which he had to encounter on each new case
of refusal were such as would have wearied out the
patience of any less zealous and conscientious
schoolmaster. ]Mrs. Byron, whose paroxysms of
passion were not, like those of her son, " silent
rages," would, on all these occasions, break out into
such audible fits of temper as it was impossible to
keep from reaching the ears of the scholars and the
servants ; and Dr. Glennie had, one day, the pain of
overhearing a school-fellow of his noble pupil say to
him, " Byron, your mother is a fool ; " to which the
other answered gloomily, " I know it." In con-
sequence of all this violence and impracticability of
temper, Lord Carlisle at length ceased to have any
intercourse with the mother of his ward ; and on a
further ai^plication from the instructor, for the ex-

1799. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 49

ertion of his inHuence, said, " I can have nothing
more to do with Mrs. Byron, — you must now
manage her as you can."

Among the books that lay accessible to the boys
in Dr. Glennie's study was a pamphlet written by
the brother of one of his most intimate friends,
entitled, " Narrative of the Shipwreck of the Juno
on the coast of Arracan, in the year 1795." The
writer had been the second officer of the ship, and
the account which he had sent home to his friends
of the sufferings of himself and his fellow-passengers
had appeared to them so touching and strange, that
they determined to publish it. The pamphlet at-
tracted but little, it seems, of public attention, but
among the young students of Dulvvich Grove it
was a favourite study ; and the impression which it
left on the retentive mind of Byron may have had
some share, perhaps, in suggesting that curious re-
search through all the various Accounts of Ship-
wrecks upon record, by which he prepared himself
to depict with such power a scene of the same de-
scription in Don Juan. The following affecting inci-
dent, mentioned by the author of this pamphlet, has
been adopted, it will be seen, with but little change
either of phrase or circumstance, by the poet : —

" Of those who were not immediately near me I
knew little, unless by their cries. Some struggled
hard, and died in great agony ; but it was not
always those whose strength was most impaired
that died the easiest, though, in some cases-, it
might have been so. I particularly remember the

VOL. I. Ji

50 NOTICES OF THE 1799.

following instances. Mr. Wade's servant, a stout
and healthy boy, died early and almost without a
groan ; while another of the same age, but of a less
promising appearance, held out much longer. The
fate of these unfortunate boys differed also in
another respect highly deserving of notice. Their
fathers were both in the fore-top when the lads
were taken ill. The father of Mr. Wade's boy
hearing of his son's illness, answered with indif-
ference, ' that he could do nothing for him,' and
left him to his fate. The other, when the accounts
reached him, hurried down, and watching for a favour-
able moment, craAvled on all fours along the weather
gunwale to his son, who was in the mizen rigging.
By that time, only three or four planks of the
quarter deck remained, just over the weather-
quarter gallery; and to this spot the unhappy man
led his son, making him fast to the rail to prevent
his being washed away. Whenever the boy was
seized with a fit of retching, the father lifted him
up and wiped the ftDam from his lips ; and, if a
shower came, he made him open his mouth to re-
ceive the drops, or gently squeezed them into it
from a rag. In this affecting situation both re-
mained four or five days, till the boy expired. The
unfortunate parent, as if unwilling to believe the
fact, then raised the body, gazed wistfully at it,
and, wlien he could no longer entertain any doubt,
watched it in silence till it was carried off by the
sea ; then, wrapping himself in a piece of canvass,
sunk dov.n and rose no more ; though he must have

1799. LIFE OF LOKD BVROX. 51

lived two days longer, as we judged from the quiver-
ins of liis limbs, when a wave broke over him." *

* The following is Lord Byron's version of this touching
narrative; and it will be felt, I think, by every reader, that this
is one of the instances in which poetry must be content to yield
the palm to prose. There is a pathos in the last sentences of
the seaman's recital, which the artifices of metre and rhyme
were sure to disturb, and which, indeed, no verses, however
beautiful, could half so naturally and powerfully express: —

" There were tv,o fathers in this ghastly crew,

And with them their two sons, of whom the one

Was more robust and hardy to the view.
But he died early ; and when he was gone,

His nearest messmate told his sire, who threw

One glance on him, and said, ' Heaven's will be done,

I can do nothing,' and he saw him thrown

Into the deep without a tear or groan.

'< The other fither had a weaklier child.

Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate ;
But the boy bore up long, and with a mild

And patient spirit held aloof his fate ;
Little he said, and now and then he smiled,

As if to w in a part from off the weight
He saw increasing on his father's heart,
With the deep, deadly thought, that they must part.

" And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised

His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam

From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed.

And when the wish'd-for shower at length was come.

And the boy's eyes, which tlie dull film half glazed,
Brighten'd, and for a moment seem'd to roam,

He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain

Into his dying child's mouth — but in vain.

52 NOTICES OF THE 1800.

It was probably during one of the vacations of
this year, that the boyish love for his young cousin,
Miss Parker, to which he attributes the glory of
having first inspired him with poetry, took pos-
session of his fancy. " jNIy first dash into poetry
(he says) was as early as 1 800. It was the ebul-
lition of a passion for my first cousin, Margaret
Parker (daughter and grand-daughter of the two
Admirals Parker), one of the most beautiful of
evanescent beings. I have long forgotten the verses,
but it would be difficult for me to forget her —
her dark eyes — her long eye-lashes — her com-
pletely Greek cast of face and figure I I was then
about twelve — she rather older, perhaps a year.
She died about a year or two afterwards, in conse-
quence of a fall, which injured her spine, and in-
duced consumption. Her sister Augusta (by some

•' The boy expired — tlie father held the clay.
And look'd upon it long, and when at last
Death left no doubt, and the dead burden lay

Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were pastj
He watch'd it -ivistfully, until away

'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast:
Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering.
And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering."

Don Juan, canto ii.

In the collection of " Shipwrecks and Disasters at Sea," to
which Lord Byron so skilfully had recourse for the technical
knowledge and facts out of which he has composed his own
powerful description, tlie reader will find the account of the
loss of the Juno here referred to.

1800.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 53

thought still more beautiful) died of the same
malady ; and it was, indeed, in attending her, that
INIargaret met with the accident which occasioned
her own death. My sister told me, that when she
went to see her, shortly before her death, upon ac-
cidentally mentioning my name, Margaret coloured
through the paleness of mortality to the eyes, to the
great astonishment of my sister, who (residing with
her grandmother. Lady Holderness, and seeing but
little of me, for family reasons,) knew nothing of ouv
attachment, nor could conceive why my name
should affect her at such a time. I knew nothing
of her illness, being at HaiTow and in the country,
till she was gone. Some years after, I made an
attempt at an elegy — a very dull one.*

" I do not recollect scarcely any thing equal to
the transparent beauty of my cousin, or to the
sweetness of her temper, during the short period of
our intimacy. She looked as if she had been made
out of a rainbow — all beauty and peace.

" My passion had its usual effects upon me — I
could not sleep — I could not eat — I could not rest :
and although I had reason to know that she loved
me, it was the texture of my life to think of the
time vvhich must elapse before we could meet again,
being usually about twelve hours of separation !
But I was a fool then, and am not much wiser now."

He had been nearly two years under the tuition
of Dr. Glennie, when his mother, discontented at
the slowness of his progress — though being, herself,

* This elegy is in his first (unpublished) volume.
E 3

5i NOTICES OF THE ISOO.

as we have seen, the prhicipal cause of it — en-
treated so urgently of Lord Carhsle to have him
removed to a pubUc school, that her wish was at
length acceded to ; and " accordingly," says Dr.
Glennie, " to Harrow he went, as little prepared as
it is natural to suppose from two years of elementary
instruction, thwarted by every art that could es-
trange the mind of youth from preceptor, from
school, and from all serious study."

This gentleman saw but little of Lord Byron
after he left his care; but, from the manner in which
both he and Mrs. Glennie spoke of their early
charge, it was evident that his subsequent career
had been watched by them with interest ; that they
had seen even his errors through the softening me-
dium of their first feeling towards him, and had
never, in his most irregular aberrations, lost the
traces of those fine qualities which they had loved
and admired in him when a child. Of the con-
stancy, too, of this feeling, Dr. Glennie had to
stand no ordinary trial, having visited Geneva in
1817, soon after Lord Bja-on had left it, when the
private character of the poet was in the very crisis
of its unpopularity, and when, among those friends
who knew that Dr. Glennie had once been his
tutor, it was made a frequent subject of banter with
this gentleman that he had not more strictly dis-
ciplined his pupil, or, to use their own words, " made
a better boy of him."

About the time when young Byron was removed,
for his education, to London, his nurse IMay Gray
left the service of Mrs. Byron, and returned to her

1800. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. ')5

native country, where she died about three years
since. She had married respectably, and in one of
her last illnesses was attended professionally by
Dr. Ewing of Aberdeen, who, having been always
an enthusiastic admirer of Lord Byron, was no less
surprised than delighted to find that the person
under his care had for so many years been an at-
tendant on his favourite poet. With avidity, as
may be supposed, he noted down from the lips of
his patient all the particulars she could remember
of his Lordship's early days ; and it is to the commu-
nications with which this gentleman has favoured
me, that I am indebted for many of the anecdotes
of that period which I have related.

As a mark of gratitude for her attention to him,
Byron liad, in parting with May Gray, presented
her with his watch, — the first of which he had ever
been possessor. This watch the faithful nurse pre-
served fondly through life, and, when she died, it
was given by her husband to Dr. Ewing, by whom,
as a relic of genius, it is equally valued. The
affectionate boy had also presented her with a full-
length miniature of himself, which was painted by
Kay of Edinburgh, in the year 1795, and which re-
presents him standing with a bow and arrows in
his hand, and a profusion of hair falling over his
shoulders. This curious little drawing has likewise
passed into the possession of Dr. Ewing.

The same thoughtful gratitude was evinced by
Byron towards the sister of this woman, his first
nurse, to whom he wrote some years after he left
Scotland, in the most cordial terms, mal<ing enquiries

E 4?

S6 NOTICES OF THE 1801.

of her welfare, and informing her, with much joy,
that he had at last got his foot so far restored as to
be able to put on a common boot, — " an event for
which he had long anxiously wished, and which he
was sure would give her great pleasure."

In the summer of the year 1801 he accompanied
his mother to Cheltenham, and the account which
he himself gives of his sensations at that period *
shows at what an early age those feelings that lead
to poetry had unfolded themselves in his heart. A
boy, gazing with emotion on the hills at sunset, be-
cause they remind him of the mountains among
which he passed his childhood, is already, in heart
and imagination, a poet. It was during their stay
at Cheltenham that a fortune-teller, whom his mother
consulted, pronounced a prediction concerning him
which, for some time, left a strong impression on his
mind. Mrs. Byron had, it seems, in her first visit
to this person, (who, if I mistake not, was the cele-
brated fortune-teller, Mrs. Williams,) endeavoured to
pass herself off as a maiden lady. The sibyl, how-
ever, was not so easily deceived; — she pronounced
her wise consulter to be not only a married woman,
but the mother of a son who was lame, and to whom,
among other events which she read in the stars, it
was predestined that his life should be in danger
from poison before he was of age, and that he should
be twice married, — the second time, to a foreign
lady. About two years afterwards he himself men-
tioned these particulars to the person from whom I

* See page 25.

1801.

LIFE OF LOUD BYRON. 57

heard the story, and said that the thought of tiie
first part of the prophecy very often occurred to him.
The latter part, however, seems to have been the
nearer guess of the two.

To a shy disposition, such as Byron's was in his
youth — and such as, to a certain degree, it continued
all his life — the transition from a quiet establish-
ment, Hke that of Dulwich Grove, to the bustle of a
great public school was sufficiently trying. Accord-
ingly, we find from his own account, that, for the
first year and a half, he " hated Harrow." The ac-
tivity, however, and sociableness of his nature soon
conquered this repugnance ; and, from being, as he
himself says, " a most unpopular boy," he rose at
length to be a leader in all the sports, schemes, and
mischief of the school.

For a general notion of his dispositions and capa-
cities at this period, we could not have recourse to
a more trustworthy or valuable authority than that
of the Rev. Dr. Drury, who was at this time head
master of the school, and to whom Lord Byron has
left on record a tribute of affection and respect,
which, like the reverential regard of Dry den for
Dr. Busby, will long associate together honourably
the names of the poet and the master. From this
venerable scholar I have received the following
brief, but important statement of the impressions
which his early intercourse with the young noble
left upon him : —

" Mr. Hanson, Lord Byron's solicitor, consigned
him to my care at the age of 13J, with remarks,
that his education had been neglected ; that he

58 NOTICES OF THE 1801.

was ill prepared for a public school, but that he
thought there was a cleverness about him. After
his departure I took my young disciple into my
study, and endeavoured to bring him forward by
enquiries as to his former amusements, employ-
ments, and associates, but with little or no effect ;
— and I soon found that a wild mountain colt had
been submitted to my management. But there was
mind in his eye. In the first place, it was necessary
to attach him to an elder boy, in order to familiarise
him with the objects before him, and with some
parts of the system in which he was to move. But
the information he received from his conductor gave
him no pleasure, when he heard of the advances of
some in the school, much younger than himself, and
conceived by his own deficiency that he should be
degraded, and humbled, by being placed below them.
This 1 discovered, and having committed him to the
care of one of the masters, as his tutor, I assured him
he should not be placed till, by diligence, he might
rank with those of his own age. He was pleased
with this assurance, and felt himself on easier terms
with his associates ; — for a degree of shyness hung
about him for some time. His manner and temper
soon convinced me, that iie might be led by a silken
string to a point, rather than by a cable ; — on that
principle I acted. After some continuance at Harrow,
and when the powers of his mind had begun to
expand, the late Lord Carlisle, his i-elation, desired
to see me in town ; — I waited on his Lordship. His
object was to inform me of Lord Byron's expect-
ations of property when he came of age, which he

1801. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 59

represented as contracted, and to enquire respecting
his abilities. On the former circumstance I made
no remark; as to the latter, I replied, ' He has
talents, my Lord, which will add lustre to his rankl
' Indeed ! ! ! ' said his Lordship, with a degree of sur-
prise, that, according to my feeling, did not express
in it all the satisfaction I expected.

" The circumstance to which you allude, as to his
declamatory powers, was as follows. The upper part
of the school composed declamations, which, after a
revisal by the tutors, were submitted to the master :
to him the authors repeated them, that they might
be improved in manner and action, before their
public delivery. I certainly was much pleased Avith
Lord Byron's attitude, gesture, and delivery, as well
as with his composition. All who spoke on that day
adhered, as usual, to the letter of their composition,
as, in the earlier part of his delivery, did Lord Byron.
But to my surprise he suddenly diverged from the
written composition, with a boldness and rapidity
sufficient to alarm me, lest he should fail in memory
as to the conclusion. There was no failure : — he
came round to the close of his composition without
discovering any impediment and irregularity on the
whole. I questioned him, why he had altered his
declamation ? He declared he had made no alter-
ation, and did not know, in speaking, that he had
deviated from it one letter. I believed him ; and
from a knowledge of his tem[)erament am con-
vinced, that, fully impressed with the sense and
substance of the subject, he was hurried on to ex-
pressions and colourings more striking than what his
pen had expressed."

60 NOTICES OF THE 1801.

In communicating to me these recollections of his
illustrious pupil, Dr. Drury has added a circumstance
which shows how strongly, even in all the pride of
his fame, that awe with which he had once regarded
the opinions of his old master still hung around the
poets sensitive mind : —

" After my retreat from Harrow, I received from
him two very affectionate letters. In my occasional
visits subsequently to London, when he had fasci-
nated the public with his productions, I demanded
of him, why, as in duty hound, he had sent none to
me ? ' Because,' said he, ' you are the only man
I never wish to read them : ' — but, in a few mo-
ments, he added — ' What do you think of the
Corsair?'"

I shall now lay before the reader such notices of
his school-life as I find scattered through the various
note-books he has left behind. Coming, as they do,
from his own pen, it is needless to add, that they
afford the liveliest and best records of this period
that can be furnished.

" Till I was eighteen years old (odd as it may
seem) I had never read a review. But while at
Harrow, my general information was so great on
modern topics as to induce a suspicion that I could
only collect so much information from Reviezvs,
because I was never seen reading, but always idle,
and in mischief, or at play. The truth is, that I read
eating, read in bed, read when no one else read, and
had read all sorts of reading since I was five years
old, and yet never met with a Review, which is the
only reason I know of why I should not have read

1801 — 5. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 61

them. But it is true ; for I remember when Hun-
ter and Curzon, in 1804-, told me this opinion at
Harrow, I made them laugh by my ludicrous as-
tonishment in asking them ' W7iat is a Review?'
To be sure, they were then less common. In three
years more, I was better acquainted with that same ;
but the first I ever read was in 1806-7.

" At school I was (as I have said) remarked for
the extent and readiness of my general information ;
but in all other respects idle, capable of great sud-
den exertions, (such as thirty or forty Greek hexa-
meters, of course with such prosody as it pleased
God,) but of ievf continuous drudgeries. I\Iy qua-
lities were much more oratorical and martial than
poetical, and Dr. Drury, my grand patron, (our head
master,) had a great notion that I should turn out
an orator, from my fluency, my turbulence, my voice,
my copiousness of declamation, and my action,* I
remember that my first declamation astonished him
into some unwonted (for he was economical of such)
and sudden compliments, before the declaimers at
our first rehearsal. My first Harrow verses, (that is,
English, as exercises,) a translation of a chorus from

* For the display of his declamatory powers, on tlie speech-
days, he selected always the most vehement passages, — such
as the speech of Zanga over the body of Alonzo, and Lear's
address to the storm. On one of these public occasions, when
it was arranged that he should take the part of Drances, and
young Peel that of Turnus, Lord Byron suddenly changed his
mind, and preferred tlie speech of Latinus, — fearing, it was
supposed, some ridicule from the inappropriate taunt of Tur-
nus, "Ventos^ \n\\n^u3i, pedibus/]ue fugacihus istis."

62 NOTICES OF THE ISOI — 5.

the Prometheus of ^'Eschylus, were received by hhii
but coolly. No one had the least notion that I should
subside into poesy.

" Peel, the orator and statesman, ( ' that was, or is,
or is to be,') was my form-fellow, and we were both
at the top of our remove (a public-school phrase).
We were on good terms, but his brother was my
intimate friend. There were always great hopes of
Peel, amongst us all, masters and scholars — and he
has not disajipointed them. As a scholar he was
greatly my superior ; as a declaimer and actor, I
was reckoned at least his equal ; as a schoolboy, ozd
of school, I was always iti scrapes, and he never ;
and in school, he always knew his lesson, and I rarely,
— but when I knew it, I knew it nearly as well. In
general information, history, &c. &c., I think I was
his superior, as well as of most boys of my standing.

" The prodigy of our school-days was George Sin-
clair (son of Sir John) ; he made exercises for half
the school, {literally) verses at will, and themes
without it. * * * He was a friend of mine, and in
the same remove, and used at times to beg me to
let him do my exercise, — a request always most
readily accorded upon a pinch, or when I wanted to
do something else, which was usually once an hour.
On the other hand, he was pacific and I savage ; so
I fought for him, or thrashed others for him, or
thrashed himself to make him thrash others when it
was necessary, as a point of honour and stature,
that he should so chastise ; — or we talked politics,
for he was a great politician, and were very good

J801— 5. 1-IFE OF LORD BYROX. 63

friends. I have some of his letters, written to rae
from school, still. *

" Clayton was another school-monster of learning,
and talent, and hope ; but what has become of him
I do not know. He was certainly a genius.

" My school-friendships were with trie passions f ,
(for I was always violent,) but I do not know that
there is one which has endured (to be sure some
have been cut short by death) till now. That with
Lord Clare begun one of the earliest, and lasted
longest — being only interrupted by distance — that
I know of. I never hear the word ' Clare ' without
a beating of the heart even now, and I write it with
the feelings of 1803-4-5, ad infinitum."

The following extract is from another of his manu-
script journals : —

" At Harrow I fought my way very fairly.:}: I think

* His letters to Mr. Sinclair, in return, are unluckily lost,

one of them, as tliis gentleman tells me, having been highly

characteristic of the jealous sensitiveness of his noble school-
fellow, being written under the impression of some ideal
slight, and beginning, angrily, "Sir."

f On a leaf of one of his note-books, dated 1808, I find the
following passage from Marmontel, which no doubt struck him
as applicable to the enthusiasm of his own youthful friend-
ships : — " L'amitit', qui dans le monde est a peine un senti-
ment, est une passion dans les cloitres." — Contes Mormir.

I Mr. D'Israeli, in his ingenious work " On the Literary
Character," has given it as his opinion, that a disinclination to
athletic sports and exercises will be, in general, found among
the peculiarities which mark a youthful genius. In support of
this notion he quotes Beattie, who thus describes his idea}
minstrel : —

64) NOTICES OF THE 1801—5

I lost but one battle out of seven ; and that vvas to

H ; — and the rascal did not win it, but by the

unfair treatment of his own boarding-house, where
we boxed — I had not even a second. I never for-
gave him, and I should be sorry to meet him now,
as I am sure we should quarrel. INIy most memo-
rable combats were with Morgan, Rice, Rainsford,
and Lord Jocelyn, — but we were always friendly
afterwards. I was a most unpopular boy, but led
latterly, and have retained many of my school friend-
ships, and all my dislikes — except to Dr. Butler,
whom I treated rebelliously, and have been sorry
ever since. Dr. Drury, whom I plagued sufficiently

" Concourse, and noise, and toil, he ever fled.
Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray

Of squabbling imps, but to the forest sped."
His highest authority, however, is Milton, who says of him-
self,

" When I was yet a child, no childish play

To me was pleasing."
Such general rules, however, are as little applicable to the dispo-
sitions of men of genius as to their powers. If, in the instances
which Mr. D'Israeli adduces, an indisposition to bodily exertion
was manifested, as many others may be cited in which the directly
opposite propensity was remarkable. In war, the most turbu-
lent of exercises, jEschylus, Dante, Camoens, and a long list
of other poets, distinguished themselves ; and, though it may
be granted that Horace was a bad rider, and Virgil no tennis-
player, yet, on tbe other hand, Dante was, we know, a falconer
as well as swordsman ; Tasso, expert both as swordsman and
dancer ; Alfieri, a great rider; Klopstock, a skaiter ; Cowper,
famous, in his youth, at cricket and foot-ball ; and Lord
Byron, pre-eminent in all sorts of exercises.

1801 — 5. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 65

too, was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too,)
friend I ever had — and I look upon him still as a
father.

" P. Hunter, Curzon, Long, and Tatersall, were
my principal friends. Clare, Dorset, C^. Gordon,
De Bath, Claridge, and Jno. Wingfield, were my
juniors and favourites, whom I spoilt by indulgence.
Of all human beings, I was, perhaps, at one time,
the most attached to poor Wingfield, who died at
Coimbra, 1811, before I returned to England."

One of the most striking results of the English
system of education is, that while in no country are
there so many instances of manly friendships early-
formed and steadily maintained, so in no other
conntry, perhaps, are the feelings towards the pa-
rental home so early estranged, or, at the best,
feebly cherished. Transplanted as boys are from
the domestic circle, at a time of life when the af-
fections are most disposed to cling, it is but natural
that they should seek a substitute for the ties of
home * in those boyish friendships which they form
at school, and which, connected as they are with tlie
scenes and events over which youth threw its charm,

* " At eight or nine years of age the boy goes to school.
From that moment he becomes a stranger in his father's house.
The course of parental kindness is interrupted. The smiles
of his mothe)', those tender admonitions, and the solicitous
care of both his parents, are no longer before his eyes —
year after year he feels himself more detached from them, till
at last he is so effectually weaned from the connection, as to find
himself happier any where than in their company." — Cowper,
Letters.

VOL. I. F

GQ NOTICES OF THE ISOI— 5.

retain ever after tlie strongest hold upon their
hearts. In Ireland, and I believe also in France,
where the system of education is more domestic, a
different result is accordingly observable : — the
paternal home comes in for its due and natural
share of affection, and the growth of friendships, out
of this domestic circle, is proportionably diminished.
To a youth like Byron, abounding with the most
passionate feelings, and finding sympathy with only
the ruder parts of his nature at home, the little
world of school afforded a vent for his affections,
which was sure to call them forth in their most
ardent form. Accordingly, the friendships which
he contracted, both at school and college, were little
less than what he himself describes them, " pas-
sions." The want he felt at home of those kindred
dispositions, which greeted him among " Ida's social
band," is thus strongly described in one of his early
poems * : —

* Even previously to any of these school friendships, he had
formed the same sort of romantic attachment to a boy of his own
age, the son of one of his tenants at Newstead ; and there are
two or three of his most juvenile poems, in which he dwells no
less upon the inequality than the warmth of this friendship.
Thus : —

" Let Folly smile, to view the names

Of thee and me in friendship twined;
Yet Virtue will have greater claims

To love, than rank with Vice combined.

And though unequal is thy fate,

Since title deck'd my higher birth,
Yet envy not this gaudy state,

Thine is the pride of modest wortli.

1801 :>. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 67

" Is there no cause beyond the common claim,
Endear'd to all in childhood's very name?
Ah ! sure some stronger impulse vibrates here,
Which whispers, Friendship will be doubly dear
To one who thus for kindi-ed hearts must roam.
And seek abroad the love denied at home :
Those hearts, dear Ida, have I found in thee,
A home, a world, a paradise to me."

This early volume, indeed, abounds with the most
affectionate tributes to his school-fellows. Even his
expostulations to one of them, who had given him
some cause for complaint, are thus tenderly con-
veyed : —

" You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence,
If danger demanded, were wholly your own ;
You know me unaltered by years or by distance,
Devoted to love and to friendship alone.

" You knew — but away with the vain retrospection.
The bond of afl'ection no longer endures.
Too late you may droop o'er the fond recollection.
And sigh for tlie friend who was formerly yours."

The following description of what he felt after
leaving Harrow, when he encountered in the world
any of his old school-fellows, falls far short of the
scene which actually occurred but a few years before
his death in Italy, — when, on meeting with his
friend, Lord Clare, after a long separation, he was

" Our souls at least congenial meet.
Nor can tliy lot my rank disgrace ;
Our intercourse is not less sweet

Since worth of rank supplies the place.

" November, 1802."
F 2

68 NOTICES OF THE 1801 — 5,

affected almost to tears by the recollections which
rushed on him.

" If chance some well remember'd face,
Some old companion of my early race,
Advance to claim his friend with honest joy,
]My eyes, my heart proclaim'd me yet a boy ;
The glittering scene, the fluttering groups around,
Were all forgotten when my friend was found."

It will be seen, by the extracts from his memo-
randum-book, which I have given, that Mr. Peel was
one of his contemporaries at Harrow ; and the fol-
lowing interesting anecdote of an occurrence in
which both were concerned, has been related to me
by a friend of the latter gentleman, in whose words
I shall endeavour as nearly as possible to give it.

While Lord Byron and INIr. Peel were at Harrow
together, a tyrant, some few years older, whose name
was ****** J claimed a right to fag little Peel,
which claim (whether rightly or wrongly I know
not) Peel resisted. His resistance, however, was in
vain : — ****** ^ot only subdued him, but de-
termined also to punish the refractory slave ; and
proceeded forthwith to put this determination in
practice, by inflicting a kind of bastinado on the
inner fleshy side of the boy's arm, which, during the
operation, was twisted round with some degree of
technical skill, to render the pain more acute. While
the stripes were succeeding each other, and poor
Peel writhing under them, Byron saw and felt for
the misery of his friend; and although he knew
that he was not strong enough to fight ******
with any hope of success, and that it was dangerous

1801 5. LIBE OF LORD BYRON, 69

even to approach him, he advanced to the scene of
action, and with a blush of rage, tears in his eyes,
and a voice trembling between terror and indignation,
asked very humbly if ***** * would be pleased to
tell him " how many stripes he meant to inflict? "
— " Why," returned the executioner, " you little
rascal, what is that to you?" — " Because, if you
please," said Byron, holding out his arm, " I would
take half! "

There is a mixture of simplicity and magnanimity
in this little trait which is truly heroic ; and however
we may smile at the friendships of boys, it is but
rarely that the friendship of manhood is capable of
any thing half so generous.

Among his school favourites a great number, it
may be observed, were nobles or of noble family —
Lords Clare and Delaware, the Duke of Dorset and
young Wingfield — and that their rank may have
had some share in first attracting his regard to them,
might appear from a circumstance mentioned to me
by one of his school-fellows, who, being monitor one
day, had put Lord Delaware on his list for punish-
ment. Byron, hearing of this, came up to him, and
said, " Wildman, I find you've got Delaware on your
list — pray don't lick him." — " Why not ? " —
" Why, I don't know — except that he is a brother
peer. But pray don't." It is almost needless to add,
that his interference, on such grounds, was any thing
but successful. One of the few merits, indeed, of
public schools is, that they level, in some degree,
these artificial distinctions, and that, however the
peer may have his revenge in the world afterwards,

F 3

70 NOTICES OF THE 1£01— 5.

the young plebeian is, for once,atleast, on something
like an equality with him.

It is true that Lord Byron s high notions of rank
were, in his boyish days, so little disguised or soften-
ed down, as to draw upon him, at times, the ridi-
cule of his companions ; and it was at Dulwich, I
think, that from his frequent boast of the superiority
of an old English barony over all the later creations
of the peerage, he got the nickname, among the
boys, of " the Old English Baron." But it is a mis-
take to suppose that, either at school or afterwards,
he was at all guided in the selection of his friends
by aristocratic sympathies. On the contrary, like
most very proud persons, he chose his intimates in
general from a rank beneath his own, and those boys
whom he ranked as friends at school were mostly of
this description ; while the chief charm that recom-
mended to him his younger favourites was their in-
feriority to himself in age and strength, which
enabled him to indulge his generous pride by taking
upon himself, when necessary, the office of their
protector.

Among those wliom he attached to himself by
this latter tie, one of the earliest (though he has
omitted to mention his name) was William Harness,
who at the time of his entering Harrow was ten years
of age, while Byron was fourteen. Young Harness,
still lame from an accident of his cliildhood, and but
just recovered from a severe illness, was ill fitted to
struggle with the difficulties of a public school ; and
Byron, one day, seeing him bullied by a boy much
older and stronger than himself, interfered and took

1801—5. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. (1

his part. The next day, as the little fellon- was stand-
ing alone, Byron came to him and said, " Harness,
if any one bullies you, tell me, and I'll thrash him, if
I can." The young champion kept his word, and
they were from this time, notwithstanding the differ-
ence of their ages, inseparable friends. A coolness,
liowever, subsequently arose between them, to which,
and to the juvenile friendship it interrupted. Lord
Byron, in a letter addressed to Harness six years
afterwards, alludes with so much kindly feeling, so
much delicacy and frankness, that I am tempted to
anticipate the date of the letter, and give an extract
from it here.

" We both seem perfectly to recollect, with a mix-
ture of pleasure and regret, the hours we once
passed together, and I assure you, most sincerely,
they are numbered among the happiest of my brief
chronicle of enjoyment. I am now getting into years,
that is to say, I was twenty Simox\X\\ ago, and another
year will send me into the world to run my career
of folly with the rest. I was then just fourteen, —
you were almost the first of my Harrow friends,
certainly the^V*^ in my esteem, if not in date ; but
an absence from Harrow for some time, shortly
after, and new connections on your side, and the
difference in our conduct (an advantage decidedly
in your favour) from that turbulent and riotous dis-
position of mine, which impelled me into every spe-
cies of mischief, — all these circumstances combined
to destroy an intimacy, which affection urged me to
continue, and memory compels me to regret. But
there is not a circumstance attending that period,

F 4-

72 NOTICES OF THE 1801— 5.

liardl}'^ a sentence we exchanged, which is not im-
pressed on my mind at this moment. I need not say
more, — this assurance alone must convince you, had
I considered them as trivial, they would have been
less indelible. How well I recollect the perusal of
your ' first flights !' There is another circumstance
you do not know ; — \\\e first lines I ever attempted
at Harrow were addressed to you. You were to
have seen them ; but Sinclair had the copy in his
possession when we went home ; — and, on our re-
turn, we were strangers. They were destroyed, and
certainly no great loss ; but you will perceive from
this circumstance my opinions at an age when we
cannot be hypocrites,

" I have dwelt longer on this theme than I intend-
ed, and I shall now conclude with what I ought to
have begun. We were once friends, — nay, we have
always been so, for our separation was the effect of
chance, not of dissension. I do not know how far
our destinations in life may throw us together, but
if opportunity and inclination allow you to waste a
thought on such a hare-brained being as myself, you
will find me at least sincere, and not so bigoted to
my faults as to involve others in the consequences.
Will you sometimes write to me ? I do not ask it
often ; and, if we meet, let us be what we should be,
and what we were.''

Of the tenaciousness with which, as we see in this
letter, he clung to all the impressions of his youth,
there can be no stronger proof than the very interest-
ing fact, that, while so little of his own boyish corre-
spondence has been preserved, there were found

1801—5.

LIFE Oh- LORD BYROX. 73

among his papers almost all the notes and letters
which his principal school favom-ites, even the
youngest, had ever addressed to him ; and, in some
cases, where the youthful writers had omitted to
date their scrawls, his faithful memory had, at an
interval of years after, supplied the deficiency.
Among these memorials, so fondly treasured by him,
there is one which it would be unjust not to cite, as
well on account of the manly spirit that dawns
through its own childish language, as for the sake of
the tender and amiable feeling which, it will be
seen, the re-perusal of it, in other days, awakened
in Byron : —

« TO THE LORD BYRON, &c. &c.

•« Harrow on the Hill, July 28. 1805.

" Since you have been so unusually unkind to me,
in calling me names whenever you meet me, of late,
I must beg an explanation, wishing to know whether
you choose to be as good friends with me as ever.
I must own that, for this last month, you have en-
tirely cut me, — for, I suppose, your new cronies.
But tliink not that I will (because you choose to
take into your head some whim or other) be always
going up to you, nor do, as I observe certain other
fellows doing, to regain your friendship ; nor think
that I am your friend either through interest, or
because you are bigger and older than I am. No,
— it never was so, nor ever shall be so. I was only
your friend, and am so still, — unless you go on in
this way, calling me names whenever 3'ou see me.

7'"1< NOTICES OF THE 1801 — b.

I am sure you may easily perceive I do not like it ;
therefore, why should you do it, unless you wish
that I should no longer be your friend ? And why
should I be so, if you treat me unkindly ? I have
no interest in being so. Though you do not let the
boys bully me, yet if i/ou treat me unkindly, that is
to me a great deal worse.

" I am no hypocrite, Byron, nor will I, for your
pleasure, ever suffer you to call me names, if you
wish me to be your friend. If not, I cannot help it.
I am sure no one can say that I will cringe to regain
a friendship that you have rejected. Why should I
do so? Am I not your equal? Therefore, what
interest can I have in doing so ? When we meet
again in the world, (that is, if you choose it,) ?/oii
cannot advance or promote me, nor I you. There-
fore I beg and entreat of you, if you value my
friendship, — which, by your conduct, I am sure I
cannot think you do, — not to call me the names
you do, nor abuse me. Till that time, it will be out of
my power to call you friend. I shall be obliged for
an answer as soon as it is convenient ; till then

I remain yours,

* *

" I cannot say your friend."

Endorsed on this letter, in the handwriting of
Lord Byron, is the following: —

" This and another letter were written at HarroM',
by my then, and I hope evei; beloved friend. Lord * *,
when we were both school-boys, and sent to my
study in consequence of some childish misunder-

1801 — 5. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 7o

Standing, — the only one which ever arose between
us. It was of sliort duration, and I retain this note
solely for the purpose of submitting it to his perusal,
that we may smile over the recollection of the
insignificance of our first and last quarrel.

" Byron."

In a letter, dated two years afterwards, from the
same boy*, there occurs the following characteristic

* There are, in other letters of the same writer, some curious
proofs of the passionate and jealous sensibility of Byron. From
one of them, for instance, we collect that he had taken offence
at his young friend's addressing him " my dear Byron," instead
of " my dearest ; " and from another, that his jealousy had
been awakened by some expressions of regret which liis cor-
respondent had expressed at the departure of Lord John
Russell for Spain : —

" You tell me," says the young letter-writer, " that you never
knew me in such an agitation as I was when I wrote my last
letter ; and do you not think I had reason to be so? I received
a letter from you on Saturday, telling me you were going
abroad for six years in March, and on Sunday John Russell
set off for Spain. Was not that sufficient to make me rather
melancholy? But how can you possibly imagine that I was
more agitated on John Russell's account, who is gone for a
few months, and from whom I shall hear constantly, tlian at
your going for six years to travel over most part of the world,
when I shall hardly ever hear from you, and perhaps may
never see you again ?

'' It has very much hurt me your telling me that you miglit
be excused if you felt rather jealous at my expressing more
sorrow for the departure of the friend who was with me, than
of that one wlio was absent. It is quite impossible you can
think I am more sorry for John's absence than I shall be for
yours ; — I shall therefore finish the subject."

76 KOTICES OF THE 1801 — 5.

trait: — " I think, by your last letter, that you are
very much piqued with most of your friends ; and,
if I am not much mistaken, you are a little piqued
with me. In one part you say, ' There is little or
no doubt a few years, or months, will render us as
politely indifferent to each other as if we had never
passed a portion of our time together.' Indeed,
Byron, you wrong me, and I have no doubt — at
least, I hope — you wrong yourself."

As that propensity to self-delineation, which so
strongly pervades his maturer works is, to the full,
as predominant in his early productions, there needs
no better record of his mode of life, as a school-boy,
than what these fondly circumstantial effusions supply.
Thus the sports lie delighted and excelled in are
enumerated : —

" Yet when confinement's lingering hour was done,
Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one :
Together we iinpeil'd the flying ball,

Together join'd in cricket's manly toil,

Or shared the produce of the river's spoil ;

Or, plunging from the green, declining shore,

Our pliant limbs the buoyant waters bore ;

In every element, unchanged, the same,

All, all that brothers should be, but the name."

The danger which he incurred in a fight with
some of the neighbouring farmers — an event well
remembered by some of his school-fellows — is thus
commemorated . —

" Still I remember, in the factious strife,
The rustic's musket aim'd against my life;
High poised in air the massy weapon hung,
A cry of horror burst from every tongue :

1801 — 5. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 77

Whilst I, in combat with another foe,
Fought on, unconscious of the impending blow.
Your arm, brave boy, arrested his career —
Forward you sprung, insensible to fear ;
Disarm'd and baffled by your conquering hand,
The grovelling savage roll'd upon the sand."

Some feud, it appears, had arisen on the subject
of the cricket-ground, between these "clods" (as in
school-language they are called) and the boys, and
one or two skirmishes had previously taken place.
But the engagement here recorded was accidentally
brought on by the breaking up of school and the
dismissal of the volunteers from drill, both happening,
on that occasion, at the same hour. This circum-
stance accounts for the use of the musket, the butt-
end of which Avas aimed at Byron's head, and would
have felled him to the ground, but for the interpo-
sition of his friend Tatersall, a lively, high-spirited boy,
whom he addresses here under the name of Davus.

Notwithstanding these general habits of play and
idleness, which might seem to indicate a certain
absence of reflection and feeling, there were moments
when the youthful poet would retire thoughtfully
within himself, and give way to moods of musing
uncongenial with the usual cheerfulness of his age.
They show a tomb in the churchyard at Harrow,
commanding a view over Windsor, which was so well
known to be his favourite resting-place, that the boys
called it " Byron's tomb * ;" and here, they say, he

* To this tomb he thus refers in the " Childish Recollec-
tions," as printed in his first unpublished volume : —
" Oft when, oppress'd with sad, foreboding gloom,
1 sat reclined upon our favourite tomb."

78 NOTICES OF THE ISOi— 5.

used to sit for hours, wrapt up ia thought, — brooding
lonelily over the first stin-ings of passion and genius
in his soul, and occasionally, perhaps, indulging in
those bright forethoughts of fame, under the in-
fluence of which, when little more than fifteen years
of asre, he wrote these remarkable lines : —

" My epitaplt shall be my name alone ;
If that with honour fail to crown my clay.
Oh may no other fame my deeds repay ;
That, only that, shall single out the spot,
By that remember'd, or with that forgot."

In the autumn of 1802, he passed a short time
with his mother at Bath, and entered, rather pre-
maturely, into some of the gaieties of the place.
At a masquerade given by Lady Riddel, he appeared
in the character of a Turkish boy, — a sort of antici-
pation, both in beauty and costume, of his own young
Selim, in " The Bride." On his entering into the
house, some person in the crowd attempted to snatch
the diamond crescent from his turban, but was pre-
vented by the prompt interposition of one of the
party. The lady who mentioned to me this circum-
stance, and who was well acquainted with Mrs.
Byron at that period, adds the following remark in
tlie communication with which she has favoured
me : — "At Bath I saw a good deal of Lord Byron, —
his mother frequently sent for me to take tea v/ith
her. He was always very pleasant and droll, and,
vvlicn conversing about absent friends, showed a
slight turn for satire, which after-years, as is well
known, gave a finer edge to. "

We come now to an event in his life which, ac-

ISOl — 5. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 79

cording to his own deliberate persuasion, exercised
a lasting and paramount influence over the whole of
his subsequent character and career

It was in the year 1803 that his heart, already
twice, as we have seen, possessed with the childish
notion that it loved, conceived an attachment which
— young as he was, even then, for such a feeling —
sunk so deep into his mind as to give a colour to all
his future life. That unsuccessful loves are gener-
ally the most lasting, is a truth, however sad, which
unluckily did not require this instance to confirm it.
To the same cause, I fear, must be traced the per-
fect innocence and romance which distinguish this
very early attachment to Miss Chaworth from the
many others that succeeded, without effacing it in
his heart ; — making it the only one whose details
can be entered into with safety, or whose results,
however darkening their influence on himself, can
be dwelt upon with pleasurable interest by others.

On leaving Bath, Mrs. Byron took up her abode,
in lodgings, at Nottingham, — Newstead Abbey being
at that time let to I^ord Grey de Iluthen, — and during
the Harrow vacations of this year, she was joined
there by her son. So attached was he to Newstead,
that even to be in its neighbourhood was a delight
to him; and before he became acquainted with Lord
Grey, he used sometimes to sleep, for a night, at the
small house near the gate which is still known by the
name of " The Hut." * An intimacy, however, soon

* I find this circumstance, of his having occasionally slept
at trie Hut, thougli asserted by one of the old servants, much
doubted by others.

80 NOTICES OF THE 1801 — S-

sprang up between him and his noble tenant, and an
apartment in the abbey was from thenceforth ahvays
at his service. To the family of Miss Chaworth, wiio
resided at Annesley, in the immediate neighbourhood
of Newstead, he had been made known, some time
before, in London, and now renewed his acquaintance
with them. The young heiress herseh^ combined
with the many worklly advantages that encircled
her, much personal beauty, and a disposition the most
amiable and attaching. Though already fully alive
to her charms, it was at the period of which we are
speaking that the young poet, who was then in his
sixteenth year, while the object of his admiration
was about two years older, seems to have drunk
deepest of that fascination whose effects were to be
so lasting ; — six short summer weeks which he now
passed in her company being sufficient to lay the
foundation of a feeling for all life.

He used, at first, though offered a bed at Annesley,
to return every night to Newstead, to sleep ; alleging
as a reason that he was afraid of the family jMctures
of the Chaworths, — that he fancied " they had
taken a grudge to him on account of the duel, and
would come down from their frames at night to
haunt him."* At length, one evening, he said

* It may possibly have been the recollection of these pic-
tures that suggested to him the following lines in the Siege of
Corinth : —

" Like the figures on arras that gloomily glare,
Stirr'd by tlie breath of the wintry air,
So seen by the dying lamp's fitful light,
Lifeless, but life-like and awful to sight ;
As they seem, through the dimness, about to come down
From the shadowy wall where their images frown."

]S01— 5. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 81

gravely to Miss Chaworth and her cousin, " In going
home last night I saw a bogle ; " — which Scotch
term being wholly unintelligible to the young ladies,
he explained that he had seen a ghost, and would not
therefore return to Newstead that evening. From
this time he always slept at Annesley during the
remainder of his visit, which was interrupted only
by a short excursion to Matlock and Castleton, in
which he had the happiness of accompanying Miss
Chaworth and her party, and of which the following
interesting notice appears in one of his memorandum-
books : —

" When I was fifteen years of age. It happened
that, in a cavern in Derbyshire, I had to cross in a
boat (in which two people only could lie down) a
stream which flows under a rock, with the rock so
close upon the water as to admit the boat only to be
pushed on by a ferryman (a sort of Charon) who
wades at the stern, stooping all the time. The com-
})anion of my transit was M. A. C, with whom I
had been long in love, and never told it, though she
had discovered it without. I recollect my sensations,
but cannot describe them, and it is as well. We
were a party, a Mr. W., two Miss W.s, Mr. and
Mrs. CI— ke, Miss R. and tmj M. A. C. Alas ! why
do I say my ? Our union would have healed feuds
in which blood had been shed by our fathers, — it
would have joined lands broad and rich, it would
have joined at least one heart, and two persons not
ill matched in years (she is two years my elder),
and — and — and — what has been the result ? "

In the dances of the evening at Matlock, Miss

VOL. I. G

82 NOTICES OF THE 1801 — 5.

Chawortli, of course, joined, while her lover sat
looking on, solitary and mortified. It is not impos-
sible, indeed, that the dislike which he always
expressed for this amusement may have originated
in some bitter pang, felt in his youth, on seeing
" the lady of his love " led out by others to the gay
dance from which he was himself excluded. On
the present occasion, the young heiress of Annesley
having had for her partner (as often happens at
Matlock) some person with whom she was wholly
unacquainted, on her resuming her seat, Byron
said to her pettishly, " I hope you like your
fi'iend ? " The words were scarce out of his lips
when he was accosted by an ungainly-looking
Scotch lady, who rather boisterously claimed him as
" cousin," and was putting his pride to the torture
with her vulgarity, when he heard the voice of his
fair companion retorting archly in his ear, " I hope
you like your friend ? "

His time at Annesley was mostly passed in riding
with Miss Chaworth and her cousin, sitting in idle
reverie, as was his custom, pulling at his handker-
chief, or in firing at a door which opens upon the
terrace, and which still, I believe, bears the marks
of his shots. But his chief delight was in sitting to
hear Miss Chaworth play ; and the pretty Welsh air,
" Mary Anne," was (partly, of course, on account
of the name) his especial favourite. During all this
time he had the pain of knowing that the heart of
her he loved was occupied by another ; — that, as
lie himself expresses it,

*' Her sighs were not for him ; to lier he was
Even as a brother — but no more."

1801—5. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 83

Neither is it, indeed, probable, had even her af- '
fections been disengaged, that Lord Byron would,
at this time, have been selected as the object of
them. A seniority of two years gives to a girl, " on
the eve of womanhood," an advance into life with
which the boy keeps no proportionate pace. Miss
Chaworth looked upon Byron as a mere school-boy.
He was in his manners, too, at that period, rough
and odd, and (as I have heard from more than one
quarter) by no means popular among girls of his own ■
age. If, at any moment, however, he had flattered
himself with the hope of being loved by her, a cir-
cumstance mentioned in his " Memoranda," as one
of the most painful of those humiliations to which
the defect in his foot had exposed him, must have
let the truth in, with dreadful certainty, upon his
heart. He either was told of, or overheard. Miss
Chaworth saying to her maid, " Do you think I
could care any thing for that lame boy ? " This
speech, as he himself described it, was like a
shot through his heart. Though late at night when
he heard it, he instantly darted out of the house, and
scarcely knowing whither he ran, never stopped till
he found himself at Newstead.

The picture which he has drawn of his youthful
love, in one of the most interesting of his poems,
<' The Dream," shows how genius and feeling can
elevate the realities of this life, and give to the com-
monest events and objects an undying lustre. The
old hall at Annesley, under the name of " the antique
oratory," will long call up to fancy the " maiden and
the youth" who once stood in it : while the image

G 2

84; NOTICES OF THE 1801—5.

of the " lover's steed," thougli suggested by the un-
romantic race-ground of Nottingham, will not the
less conduce to the general charm of the scene, and
share a portion of that light which only genius
could shed over it.

He appears already, at this boyish age, to have
been so far a proficient in gallantry as to know the use
that may be made of the trophies of former triumphs
in achieving new ones ; for he used to boast, with
much pride, to Miss Chaworth, of a locket which
some fair favourite had given him, and which pro-
bably may have been a present from that pretty
cousin, of whom he speaks with such warmth in one
of til e notices already quoted. He was also, it appears,
not a little aware of his own beauty, which, notwith-
standing the tendency to corpulence derived from
his mother, gave promise, at this time, of that pe-
culiar expression into which his features refined and
kindled afterwards.

With the summer holidays ended this dream of
his youth. He saw Miss Chaworth once more in
the succeeding year, and took his last farewell of
her (as he himself used to relate) on that bilinear An-
nesley * which, in his poem of " The Dream, " he

* Among the unpublished verses of his in my possession,
I find the following fragment, written not long after this
period : —

" Hills of Annesley, bleak and barren,

Where my thoughtless childhood stray'd,
How the northern tempests, warring,
Howl above thy tufted shade !

1801—5. LIFE OF LORD BYKON. 85

describes so happily as " crowned with a pecuUar
diadem." No one, he declared, could have told how
much he felt — for his countenance was calm, and
his feelings restrained. " The next time I see you,"
said he in parting with her, " I suppose you will
be Mrs. Chaworth*, " — and her answer was, " I
hope so." It was before this interview that he
wrote, with a pencil, in a volume of Madame de
Maintenon's letters, belonging to her, the following
verses, which have never, I believe, before been
published : f —

" Oh Memory, torture me no more,

The present's all o'ercast ;
My hopes of future bliss are o'er,

In mercy veil the past.
Why bring those images to view

I henceforth must resign ?
Ah ! why those happy hours renew,

That never can be mine?
Past pleasure doubles present pain,

To sorrow adds regret,
Regret and hope are both in vain,

I ask but to — forget."

" Now no more, the hours beguiling,
Former favourite haunts I see ;
Now no more my Mary smiling,
Makes ye seem a heaven to me."

• The lady's husband, for some time, took her family name.

•f- These stanzas, I have since found, are not Lord Byron's,
but the production of Lady Tuite, and are contained in a
volume published by her Ladyship in the year 1795. — (Second
edition.)

G 3

86 NOTICES OF THE 1805.

In the following year, 1805, Miss Chaworth was
married to his successful rival, Mr. John Musters ;
and a person who was present when the first intelli-
gence of the event was communicated to him, thus
describes the manner in which he received it. — " I
was present when he first heard of the marriage.
His mother said, ' Byron, I have some news for you.'

— ' Well, what is it ? ' — ' Take out your handker-
chief first, for you will want it.' — ' Nonsense ! ' —
' Take out your handkerchief, I say.' He did so,
to humour her. ' Miss Chaworth is married.' An
expression very peculiar, impossible to describe,
passed over his pale face, and he hurried his hand-
kerchief into his pocket, saying, with an affected air
of coldness and nonchalance, ' Is that all ? ' — ' Why,
I expected you would have been plunged in grief! '

— He made no reply, and soon began to talk about
something else."

His pursuits at Harrow continued to be of the
same truant description during the whole of his stay
there ; — " always," as he says himself, " cricketing,
rebelling *, rowing, and in all manner of mischiefs."
The " rebelling," of which he here speaks, (though
it never, I believe, proceeded to any act of violence,)
took place on the retirement of Dr. Drury from his
situation as head master, when three candidates for

* Gibbon, in speaking of public schools, says — " The mimic
scene of a rebellion has displayed, in their true colours, the
ministers and patriots of the rising generation." Such prog-
nostics, however, are not always to be relied on ; — the mild,
peaceful Addison was, when at school, the successful leader of
a barrins-out.

1805.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 87

the vacant chair presented themselves, — Mark
Drury, Evans, and Butler. On the first movement to
which this contest gave rise in the school, young
Wildman was at the head of the party for Mark
Drury, while Byron at first held himself aloof from
any. Anxious, however, to have him as an ally, one
of the Drury faction said to Wildman — " Byron, I
know, will not join, because he doesn't choose to
act second to any one, but, by giving up the leader-
ship to him, you may at once secure him." This
Wildman accordingly did, and Byron took the com-
mand of the party.

The violence with which he opposed the election
of Dr. Butler on this occasion (chiefly from the
warm affection which he had felt towards the last
master) continued to embitter his relations with
that gentleman during the remainder of his stay at
Harrow. Unhappily their opportunities of collision
were the more frequent from Byron's being a resi-
dent in Dr. Butler's house. One day the young
rebel, in a fit of defiance, tore down all the gratings
from the window in the hall ; and when called upon
by his host to say why he had committed this
violence, answered, with stern coolness, " Because
they darkened the hall." On another occasion he
explicitly, and so far manfully, avowed to this gen-
tleman's face the pique he entertained against him.
It has long been customary, at the end of a term, for
the master to invite the upper boys to dine with him ;
and these invitations are generally considered as,
like royal ones, a sort of command. Lord Byron,
however, when asked, sent back a refusal, which

G 4

88 NOTICES OF THE 1805,

rather surprising Dr. Butler, he, on the first oppor-
tunity that occurred, enquired of him, in the presence
of the other boys, his motive for this step : —
" Have you any other engagement ? " — " No, sir."
— " But you must have some reason, Lord Byron."
— " I have.' — " What is it ? "— " Wliy, Dr. Butler,"
replied the young peer, with proud composure, " if
you should happen to come into my neighbourhood
when I was staying at Newstead, I certainly should
not ask you to dine with me, and therefore feel that
I ought not to dine with you." *

The general character which he bore among the
masters at Harrow was that of an idle boy, who
would never learn anything ; and, as far as regarded
his tasks in school, this reputation was, by his own
avowal, not ill-founded. It is impossible, indeed, to
look through the books which he had then in use,
and which are scribbled over with clumsy interlined
translations, without being struck with the narrow
extent of his classical attainments. The most ordi-
nary Greek words have their English signification
scrawled under them, showing too plainly that he
was not sufficiently familiarised with their meaning
to trust himself without this aid. Thus, in his
Xenophon we find vzoi, young — ff-wjwao-iv, bodies —
avBfwTsoii; iok; ayctOoi^, yood men, &c. &c. — and
even in the volumes of Greek plays which he pre-
sented to the library on his departure, we observe,

• This anecdote, which I have given on the testimony of
one of Lord Byron's schoolfellows, Doctor Butler himself
assures me has but very little foundation in fact. — {Second
Edition. )

1805. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 89

among other instances, the common word ^fro-o?
provided with its Enghsh representative in the
margin.

But, notwithstanding his backwardness in the
mere verbal scholarship, on which so large and
precious a portion of life is wasted *, in all that
general and miscellaneous knowledge which is alone
useful in the world, he was making rapid and even
wonderful progress. With a mind too inquisitive
and excursive to be imprisoned within statutable
limits, he flew to subjects that interested his already
manly tastes, Avith a zest which it is in vain to ex-
pect that the mere pedantries of school could in-
spire ; and the irregular, but ardent, snatches of
study which he caught in this way, gave to a mind
like his an impulse forwards, which left more disci-
plined and plodding competitors far behind. The
list, indeed, which he has left on record of the
works, in all departments of literature, which he
thus hastily and greedily devoured before he was
fifteen years of age, is such as almost to startle
belief, — comprising, as it does, a range and variety

• ♦' It is deplorable to consider the loss which children make
of their time at most schools, employing, or rather casting
away, six or seven years in the learning of words only, and that
very imperfectly." — Cowley, Essays,

" Would not a Chinese, who took notice of our way of
breeding, be apt to imagine that all our young gentlemen were
designed to be teachers and professors of the dead languages of
foreign countries, and not to be men of business in their
own ? " — Locke on Education.

90 NOTICES OF THE 1805.

of Study, which might make much older " helluones
hbrorum " hide their heads.

Not to argue, however, from the powers and
movements of a mind like Byron's, which might
well be allowed to take a privileged direction of its
own, there is little doubt, that to any youth of
talent and ambition, the plan of instruction pursued
in the great schools and universities of England,
wholly inadequate as it is to the intellectual wants
of the age *, presents an alternative of evils not a
little embarrassing. Difficult, nay, utterly impossi-
ble, as he will find it, to combine a competent acqui-
sition of useful knowledge with that round of anti-
quated studies which a pursuit of scholastic honours
requires-! he must either, by devoting the whole of
his attention and ambition to the latter object,
remain ignorant on most of those subjects upon which
mind grapples with mind in life, or by adopting, as
Lord Byron and other distinguished persons have
done, the contrary system, consent to pass for a dunce
or idler in the schools, in order to afford himself even
a chance of attaining eminence in the world.

From the memorandums scribbled by the young
poet in his school-books, we might almost fancy that,
even at so early an age, he had a sort of vague pre-
sentiment that everything relating to him would one
day be an object of curiosity and interest. The date

* " A finished scholar may emerge from the head of West-
minster or Eton in total ignorance of the business and convers-
ation of English gentlemen in the latter end of the eighteenth
ccntuiy." — Gibbon.

1805. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 91

of his entrance at Harrow *, the names of the boys
who were, at that time, monitors, the Hst of his fel-
low pupils under Doctor Drury-f-, — all are noted
down with a fond minuteness, as if to form points of
retrospect in his after-life ; and that he sometimes
referred to them with this feeling will appear from
one touching instance. On the first leaf of his
" Scriptores Graci," we find, in his schoolboy hand,
the following memorial : — " George Gordon Byron,
Wednesday, June 26th, a. d. 1805, 3 quarters of
an hour past 3 o'clock in the afternoon, 3d school,
— Calvert, monitor ; Tom VVildman on my left hand
and Long on my right. Harrow on the Hill." On
the same leaf, written five years after, appears this
comment : —

" Eheu fugaces, Posthume ! Posthume !
Labuntur anni."

" B. January 9th, 1 809. — Of the four persons
whose names are here mentioned, one is dead,
another in a distant climate, all separated, and not
five years have elapsed since they sat together in
school, and none are yet twenty-one years of
age."

• " BjTon, Harrow on the Hill, Middlesex, Alumnus
Scholae Lyonensis primus in anno Domini 1801, Ellison
Duce."

"Monitors, 1801. — Ellison, Royston, Hunxman, Rash-
leigli, Rokeby, Leigh."

t " Drury's Pupils, 1804. — Byron, Drury, Sinclair, Hoare,
Bolder, Annesley, Calvert, Strong, Acland, Gordon, Drum-
moud."

92 NOTICES OF THE 1805.

The vacation of 1804* he passed with his
mother at Southwell, to which place she had
removed from Nottingham, in the summer of this
year, having taken the house on the Green called
Burgage Manor. There is a Southwell play-bill ex-
tant, dated August 8th, 1801, in which the play is
announced as bespoke " by Mrs. and Lord Byron. "
The gentleman, from whom the house where they
resided was rented, possesses a library of some ex-
tent, which the young poet, he says, ransacked with
much eagerness on his first coming to Southwell ;
and one of the books that most particularly engaged
and interested him was, as may be easily believed,
the life of Lord Herbert of Cherbury.

In the month of October, 1805, he was removed
to Trinity College, Cambridge, and his feelings on
the change from his beloved Ida to this new scene
of life are thus described by himself: —

" WTien I first went up to college, it was a new
and a heavy-hearted scene for me : firstly, I so much
disliked leaving Harrow, that though it was time (I
being seventeen), it broke my very rest for the last
quarter with counting the days that remained. I
always hatedYLarrow till the last year and a half, but
then I liked it. Secondly, I wished to go to Oxford,

* During one of the Harrow vacations, he passed some
time in the house of the Abbe de Roufigny, in Took's-court,
for the purpose of studying the French language ; but he was,
according to the Abba's account, very little given to study,
and spent most of his time in boxing, fencing, &c. to the no
small disturbance of the reverend teacher and his establish-
ment.

1805. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 93

and not to Cambridge. Thirdly, I was so completely
alone in this new world, that it half broke my spirits.
My companions were not unsocial, but the contrary
— lively, hospitable, of rank and fortune, and gay
far beyond my gaiety. I mingled with, and dined,
and supped, &c., with them ; but, I know not how,
it was one of the deadliest and heaviest feelings of
my life to feel that I was no longer a boy."

But though, for a time, he may have felt this sort
of estrangement at Cambridge, to remain long with-
out attaching himself was not in his nature ; and the
friendship which he now formed with a youth named
Eddleston, who was two years younger than himself,
even exceeded in warmth and romance all his school-
boy attachments. This boy, whose musical talents
first drew them together, was, at the commencement
of their acquaintance, one of the choir at Cambridge,
though he afterwards, it appears, entered into a mer-
cantile line of life ; and this disparity in their stations
was by no means without its charm for Byron, as
gratifying at once both his pride and good-nature,
and founding the tie between them on the mutually
dependent relations of protection on the one side,
and gratitude and devotion on the other ; — the only
relations *, according to Lord Bacon, in which the
little friendship that still remains in the world is to
be found. It was upon a gift presented to him by
Eddleston, that he wrote those verses entitled " The
Cornelian," which were printed in his first, un-

* Between superior and inferior, " whose fortunes (as he
expresses it) comprehend the one and the other."

94- NOTICES OF THE

1805.'

published volume, and of which the following is a
stanza : —

" Some, who can sneer at friendship's ties,
Have for my weakness oft reproved me ;
Yet still the simple gift I prize.

For I am sure the giver loved me."

Another friendship, of a less unequal kind, which
had been begun at Harrow, and which he continued
to cultivate during his first year at Cambridge, is thus
interestingly dwelt upon in one of his journals : —

" How strange are my thoughts ! — The reading
of the song of Milton, ' Sabrina fair,' has brought
back upon me — I know not how or why — the hap-
piest, perhaps, days of my life (always excepting,
here and there, a Harrow holiday in the two latter
summers of my stay there) when living at Cambridge
with Edward Noel Long, afterwards of the Guards,

— who, after having served honourably in the ex-
pedition to Copenhagen (of which two or three
thousand scoundrels yet survive in plight and pay),
was drowned early in 1809, on his passage to Lisbon
with his regiment in the St. George transport, which
was run foul of in the night by another transport.
We were rival swimmers — fond of ridinfj — readins

— and of conviviality. We had been at Harrow
together ; but — there, at least — his was a less
boisterous spirit than mine. I was always cricket-
ing — rebelling — fighting — rowing (from row, not
^a^rowing, a different practice), and in all manner
of mischiefs; while he was more sedate and po-
lished. At Cambridge — both of Trinity — my
spirit rather softened, or his roughened, for we be-

1805.

LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 95^

came very great friends. The description of Sa^
brina's seat reminds me of our rival feats in diving.
Though Cam's is not a very translucent wave, it was
fourteen feet deep, where we used to dive for, and
pick up — having thrown them in on purpose —
plates, eggs, and even shillings. I remember, in
particular, there was the stump of a tree (at least
ten or twelve feet deep) in the bed of the river,
in a spot where we bathed most commonly, round
which I used to cling, and ' wonder how the devil
I came there.'

" Our evenings we passed in music (he was musi-
cal, and played on more than one instrument, flute
and violoncello), in which I was audience ; and I
think that our chief beverage was soda-water. In
the day we rode, bathed, and lounged, reading oc-
casionally. I remember our buying, with vast ala-
crity, Moore's new quarto (in 1806), and reading it
together in the evenings.

" We only passed the summer together ; — Long

had gone into the Guards during the year I passed

in Notts, away from college. His friendship, and a

violent, Xhowgh pure, love and passion — which held

me at the same period — were the then romance of

tiie most romantic period of my life.

« » * * *

" I remember that, in the spring of 1809, H * *

laughed at my being distressed at Long's death, and

amused himself with making epigrams upon his name,

which was susceptible of a pun — Long, short. Sec.

But three years after, he had ample leisure to repent

it, when our mutual friend and his, H * *'s, parti-

96 NOTICES OF THE 1805.

cular friend, Charles Matthews, was drowned also,
and he himself was as much affected by a similar
calamity. But / did not pay him back in puns
and epigrams, for I valued Matthews too much my-
self to do so ; and, even if I had not, I should have
respected his griefs.

" Long's father wrote to me to write his son's epi-
taph. I promised — but I had not the heart to com-
plete it. He was such a good amiable being as
rarely remains long in this world ; with talent and
accomplishments, too, to make him the more re-
gretted. Yet, although a cheerful companion, he
had strange melancholy thoughts sometimes. I re-
member once that wo were going to his uncle's, I
think — I went to accompany him to the door merely,
in some Upper or Lower Grosvenor or Brook Street,
I forget which, but it was in a street leading out of
some square, — he told me that, the night before, he
'had taken up a pistol — not knowing or examining
whether it was loaded or no — and had snapped it
at his head, leaving it to chance whether it might or
might not be charged.' The letter, too, which he
wrote me, on leaving college to join the Guards,
was as melancholy in its tenour as it could well be
on such an occasion. But he showed nothmg of
this in his deportment, being mild and gentle ; — and
yet with much turn for the ludicrous in his disposi-
tion. We were both much attached to Harrow, and
sometimes made excursions there together from
London to revive our schoolboy recollections."

These affecting remembrances are contained in a
Journal which he kept during his residence at Ra-

1806. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 97

venna, in 1821, and they are rendered still more
touching and remarkable by the circumstances under
which they were noted down. Domesticated in a
foreign land, and even connected with foreign con-
spirators, whose arms, at the moment he was writing,
were in his house, he could yet thus wholly disengage
himself from the scene around him, and, borne away
by the current of memory into other times, live over
the lost friendships of his boyhood again. An Eng-
lish gentleman (Mr. Wathen) who called upon him,
at one of his residences in Italy, having happened to
mention in conversation that he had been acquainted
with Long, from that moment Lord Byron treated
him with the most marked kindness, and talked with
him of Long, and of his amiable qualities, till (as this
gentleman says) the tears could not be concealed in
his eyes.

Li the summer of this year (1806) he, as usual,
joined his mother at Southwell, — among the small,
but select, society of which place he had, during his
visits, formed some intimacies and friendships, the
memory of which is still cherished there fondly and
proudly. With the exception, indeed, of the brief
and bewildering interval which he passed, as we
have seen, in the company of Miss Chaworth, it was
at Southwell alone that an opportunity was ever af-
forded hmi of profiting by the bland influence of
female society, or of seeing what woman is in the
true sphere of her virtues, home. The amiable and
intelligent family of the Pigots received him within
their circle as one of themselves : and in the Rev.

VOL. I. H

98 NOTICES OF THE 1806.

John Becher * the youthful poet found not only an
acute and judicious critic, but a sincere friend.
There were also one or two other families — as the
Leacrofts, the Housons — among whom his talents
and vivacity made him always welcome ; and the
proud shyness with which, through the whole of his
minority, he kept aloof from all intercourse with the
neighbouring gentlemen seems to have been entirely
familiarised away by the small, cheerful society of
Southwell. One of the most intimate and valued
of his friends, at this period, has given me the follow-
ing account of her first acquaintance with him : —
" The first time I was introduced to him was at a
party at his mother's, when he was so shy that she
was forced to send for him three times before she
could persuade him to come into the drawing-room,
to play with the young people at a round game. He
was then a fat bashful boy, with his hair combed
straight over his forehead, and extremely like a mi-
niature picture that his mother had painted by M.
de Chambruland. The next morning Mrs. Byron
brought him to call at our house, when he still con-
tinued shy and formal in his manner. The convers-
ation turned upon Cheltenham, where we had been
staying, the amusements there, the plays, &e.; and
I mentioned that I had seen the character of Ga-
briel Lackbrain very well performed. His mother
getting up to go, he accompanied her, making a for-

* A gentleman who has since honourably distinguished
himself by his philanthropic plans and suggestions for that
most important object, tlie amelioration of the condition of
tue poor.

1806. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. S)9

mal bow, and I, in allusion to the play, said, " Good
by, Gaby." His countenance lighted up, his hand-
some mouth displayed a broad grin, all his shyness
vanished, never to return, and, upon his mother's
saying ' Come, Byron, are you ready ?' — no, she
might go by herself, he would stay and talk a little
longer ; and from that moment he used to come in
and go out at all hours, as it pleased him, and in our
house considered himself perfectly at home."

To this lady was addressed the earliest letter from
his pen that has fallen into my hands. He corre-
sponded with many of his Harrow friends, — with
Lord Clare, Lord Powerscourt, Mr. William Peel,
Mr. William Bankes, and others. But it was then
little foreseen what general interest would one day
attach to these school-boy letters; and accordingly, as
I have already had occasion to lament, there are but
few of them now in existence. The letter, of which
I have spoken, to his Southwell friend, though con-
taining nothing remarkable, is perhaps for that very
reason worth insertion, as serving to show, on com-
paring it with most of its successors, how rapidly his
mind acquired confidence in its powers. There is,
indeed, one charm for the eye of curiosity in hi&
juvenile manuscripts, which they necessarily want in
their printed form ; and that is the strong evidence
of an irregular education which they exhibit, — the
unformed and childish handwriting, and, now and
then, even defective spelling of him who, in a very
few years after, was to start up one of the giants
of English literature.

H 2

100 NOTICES OF THE 180fi.

Letter 1. TO MISS

Burgage Manor, August 29. 1804.

" I received the arms, my clear Miss ,

and am very much obliged to you for the trouble
you have taken. It is impossible I should have any
fault to find with them. The sight of the drawings
p-ives me creat iileasure for a double reason, — in the
first place, they will ornament my books, m the next,
they convince me that you have not entirely forgot
me. I am, however, sorry you do not return sooner
— you have already been gone an age. I perhaps
may have taken my departure for London before you
come back ; but, however, I will hope not. Do not
overlook my watch-riband and purse, as I wish to
carry them with me. Your note was given me by

Harry, at the play, whither I attended INIiss L

and Dr. S. ; and now I have set down to an-
swer it before I go to bed. If I am at Southwell
when you return, — and I sincerely hope you w^U
soon, for I very much regret your absence, — I shall
be happy to hear you sing my favourite, ' The Maid
of Lodi.' My mother, together with myself, desires
to be affectionately remembered to Mrs. Pigot, and,

believe me, my dear Miss , I remain your

affectionate friend,

" BVRON."

« P.S. If you think proper to send me any answer
to this, I shall be extremely happy to receive it.
Adieu.

« P. S. 2d. As you say you are a novice in the art
of knitting, I hope it don't give you too much trou-
ble. Go on slowly, but surely. Once more, adieu."

1806 LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 101

We shall often have occasion to remark the fidelity
to early habits and tastes by which Lord Byron,
though in other respects so versatile, was distin-
guished. In the juvenile letter, just cited, there are
two characteristics of this kind which he preserved
unaltered during the remainder of his life ; — namely,
his punctuality in immediately answering letters, and
his love of the simplest ballad music. Among the
chief favourites to which this latter taste led him at
this time were the songs of the Duenna, which he
had the good taste to delight in ; and some of his
Harrow contemporaries still remember the joyous-
ness with which, when dining with his friends at the
memorable mother Barnard's, he used to roar out,
" This bottle's the sun of our table."

His visit to Southwell this summer was inter-
rupted, about the beginning of August, by one of
those explosions of temper on the part of Mrs. Byron,
to which, from his earliest childhood, he had been
but too well accustomed, and in producing which his
own rebel spirit was not always, it may be supposed,
entirely blameless. In all his portraits of himself,
so dark is the pencil Avhich he employs, that the
following account of his own temper, from one of his
journals, must be taken with a due portion of that
allowance for exaggeration, which his style of self-
portraiture, " overshadowing even the shade," re-
quires.

'< In all other respects," (he says, after mentioning
his infant passion for Mary Duft',) " I differed not at
all from other children, being neither tall nor short,
dull nor witty, of my age, but rather lively — except

II 3

102 NOTICES OF THE 1806.

in my sullen moods, and then I was always a Devil.
They once (in one of my silent rages) wrenched a
knife from me, which I had snatched from table at
Mrs. B.'s dinner (I always dined earlier), and applied
to my breast; — but this was three or four years
after, just before the late Lord B.'s decease.

" My ostensible temper has certainly improved in
later years ; but I shudder, and must, to my latest
hour, regret the consequence of it and my passions
combined. One event — but no matter — there are
others not much better to think of also — and to
them 1 give the preference

" But I hate dwelling upon incidents. My temper
is now under management — rarely loud, and when
loud, never deadly. It is when silent, and I feel my
forehead and my cheek paling, that I cannot con-
trol it ; and then but unless there is a woman

(and not any or every woman) in the way, I have
sunk into tolerable apathy."

Between a temper at all resembling this, and the
loud hurricane bursts of Mrs. Byron, the collision, it
may be supposed, was not a little formidable ; and
the age at which the young poet was now arrived,
when — as most parents feel — the impatience of
youth begins to champ the bit, would but render the
occasions for such shocks more frequent. It is told,
as a curious proof of their opinion of each other's
violence, that, after parting one evening in a tempest
of this kind, they were known each to go privately
that night to the apothecary's, enquiring anxiously
V hether the other had been to purchase poison, and

i8oe.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 103

cautioning the vender of drugs not to attend to such
an application, if made.

It was but rarely, however, that the young lord
allowed himself to be provoked into more than a
passive share in these scenes. To the boisterousness
of his mother he would oppose a civil and, no doubt,
provoking silence, — bowing to her but the more
profoundly the higher her voice rose in the scale.
In general, however, when he perceived that a storm
was at hand, in flight lay his only safe resource. To
this summary expedient he was driven at the period
of which we are speaking ; but not till after a scene
had taken place between him and Mrs. Byron, in
which the violence of her temper had proceeded to
lengths, that, however outrageous they may be
deemed, were not, it appears, unusual with her.
The poet, Young, in describing a temper of this sort,
says —

" The cups and saucers, in a whirlwind sent,
Just intimate tlie lady's discontent."

But poker and tongs were, it seems, the missiles
which Mrs. Byron preferred, and which she, more
than once, sent resounding after her fugitive son.
In the present instance, he was but just in time to
avoid a blow aimed at him with the former of these
weapons, and to make a hasty escape to the house
of a friend in the neighbourhood ; where, concerting
the best means of baffling pursuit, he decided upon
an instant flight to London. The letters, which I
am about to give, were written, immediately on his
arrival in town, to some friends at Southwell, from
>vhose kind interference in his behalf, it may fairly

H 4

lot NOTICES OF THE 180G.

be concluded that the blame of the quarrel, whatever
it may have been, did not rest with him. The first
is to Mr. Pigot, a young gentleman about the same
age as himself, who had just returned, for the vaca-
tion, from Edinburgh, where he was, at that time,
pursuing his medical studies.

Letter 2. TO MR. PIGOT.

" 16. Piccadilly, August 9. 180G.
" My dear Pigot,

" Many thanks for your amusing narrative of the
last proceedings of * *, who now begins to feel the
effects of her folly. I have just received a peni-
tential epistle, to which, apprehensive of pursuit, I
have despatched a moderate answer, with a kind of
promise to return in a fortnight; — this, however
{enfre nous), I never mean to fulfil. Seriously, your
mother has laid me under great obligations, and you,
with the rest of your family, merit my warmest
thanks for your kind connivance at my escape.

" How did S. B. receive the intelligence ? How
many ptins did he utter on so facetious an event ?
In your next inform me on this point, and what
excuse you made to A. You are probably, by this
time, tired of deciphering this hieroglyphical letter ;
— like Tony Lumpkin, you will pronounce mine to

be a d d up and down hand. All Southwell,

without doubt, is involved in amazement. Apropos,
liow does my blue-eyed nun, the fair * * ? is she
' robed in sable garb of ivoe ? '

" Here I remain at least a week or ten days ; pre-
vious to my departure you shall receive my address,

IJJOG. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 105

but what It will be I have not determined. My
lodgings must be kept secret from Mrs. B. You
may present my compliments to her, and say any
attempt to pursue me will fail, as I have taken mea-
sures to retreat immediately to Portsmouth, on the
first intimation of her removal from Southwell.
You may add, I have now proceeded to a friend's
house in the country, there to remain a fortnight.

" I have now blotted (I must not say written) a
complete double letter, and in return shall expect
a monstrous budget. Without doubt, the dames of
Southwell reprobate the pernicious example I have
shown, and tremble lest their babes should disobey
their mandates, and quit, in dudgeon, their mammas
on any grievance. Adieu. When you begin your
next, drop the ' lordship,' and put ' Byron' in its
place. Believe me yours, &c.

" Byron."

From the succeeding letters, it will be seen that
Mrs. Byron was not behind hand, in energy and de-
cision, with his young Lordship, but immediately on
discovering his flight, set off after him.

Letters. TO MISS .

" London, August 10. 1806.

" My dear Bridget,

" As I have already troubled your brother with
more than he will find pleasure in deciphering, you
are the next to whom I shall assign the employment
of perusing this second ejiistle. You will perceive
from my first, that no idea of Mrs. B.'s arrival had

106 NOTICES OF THE 1806.

disturbed me at the time it was written ; not so the
present, since the appearance of a note from the
illustrious cause of my sudden decampment has driven
the ' natural ruby from my cheeks,' and completely
blanched my woe-begone countenance. This gun-
powder intimation of her arrival breathes less of
terror and dismay than you will probably imagine,
and concludes with the comfortable assurance of all
present motion being prevented by the fatigue of her
journey, for which my blessings are due to the rough
roads and restive quadrupeds of his Majesty's high-
ways. As I have not the smallest inclination to be
chased round the country, I shall e'en make a merit
of necessity ; and since, like Macbeth, ' they've
tied me to the stake, I cannot fly,' I shall imitate
that valorous tyrant, and ' bear-like fight the
course,' all escape being precluded. I can now
engage with less disadvantage, having drawn the
enemy from her intrenchments, though, like the
prototype to whom I have compared myself, with an
excellent chance of being knocked on the head.

However, ' lay on, Macduff, and d d be he who

first cries, Hold, enough.'

" I shall remain in town for, at least, a week, and
expect to hear from you before its expiration. I
presume the printer has brought you the offspring
of my poetic mania. Remember in the first line
to ' loud the winds whistle,' instead of ' round,'
which that blockhead Ridge has inserted by mistake,
and makes nonsense of the whole stanza. Addio I —
Now to encounter my Hydra. Yours ever."

1806.

LIFE OF LOUD BYUON. 107

Letter 4. TO MR. PIGOT.

" London, Sunday, midnight, August 10. 1806.

" Dear PIgot,

" This astonishing packet will, doubtless, amaze
you ; but having an idle hour this evening, I wrote
the enclosed stanzas, which I request you will de-
liver to Ridge, to be printed separate from my other
compositions, as you will perceive them to be im-
proper for the perusal of ladies ; of course, none of
the females of your family must see them. I offer
1000 apologies for the trouble I have given you in
this and other instances. Yours truly."

Letter 5. TO MR. PIGOT,

« Piccadilly, August 16. 1806.
" I cannot exactly say with Caesar, ' Veni, vidi,
vici : ' however, the most important part of his
laconic account of success applies to my present
situation ; for, though Mrs. Byron took the trovble
of* coming^ and ' seeing^ yet your humble servant
proved the victor. After an obstinate engagement
of some hours, in which we suffered considerable
damage, from the quickness of the enemy's fire, they
at length retired in confusion, leaving behind the
artillery, field equipage, and some prisoners : their
defeat is decisive for the present campaign. To
speak more intelligibly, Mrs.B. returns immedialcly,
but I proceed, with all my laurels, to Worthing, on
the Sussex coast ; to which place you will address
(to be left at the post office) your next epistle. By
the enclosure of a second gingle of rinpne, you will
probably conceive my muse to be vastly prolific ; her

I OS NOTICES OF THE 1806.

inserted production was brought forth a few years
ago, and found by accident on Thursday among
some old papers. I have recopied it, and, adding the
proper date, request it may be printed with the rest
of the family. I thought your sentiments on the
last bantling would coincide with mine, but it was
impossible to give it any other garb, being founded
on facts. My stay at Worthing will not exceed
three weeks, and you may possibly behold me again

at Southwell the middle of September.

* * * *

" Will you desire Ridge to suspend the printing
of my poems till he hears further from me, as I have
determined to give them a new form entirely. This
prohibition does not extend to the two last pieces I
have sent with my letters to you. You will excuse
the dull vanity of this epistle, as my brain is a chaos
of absurd images, and full of business, preparations,
and projects.

" I shall expect an answer with impatience ; — be-
lieve me, there is nothing at this moment could give
me greater delight than your letter."

LKiTEaS. TO MR. PIGOT.

" London, August 18. 1806.

" I am just on the point of setting off for Wor-
thing, and write merely to request you will send
that idle scoundrel Charles with my horses imme-
diately ; tell him I am excessively provoked he has
not made his appearance before, or written to inform
me of the cause of his delay, particularly^ as I sup-
plied him with money for his journej^ On no

1806. LIFE OF LORD EYROX. JOS

pretext is he to postpone his march one day longer;
and if, in obedience to Mrs. B., he thinks proper to
disregard my positive orders, I shall not, in future,
consider him as my servant. He must bring the
surgeon's bill with him, which I will discharge im-
mediately on receiving it. Nor can I conceive the
reason of his not acquainting Frank with the state of
my unfortunate quadrupeds. Dear Pigot, forgive
this -petulant effusion, and attribute it to the idle
conduct of that precious rascal, who, instead of
obeying my injunctions, is sauntering through the
streets of that political Pandemonium, Nottingham.
Present my remembrances to your family and the
Leacrofts, and believe me, <S:c.

" P. S. I delegate to you the unpleasant task of
despatching him on his journey — Mrs. B.'s orders to
the contrary are not to be attended to : he is to pro-
ceed first to London, and then to Worthing, without
delay. Every thing I have left must be sent to
London. My Poetics you will pack up for the same
place, and not even reserve a copy for yourself and
sister, as I am about to give them an entire neiii
form : when they are complete, you shall have the
first fruits. Mrs. B. on no account is to see or touch
them. Adieu."

Letter 7. TO MR. PIGOT.

" Little Hampton, August 26. 1806.

•■' I this morning received your epistle, which I
tvas obliged to send for to Worthing, whence I have
removed to this place, on the same coast, about eight
miles distant from the former. You will probablj'

110 NOTICES OF THE 180S.

not be displeased with this letter, when it informs
you that I am 30,000/. richer than I was at our
j)arting, having just received intelligence from my
lawyer that a cause has been gained at Lancaster
assizes *, which will be worth that sum ■by the time
I come of age. Mrs. B. is, doubtless, acquainted of
this acquisition, though not apprised of its exact
value, of which she had better be ignorant. You
may give my compliments to her, and say that her
detaining my servant's things shall only lengthen
my absence ; for unless they are immediately de-
spatched to 16. Piccadilly, together with those which
have been so long delayed, belonging to myself, she
shall never again behold my radiant countenance
illuminating her gloomy mansion. If they are sent,
I may probably apjjear in less than two years from
the date of my present epistle.

" Metrical compliment is an ample reward for my
strains ; you are one of the few votaries of Apollo
who unite the sciences over which that deity pre-
sides. I wish you to send my poems to my lodgings
in London immediately, as I have several alterations
and some additions to make ; every copy must be
sent, as I am about to amend them, and you shall
soon behold them in all their glory. Entre nous, —
you may expect to see me soon. Adieu. Yours
ever."

From these letters it will be perceived that Lord
Byron was already engaged in preparing a collection

* In a suit undertaken for the recovery of the Rochdale
property.

1 80 J.

LIFE OF LORD BYROX. Ill

of his poems for the press. The idea of printing
them first occurred to him in the parlour of that cot-
tage which, during his visits to Southwell, had be-
come his adopted home. Miss Pigot, who was not
before aware of his turn for versifying, had been
reading aloud the poems of Burns, when young
Byron said that " he, too, was a poet sometimes, and
would write down for her some verses of his own
which he remembered." He then, with a pencil,
wrote those lines, beginning " In thee I fondly hoped
to clasp *," which were printed in his first unpublish-
ed volume, but are not contained in the editions that
followed. He also repeated to her the verses I have
already referred to, " When in the hall my father's
voice," so remarkable for the anticipations of his
future fame that glimmer through them.

From this moment the desire of appearing in print
took entire possession of him ; — tliough, for the pre-
sent, his ambition did not extend its views beyond a
small volume for private circulation. The person to
whom fell the honour of receiving his first manu-
scripts was Ridge, the bookseller, at Newark ; and
while the work was printing, the young author con-
tinued to pour fresh materials into his hands, with
the same eagerness and rapidity that marked the
progress of all his maturer works.

His return to Southwell, which he announced in
the last letter we have given was but for a very short
time. In a week or two after he again left that place,

* This precious pencilling is still, of course, jireserved.

112 NOTICES OF THE imO.

and, accompanied by his young friend Mr. Pigot, set
out for Harrowgate. The following extracts are from
a letter written by the latter gentleman, at the time
to his sister.

" Harrowgate is still extremely full ; Wednesday
(to-day) is our ball-night, and I meditate going into
the room for an hour, although I am by no means
fond of strange faces. Lord B., you know, is even
more shy than myself; but for an hour this evening
I will shake it off. * * * How do our theatricals
proceed ? Lord Byron can say all his part, and I
7nostot'm'me. He certainly acts it inimitably. Lord
B. is now poetising, and, since he has been here, has
written some very pretty verses.* He is very good
in trying to amuse me as much as possible, but it is
not in my nature to be happy without either female
society or study. * * * There are many plea-
sant rides about here, which I have taken in company
with Bo'swain, who, with Brighton f , is universally
admired. You must read this to Mrs. B., as it is
a little Tony Lumpkinish. Lord B. desires some
space left : therefore, with respect to all the come-
dians elect, believe me to be," &c. &c.

To this letter the following note from Lord Byron
was appended : —

* The verses " To a beautiful Quaker," in his first volume,
were written at Harrowgate.

f A horse of Lord Byron's : — the other horse that he had
with him at this time was called Sultan.

1806. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 113

" My dear Bridget,

" I have only just dismounted from my Pegasus,
which has prevented me from descending to plain
prose in an epistle of greater length to your fair
self. You regretted, in a former letter, that my
poems were not more extensive ; I now for your
satisfaction announce that I have nearly doubled
them, partly by the discovery of some I conceived
to be lost, and partly by some new productions. We
shall meet on Wednesday next ; till then believe me
yours affectionately,

" Byron."

" P. S. — Your brother John is seized with a
poetic mania, and is now rhyming away at the rate
of three lines /(er //o?<r — so much for inspiration!
Adieu! ••

By the gentleman, who was thus early the com-
panion and intimate of Lord Byron, and who is now
pursuing his profession with the success which his
eminent talents deserve, I have been favoured with
some further recollections of their visit together to
Harrowgate, which I shall take the liberty of giving
in his own words : —

" You ask me to recall some anecdotes of the time
we spent together at Harrowgate in the summer
of 1806, on our return from college, he from
Cambridge, and I from Edinburgh ; but so many
years have elapsed since then, that I really feel my-
self as if recalling a distant dream. We, I remember,
went in Lord Byron's own carriage, with post-
horses ; and he sent his groom with two saddle*

VOL. I. I

114? NOTICES OF THE 1805'

horses, and a beautifully formed, very ferocious, bull-
mastiff, called Nelson, to meet us there. Boatswain*
went by the side of his valet Frank on the box, with

us.

" The bull-dog, Nelson, always wore a muzzle,
and was occasionally sent for into our private room,
when the muzzle was taken off, much to my annoy-
ance, and he and his master amused themselves with
throwing the room into disorder. There was always
a jealous feud between this Nelson and Boatswain ;
and whenever the latter came into the room while
the former was there, they instantly seized each
other : and then, Byron, myself, Frank, and all the
waiters that could be found, were vigorously engaged
in parting them, — which was in general only ef-
fected by thrusting poker and tongs into the mouths
of each. But, one day, Nelson unfortunately escaped
out of the room without his muzzle, and going into
the stable-yard fastened upon the throat of a horse,
from which he could not be disengaged. The sta-
ble-boys ran in alarm to find Frank, who taking one
of his Lord's Wogdon's pistols, always kept loaned
in his room, shot poor Nelson through the head,
to the great regret of Byron.

" We were at the Crown Inn, at Low Harrowgate.
We always dined in the public room, but retired
very soon after dinner to our private one ; for Byron
was no more a friend to drinking than myself. We
lived retired, and made few acquaintance; for he

* The favourite dog, on which Lord Byron afterwards wrote
the well-known epitaph.

i8oe.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 11.

was naturally shy, very shy, which people who did
not know him mistook for pride. While at Harrow-
gate he accidentally met with Professor Hailstone
from Cambridge, and appeared much delighted to
see him. The professor was at Upper Harrowgate:
we called upon him one evening to take him to the
theatre, I think, — and Lord Byron sent his car-
riage for him, another time, to a ball at the Granb}^
This desire to show attention to one of the professors
of his college is a proof that, though he might
choose to satirise the mode of education in the uni-
versity, and to abuse the antiquated regulations and
restrictions to which under-graduates are subjected,
he had yet a due discrimination in his respect for
the individuals who belonged to it. I have always,
indeed, heard him speak in high terms of praise ot
Hailstone, as well as of his master, Bishop Mansel, of
Trinity College, and of others whose names I have
now forgotten.

" Few people understood Byron; but I know that
he had naturally a kind and feeling heart, and tliat
there was not a single spark of malice in his compo-
sition." *

The private theatricals alluded to in the letters
from Harrowgate were, both in prospect and per-
formance, a source of infinite delight to him, and
took place soon after his return to Southwell.
How anxiously he was expected back by all parties,
may be judged from the following fragment of a

» Lord Byron and Dr. Pigot continued to be correspondents
for some time, but, after their parting this autumn, titcy never
met again.

1 2

116 NOTICES OF THE 180t>.

letter which was received by his companion during
their absence from home : —

" Tell Lord Byron that, if any accident should re-
tard his return, his mother desires he will write to
her, as she shall be miserable if he does not arrive
the day he fixes. Mr. W. B. has written a card to
Mrs. H. to offer for the character of ' Henry Wood-
ville,' — Mr. and Mrs. * * * not approving of their,
son's taking a part in the play : but I believe he will
persist in it. Mr. G. W. says, that sooner than the
party should be disappointed, he will take any part,
— sing — dance — in short, do any thing to oblige.
Till Lord Byron returns, nothing can be done ; and
positively he must not be later than Tuesday or
Wednesday."

We have already seen that, at Harrow, his talent
for declamation was the only one by which Lord
Byron was particularly distinguished; and in one
of his note-books he adverts, with evident satis-
faction, both to his school displays and to the share
which he took in these representations at South-
well : —

'< When I was a youth, I was reckoned a good ac-
tor. Besides Harrow speeches (in which I shone),
I enacted Penruddock in the Wheel of Fortune,
and Tristram Fickle in Allingham's farce of the
Weathercock, for three nights (the duration of our
compact), in some private theatricals at Southwell,
in 1806, with great applause. The occasional pro-
logue for our volunteer play was also of my composi-
tion. The other performers were young ladies and
gentlemen of the neighbourhood, and the wholewcnt

1806. LIFE OF LOUD BYROX. 117

off with great effect upon oui' good-natured au-
dience."

It may, perhaps, not be altogether trifling to ob-
sei've, that, in thus personating with sucli success two
heroes so different, the young poet displayed both
tluit love and power of versatility by which he was
afterwards impelled, on a grander scale, to present
himself under such opposite aspects to the world; —
the gloom of Penruddock, and the whim of Tristram,
being types, as it were, of the two extremes, be
tween which his own character, in after-life, so sin-
gularly vibrated.

These representations, which form a memorable
era at Southwell, took place about the latter end of
September, in the house of Mr. Leacroft, whose
drawing-room was converted into a neat theatre on
the occasion, and w^hose family contributed some of
the fair ornaments of its boards. The prologue
which Lord Byron furnished, and which may be
seen in his "Hours of Idleness," w^as written by him
between stages, on his way from Harrowgate. On
getting into the carriage at Chesterfield, he said to
his companion, "Now, Pigot, I '11 spin a prologue for
our play ; " and before they reached Mansfield, he
had completed his task, — interrupting, only once,
his rhyming reverie, to ask the proper pronunciation
of the French word debut, " and, on being told it,
exclaiming, in the true spirit of Byshe, " Ay, that
will do for rhyme to new. "

The epilogue on the occasion was from the pen
of Mr. Becher ; and for the purpose of affording to
Lord Byron, who was to speak it, an opportunity of

I 3

lis NOTICES OF THE ' 1806.

displaying his powers of mimicry, consisted of good-
liumoured portraits of all the persons concerned in
the representation. Some intimation of this design
having got among the actors, an alarm was felt in-
stantly at the ridicule thus in store for them ; and
to quiet their apprehensions, the author was obliged
to assure them that if, after having heard his epi-
logue at rehearsal, they did not, of themselves, pro-
nounce it harmless, and even request that it should
be preserved, he would most willingly withdraw it.
In the mean time, it was concerted between this gen-
tleman and Lord Byron that the latter should, on
the morning of rehearsal, deliver the verses in a tone
as innocent and as free from all point as possible, —
veservmg his mimicry, in which the whole sting of
the pleasantry lay, for tlie evening of representation.
The desired eifect was produced ; — all the person-
ages of the green-room were satisfied, and even
wondered how a suspicion of waggeiy could have
attached itself to so Avell-bred a production. Their
wonder, however, was of a different nature a night
or two after, when, on hearing the audience con-
vulsed with laughter at this same composition, they
discovered, at last, the trick which the unsuspected
mimic had played on them, and had no other
resource than that of joining in the laugh which his
playful imitation of the whole dramatis jjcrsonae
excited.

The small volume of poems, which he had now
for some time been preparing, was, in the month of
November, ready for delivery to the select few
among whom it was intended to circulate ; and to

1806.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 119

Mr. Becher the first copy of the work was present-
ed.* The influence which this gentleman had, b}'
his love of poetry, his sociability and good sense, ac-
quired at this period over the mind of Lord Byron,
was frequently employed by him in guiding the
taste of his young friend, no less in matters of con-
duct than of literature ; and the ductility with
which this influence was yielded to, in an instance
I shall have to mention, will show how far from
untractable was the natural disposition of Byron,
liad he more frequently been lucky enough to foil
into hands that " knew the stops " of the instru-
ment, and could draw out its sweetness as well as its
strength.

In the wild range which his taste was now allowed
to take through the light and miscellaneous literature
of the da3s it was but natural that he should settle
with most pleasure on those works from which the
feelings of his age and temperam.ent could extract
their most congenial food; and, accordingly, Lord
Strangford's Camoens and Little's Poems are said to
have been, at this period, his favourite study. To
the indulgence of such a taste his reverend friend
very laudably opposed himself, — representing with
truth, (as far, at least, as the latter author is concern-
ed,) how much more worthy models, both in style
and thought, he might find among the established
names of English literature. Listead of wasting his
time on the ephemeral productions of his contempo-

* Of this edition, wliich was in quarto, and consisted but
of a few sheets, there are but two, or, at the utmost, three
copies in existence.

I 4

120 NOTICES OF THE

1806.

raries, he should devote himself, his adviser said, to
tlie pages of Milton and of Shakspeare, and, above
all, seek to elevate his fancy and taste by the con-
templation of the sublimer beauties of the Bible. In
the latter study, this gentleman acknowledges that
his advice had been, to a great extent, anticipated,
and that with the poetical parts of the Scripture he
found Lord Byron deeply conversant : — a circum-
stance which corroborates the account given by his
early master. Dr. Glennie, of his great proficiency
in scrij)tural knowledge while yet but a child under
his care.

To Mr. Becher, as I have said, the first copy of
his little work was presented ; and this gentleman,
in looking over its pages, among many things to com-
mend and admire, as well as some almost too boyish
to criticise, found one poem in which, as it appeared
to him, the imagination of the young bard had in-
dulged itself in a luxuriousness of colouring beyond
what even youth could excuse. Immediately, as the
most gentle mode of conveying his opinion, he sat
down and addressed to Lord Byron some expostula-
tory verses on the subject, to which an answer, also
in verse, was returned by the noble poet as promptly,
with, at the same time, a note in plain prose, to say
tliat he felt fully the justice of his reverend friend's
censure, and that, rather than allow the poem in ques-
tion to be circulated, he would instantly recall all the
copies that had been sent out, and cancel the whole
impression. On the very same evening this prompt
sacrifice was carried into effect ; — Mr. Becher saw
every copy of the edition burned, with the exception

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYUON. 121

of that which he retained in his own possession, ami
another which had been despatched to Edinburgh,
and could not be recalled.

This trait of the young poet speaks sufficiently for
itself; — the sensibility, the temper, the ingenuous
pliableness which it exhibits, show a disposition ca-
pable, by nature, of every thing we most respect and
love.

Of a no less amiable character were the feelings
that, about this time, dictated the following letter ; —
a letter which it is impossible to peruse without ac-
knowledging the noble candour and conscientiousness
of the writer : —

LetteuS. to the earl of CLARE.

" Southwell, Notts, February 6. 1807.

*' INIy dearest Clare,

" Were 1 to make all the apologies necessary to
atone for my late negligence, you would justly say
you had received a petition instead of a letter, as it
would be filled with prayers for forgiveness ; but in-
stead of this, I will acknowledge my sins at once,
and I trust to your friendship and generosity rather
than to my own excuses. Though my health is not
perfectly re-established, I am out of all danger, and
have recovered every thing but my spirits, which are
subject to depression. You will be astonished to
hear I have lately written to Delawarre, for the pur-
pose of explaining (as far as possible without in-
volving some old friends of mine in the business) the
cause of my behaviour to him during my last resi-
dence at Harrow (nearly two years ago), which you

122 NOTICES OF THE ISO".

^vill recollect was rather ' en cavalier^ Since that
period, I have discovered he was treated with in-
justice both by those who misrepresented his con-
duct, and by me in consequence of their suggestions.
[ have therefore made all the reparation in my power,
by apologising for my mistake, though with very
faint hopes of success ; indeed I never expected any
answer, but desired one for form's sake ; that has
iiot yet arrived, and most probably never will.
However, I have eased my own conscience by the
atonement, which is humiliating enough to one of
my disposition ; yet I could not have slept satisfied
with the reflection of having, et'e« unintentioncdhj, in-
jured any individual. I have done all that could be
done to repair the injury, and there the affair must
end. Whether we renew our intimacy or not is of
very trivial consequence.

" My time has lately been much occupied with
very different pursuits. I have been transporting a
servant*, who cheated me, — rather a disagreeable
event ; — performing in private theatricals ; — pub-
lishing a volume of poems (at the request of my
friends, for their perusal); — making love, — and
taking physic. The two last amusements have not
had the best effect in the world ; for my attentions
have been divided amongst so msLnyfair datnsels, and
the drugs I swallow are of such variety in their com-
position, that between Venus and iEsculapius I
am harassed to death. However, I have still leisure
to devote some hours to the recollections of past,

• His valet, Frank.

1S07. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 123

regretted friendships, and in the interval to take the
advantage of the moment, to assure you how much
I am, and ever will be, my dearest Clare,

" Your truly attached and sincere

" Byron."

Considering himself bound to replace the copies
of his work which he had withdrawn, as well as to
rescue the general character of the volume from the
stigma this one offender might bring upon it, he set
instantly about preparing a second edition for the
press, and, during the ensuing six weeks, continued
busily occupied with his task. In the beginning of
January we find him forwarding a copy to his friend,
Dr. Pigot, in Edinburgh : —

Letter 9. TO MR. PIGOT.

" Soutliwell, Jan. 13. ISO".

" I ought to begin with sundry apologies, for my
own negligence, but the variety of my avocations
in prose and verse must plead my excuse. With this
epistle you will receive a volume of all my Juvenilia^
published since your departure : it is of considerably
greater size than the copy in your possession, which
I beg you will destroy, as the present is much more
com2olete. That tuduchy poem to my poor Mary *

• Of this " Mary," who is not to be confounded either witli
the heiress of Annesley, or " Mary" of Aberdeen, all I can
record is, that she was of an humble, if not equivocal, station
in life, — tliat she had long, light golden hair, of which he
used to show a lock, as well as her picture, amotig liis friends ;
and that the verses in his " Hours of Idleness," entitletl
" To Mary, on receiving her Picture," were addressed to iier.

121) NOTICES OF THE 1807.

has been the cause of some animadversion from
ladies in years. I have not printed it in this collec-
tion, in consequence of my being pronounced a most
profligate sinner, in short, a ^ young Moore,' by

•, your * * * friend. I believe, in

general, they have been favourably received, and
surely the age of their author will preclude severe
criticism. The adventures of my life from sixteen to
nineteen, and the dissipation into which I have been
thrown in London, have given a voluptuous tint to
my ideas ; but the occasions which called forth my
muse could hardly admit any other colouring. This
volume is vastly correct and miraculously chaste.
Apropos, talking of love, *******
" If you can find leisure to answer this farrago of
unconnected nonsense, you need not doubt what
gratification will accrue from your reply to yours
ever," &c.

To his young friend, Mr. William Bankes, who
Iiad met casually with a copy of the work, and wrote
him a letter conveying his opinion of it, he returned
the following answer: —

Lettek 10. TO MR. WILLIAM BANKES.

" Southwell, March 6. 1807.
" Dear Bankes,

" Your critique is valuable for many reasons : in

the first place, it is the only one in which flattery

has borne so slight a part ; in the next, I am cloyed

with insipid compliments. I have a better opinion

of your judgment and ability than your feelings.

1807.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 125

Accept my most sincere thanks for your kind deci-
sion, not less welcome, because totally unexpected.
With regard to a more exact estimate, I need not
remind you how few of the best jjoems, in our lan-
guage, will stand the test of minute or verbal cri-
ticism : it can, therefore, hardly be expected the
effusions of a boy (and most of these pieces have
been produced at an early period) can derive much
merit either from the subject or composition. Many
of them were written under great depression of
spirits, and during severe indisposition : — hence the
gloomy turn of the ideas. We coincide in opinion
that the ^poesies irotiques' are the most exception-
able ; they were, however, grateful to the deities, on
whose altars they were offered — more I seek not.

" The portrait of Pomposus was drawn at Harrow,
after a long sittinrj ; this accounts for the resem-
blance, or rather the caricatura. He is your friend,
he never was ?ni?ie — for both our sakes I shall be
silent on this head. The collegiate rhymes are not
personal — one of the notes may appear so, but could
not be omitted. I have little doubt they will be
deservedly abused — a just punishment for my un-
filial treatment of so excellent an Alma Mater. I
sent you no copy, lest we should be placed in the
situation of Gil Bias and the Archbis/iop of Grenada ;
though running some hazard from the experiment, I
wished your verdict to be unbiassed. Had my ' Li-
hellus' been presented previous to your letter, it
would have appeared a species of bribe to purchase
compliment. I feel no hesitation in saying, I was
more anxious to hear your critique, however severe,

123 NOTICES OF THE ■ 1807.

than the praises of the million. On the same day I
was honoured with the encomiums of Mackenzie, tlie
celebrated author of the ' Man of Feehng.' Whe-
ther his approbation or yours elated me most, 1
cannot decide.

" You will receive my Juvenilia., — at least all yet
published. I have a large volume in manuscript,
which may in part appear hereafter ; at present I
have neither time nor inclination to prepare it for
the press. In the spring I shall return to Trinity,
to dismantle my rooms, and bid you a final adieu.
The Cam will not be much increased by my tears
on the occasion. Your further remarks, however
caustic or bitter, to a palate vitiated with the sweets
of adulation, will be of service. Johnson has shown
us that no poetry is perfect ; but to correct mine
would be an Herculean labour. In fact I never
looked beyond the moment of composition, and pub-
lished merely at the request of my friends. Not-
withstanding so much has been said concerning the
' Genus irritabile vatum,' we shall never quarrel
on the subject — poetic fame is by no means the
' acme' of my wishes. Adieu.

" Yours ever,

" Byron."

This letter was followed by another, on the same
subject, to Mr. Bankes, of which, unluckily, only the
annexed fragment remains : —

* # # * # #

" For my own part, I have suffered severely in
the decease of my two greatest friends, the only

1S07. LIFE OF LORD DYRON. 127

beings I ever loved (females excepted) ; I am there-
fore a solitary animal, miserable enough, and so
perfectly a citizen of the world, that whether I pass
my days in Great Britain or Kamschatka, is to me a
matter of perfect indifference. I cannot evince greater
respect for your alteration than by immediately
adopting it — this shall be done in the next edition.
I am sorry your remarks are not more frequent, as I
am certain they would be equally beneficial. Since
my last, I have received two critical opinions from
Edinburgh, both too flattering for me to detail. One
is from Lord Woodhouselee, at the head of the Scotch
literati, and a most voluminous writer (his last work
is a life of Lord Kaimes); the other from Mackenzie,
who sent his decision a second time, more at length.
I am not personally acquainted with either of these
gentlemen, nor ever requested their sentiments on
the subject : their praise is voluntary, and trans-
mitted through the medium of a friend, at whose
house they read the productions.

" Contrary to my former intention, I am now
preparing a volume for the public at large : my
amatory pieces will be exchanged, and others sub-
stituted in their place. The whole will be consider-
ably enlarged, and appear the latter end of May.
This is a hazardous experiment ; but want of better
employment, the encouragement I have met with,
and my own vanity, induce me to stand the test,
though not without sundry palpitations. The book
will circulate fast enough in this country, from mere

curiosity, what I prin "*

*****

*

Ilcrc the impciftct sliect enils.

128 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

The following modest letter accompanied a copy
which he presented to Mr. Falkner, his mother's
landlord : —

Letter]!. TO MR. FALKNER,

" Sir,

" The volume of little pieces which accompanies
this, would have been presented before, had I not
been apprehensive that Miss Falkner's indisposition
might render such trifles unwelcome. There are
some errors of the printer which I have not had
time to correct in the collection : you have it thus,
with ' all its imperfections on its head,' a heavy
weight, when joined with the faults of its author.
Such ' Juvenilia,' as they can claim no great degree
of approbation, I may venture to hope, will also
escape the severity of uncalled for, though perhaps
not undeserved, criticism.

" They were written on many and various occa-
sions, and are now published merely for the perusal
of a friendly circle. Believe me, sir, if they afford
the slightest amusement to yourself and the rest of
my social readers, I shall have gathered all the ba?/s
I ever wish to adorn the head of yours, very truly,

" Byron.

" P. S. — I hope Miss F. is in a state of recovery.''

Notwithstanding this unambitious declaration of
the young author, he had that within which would
not suffer him to rest so easily ; and the fame he had
now reaped within a limited circle made him but
more eager to try his chance on a wider field. The

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 129

hundred copies of which this edition consisted were
hardly out of his hands, when with fresh activity he
went to press again, — and his first pubhshed volume,
" The Hours of Idleness," made its appearance. Some
new pieces which he had written in the interim were
added, and no less than twenty of those contained
in the former volume omitted; — for what reason
does not very clearly appear, as they are, most of
them, equal, if not superior, to those retained.

In one of the pieces, reprinted in the " Hours of
Idleness," there are some alterations and additions,
which, as far as they ma}* be supposed to spring from
the known feelings of the poet respecting birth, are
curious. This poem, which is entitled " Epitaph on a
Friend," appears, from the lines I am about to give,
to have been, in its original state, intended to com-
memorate the death of the same lowly born youth, to
whom some affectionate verses, cited in a preceding
page, were addressed : —

" Thougli low thy lot, since in a cottage born,
No titles did thy humble name adorn ;
To me, far dearer was thy artless love
Than all the joys wealth, fame, and friends could prove. "

But, in the altered form of the epitaph, not only
this passage, but every other containing an allusion
to the low rank of his young companion, is omitted ;
while, in the added parts, the introduction of such
language as

" What, though thy sire lament his failing line,"

seems calculated to give an idea of the youth's
station in life, wholly different from that which the
whole tenour of the original epitaph warrants. The
VOL. I. K

130 NOTICES OF THE

1807.

otlier poem, too, which I have mentioned, addressed
evidently to the same boy, and speaking in similar
terms, of the " lowness"ofhis " lot," is, in the "Hours
of Idleness," altogether omitted. That he grew more
conscious of his high station, as he approached to
manhood, is not improbable ; and this wish to sink
his early friendship with the young cottager may
have been a result of that feeling.

As his visits to Southwell were, after this period,
but few and transient, I shall take the present oppor-
tunity of mentioning such miscellaneous particulars
respecting his habits and mode of life, while there,
as I have been able to collect.

Though so remarkably shy, v/nen he first went to
Southwell, this reserve, as he grew more acquainted
with the young people of the place, wore off; till,
at length, he became a frequenter of their assemblies
and dinner-parties, and even felt mortified if he heard
of a rout to which he was not invited. His horror,
however, at new faces still continued ; and if, while
at Mrs. Pigot's, he saw strangers approaching the
house, he would instantly jump out of the window to
avoid them. This natural shyness concurred with no
small degree of pride to keep him aloof from the
acquaintance of the gentlemen in the neighbour-
hood, whose visits, in more than one instance, he
left unreturned ; — some under the plea that their
ladies had not visited his mother ; others, because
they had neglected to pay him this compliment
sooner. The true reason, however, of the haughty
distance, at which, both now and afterwards, he stood
apart from his more opulent neighbours, is to be

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 131

found in his mortifying consciousness of the inade-
quacy of his own means to his rank, and tlie proud
dread of being made to feel this inferiority by per-
sons to whom, in every other respect, he knew him-
self superior. His friend, Mr. Becher, frequently
expostuh^ted with him on this unsociableness ; and
to his remonstrances, on one occasion. Lord Byron
returned a poetical answer, so remarkably prefigur-
ing the splendid burst, with which his own volcanic
genius opened upon the world, that as the volume
containing the verses is in very few hands, I cannot
resist the temptation of giving a few extracts here: —

" Dear Becher, you tell me to mix with mankind, —
I cannot deny sucli a precept is wise ;
But retirement accords with the tone of my mind,
And I will not descend to a world I despise.

" Did tlie Senate or Camp my exertions require,

Ambition might prompt me at once to go forth ;
And, when infancy's years of probation expire,
Perchance, I may strive to distinguish my birth.

" Tliejire, in the cavern of JElna concealed.
Still mantles unseen, in its secret recess ; —
At length, in a volume terrific revealed,

j\'b torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.

" Oh thus, the desire in my bosom for fame

Bids me live but to hope for Fosterilfs praise ;
Could I soar, with the Fhcenix, on pinions of flame,
With him I ivovld icish to expire in the blaze.

" For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death,

What censure, what danger, what woe would I brave?
Their lives did not end when they yielded their breath, —
Their glory illumines the gloom of the grave! "

K 2

132 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

In his hours of rising and retiring to rest he was,
like his mother, ahvays very late ; and this habit he
never altered during the remainder of" his life. The
night, too, was at this period, as it continued after-
wards, his favourite time for composition ; and his
first visit in the morning was generally paid to the
fair friend who acted as his amanuensis, and to
whom he then gave whatever new products of his
brain the preceding night might have inspired. His
next visit was usually to his friend Mr. Becher's, and
from thence to one or two other houses on the
Green, after which the rest of the day was devoted
to his favourite exercises. The evenings he usually
passed with the same family, among whom he began
his morning, either in conversation, or in hearing
Miss Pigot play upon the piano-forte, and singing
over with her a certain set of songs which he ad-
mired*,— among which the " Maid of Lodi," (with
the words, " My heart with love is beating,") and
" When Time who steals our years away," were,
it seems, his particular favourites. He appears, in-
deed, to have, even thus early, shown a decided
taste for that sort of regular routine of life, — bring-
ing round the same occupations at the stated
periods, — which formed so much tlie system of

* Tliough always fond of music, he had very little skill in
the performance of it. " It is very odd," he said, one day, to
this lady, — " 1 sing much better to your playing than to any
one else's." — " That is," she answered, " because I play to
your singing." — In wliich few words, by the way, the whole
secret of a skilful accomioanier lies.

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 133

his existence during the greater part of his resi-
dence abroad.

Those exercises, to which he fleAV for distraction
in less happy days, formed his enjoyment now; and
between swimming, sparring, firing at a mark, and
riding*, the greater part of his time was passed. In
the Last of these accomplishments he was by no
means very expert. As an instance of his little
knowledge of horses, it is told, that, seeing a pair
one day pass his window, he exclaimed, " What
beautiful horses ! I should like to buy them. " —
"Why, they are your own, my Lord," said his ser-
vant. Those who knew him, indeed, at that period,
were rather surprised, in after-life, to hear so much
of his riding; — and the truth is, I am inclined
to think, that he was at no time a very adroit horse-
man.

In swimming and diving we have already seen, by
■ his own accounts, he excelled ; and a lady in South-
well, among other precious relics of him, possesses a
thimble which he borrowed of her one morning,
when on his way to bathe in the Greet, and which,
as was testified by her brother, who accompanied
him, he brought up three times successively from
the bottom of the river. His practice of firing at a
mark was the occasion, once, of some alarm to a

* Cricketing, too, was one of his most favourite sports ; and
it was wonderful, considering his lameness, with what speed

he could run. " Lord Byron (says Miss , in a letter,

to her brother, from Southwell) is just gone past the window
with his bat on his shoulder to cricket, which he is as fond of
as ever."

K 3

]34 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

very beautiful young person, Miss H., — one of that
numerous list of fair ones by whom his imagination
was dazzled while at Southwell. A poem relating
to this occurrence, which may be found in his un-
published volume, is thus introduced: — "As the
author was discharging his pistols in a garden, two
ladies, passing near the spot, were alarmed by the
sound of a bullet hissing near them, to one of whom
the following stanzas were addressed the next morn-
ing."

Such a passion, indeed, had he for arms of every
description, that there generally lay a small sword
by the side of his bed, with which he used to amuse
himself, as he lay awake in the morning, by thrust-
ing it through his bed-hangings. The person who
purchased this bed at the sale of Mrs. Byron's fur-
niture, on her removal to Newstead, gave out — with
the view of attaching a stronger interest to the holes
in the curtains — that they were pierced by the same
sword with which the old lord had killed Mr. Cha-
worth, and which his descendant always kept as a
memorial by his bedside. Such is the ready process
by which fiction is often engrafted upon fact; —
the sword in question being a most innocent and
bloodless weapon, which Lord Byron, during his
visits at Southwell, used to borrow of one of his
neighbours.

His fondness for dogs — another fancy which ac-
companied him through life — may be judged from
the anecdotes already given, in the account of his
expedition to Ilarrowgate. Of his favourite dog
Boatswain, whom he has immortalised in verse, and

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 135

by whose side it was once his solemn purpose to be
buried, some traits are told, indicative, not only of
intelligence, but of a generosity of spirit, which might
well win for him the affections of such a master
as Byron. One of these I shall endeavour to relate
as nearly as possible as it was told to me. Mrs.
Byron had a fox-terrier, called Gilpin, with whom
her son's dog. Boatswain, was perpetually at war*,
taking every opportunity of attacking and worrying
him so violently, that it was very much apprehended
he would kill the animal. INIrs. Byron therefore
sent off her terrier to a tenant at Newstead; and on
the departure of Lord Byron for Cambridge, his
" friend " Boatswain, with two other dogs, was in-
trusted to the care of a servant till his return. One
morning the servant was much alarmed by the dis-
appearance of Boatswain, and throughout the whole
of the day he could hear no tidings of him. At last,
towards evening, the stray dog arrived, accompanied
by Gilpin, whom he led immediately to the kitchen
fire, licking him and lavishing upon him every possi-
ble demonstration of joy. The fact was, he had
been all the way to Newstead to fetch him ; and
having now established his former foe under the
roof once more, agreed so perfectly well with him
ever after, that he even protected him against the

* In one of Miss 's letters, the following notice of

these canine feuds occurs : — " Boatswain has had another
battle with Tippoo at the House of Correction, and came off
conqueror. Lord B. brought Bo'sen to our window this
morning, when Gilpin, wlio is almost always here, got into an
amazing fury with him."

K 4

136 NOTICES OF THE 1807,

insults of other dogs (a task which the quarrelsome-
ness of the little terrier rendered no sinecure), and,
if he but heard Gilpin's voice in distress, would fly
instantly to his rescue.

In addition to the natural tendency to superstition,
which is usually found connected with the poetical
temperament, Lord Byron had also tlie example and
influence of his mother, acting upon him from in-
fancy, to give his mind this tinge. Her implicit be-
lief in the wonders of second sight, and the strange
tales she told of this mysterious faculty, used
to astonish not a little her sober English friends ;
and it will be seen, that, at so late a period as the
death of his friend Shelley, the idea of fetches
and forewarnings impressed upon him by his mother
had not wholly lost possession of the poet's mind.
As an instance of a more playful sort of superstition
I may be allowed to mention a slight circumstance
told me of him by one of his Southwell friends.
This lady had a large agate bead with a wire
through it, which had been taken out of a barrow,
and lay always in her work-box. Lord Byron asking
one day what it was, she told him that it had been
given her as an amulet, and the charm was, that as
long as she had this bead in her possession, she should
never be in love. " Then give it to me," he cried,
eagerly, "for that's just the thing I want." The
voung lady refused ; — but it was not long before
the bead disappeared. She taxed him with the
theft, and he owned it; but said, she never should
see her amulet again.

Of his charity and kind-heartedness he left behind

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 137

him at Southwell — as, indeed, at every place,
throughout life, where he resided any time — the
most cordial recollections. " He never," says a
person, who knew him intimately at this period,
" met with objects of distress without affording them
succour." Among many little traits of this nature,
which his friends delight to tell, I select the follow-
ing, — less as a proof of his generosity, than from
the interest which the simple incident itself, as con-
nected with the name of Byron, presents. While
yet a school-boy, he happened to be in a bookseller's
shop at Southwell, when a poor woman came in to
purchase a Bible. The price, she was told by the
shopman, was eight shillings. " Ah, dear sir," she
exclaimed, " I cannot pay such a price ; I did not
think it would cost half the money." The woman
was then, with a look of disappointment, going
away, — when young Byron called her back, and
made her a present of the Bible.

In his attention to his person and dress, to the
bccomins; arrangement of his hair, and to whatever
might best show off the beauty with which nature
had gifted him, he manifested, even thus early, his
anxiety to make himself pleasing to that sex who
were, from first to last, the ruling stars of his destiny.
The fear of becoming, what he was naturally inclined
to be, enormously fat, had induced him, from his
first entrance at Cambridge, to adopt, for the purpose
of reducing himself, a system of violent exercise and
abstinence, together witli the frequent use of warm
baths. But the embittering circumstance of his lite,
— that, which haunted him like a curse, amidst the

138 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

buoyancy of youth, and the anticipations of fame and
pleasure, was, strange to say, the trifling deforniit}'^
of his foot. By that one slight blemish (as in his
moments of melancholy he persuaded himself) all
the blessings that nature had shovv^ered upon him
were counterbalanced. His reverend friend, Mr.
Becher, finding him one day unusually dejected,
endeavoured to cheer and rouse him, by representing,
in their brightest colours, all the various advantages
with which Providence had endowed him, — and,
among the greatest, that of " a mind which placed
him above the rest of mankind." — " Ah, my dear
friend," said Byron, mournfully, — " if this (laying
his hand on his forehead) places me above the rest
of mankind, that (pointing to his foot) places me far,
far below them."

It sometimes, indeed, seemed as if his sensitiveness
on this point led him to fancy that he was the only
person in the world afflicted with such an infirmity.
When that accomplished scholar and traveller, Mr. D.
Baillie, who was at the same school with him at
Aberdeen, met him afterwards at Cambridge, the
young peer had then grown so fat that, though
accosted by him familiarly as his school-fellov/, it was
not till he mentioned his name that Mr. Baillie could
recognise him. " It is odd enough, too, that you
shouldn't know me," said Byron — " I thought nature
had set such a mark upon me, that I could never be
forgot."

But, while this defect was such a source of mor-
tification to his spirit, it was also, and in an equal
degree, perhaps, a stimulus: — and more especially

1807. JAFE OF LOUD BYKON. 139

in whatever depended upon personal prowess or
attractiveness, he seemed to feel himself piqued by
this stigma, which nature, as he thought, had set
upon him, to distinguish himself above those whom
she had endowed with her more " fair proportion."
In pursuits of gallantry he was, I have no doubt, a
good deal actuated by this incentive ; and the hope
of astonishing the world, at some future period, as a
chieftain and hero, mingled little less with his young
dreams than the prospect of a poet's glory. "I will,
some day or other," he used to say, when a boy,
"raise a troop, — the men of which shall be dressed
in black, and ride on black horses. They shall be
called ' Byron's Blacks,' and you will hear of their
performing prodigies of valour."

I have already adverted to the exceeding eager-
ness with which, while at Harrow, he devoured all
sorts of learning, — excepting only that which, by
the regimen of the school, was prescribed for him.
The same rapid and multifarious course of study he
pursued during the holidays; and, in order to deduct
as little as possible from his hours of exercise, he had
given himself the habit, while at home, of reading
all dinner-time.* In a mind so versatile as his,
every novelty, whether serious or light, whether
lofty or ludicrous, found a welcome and an echo ;
and I can easily conceive the glee — as a friend of
his once described it to me — with which he brought
to her, one evening, a copy of Mother Goose's Tales,

* " It v.-as the custom of Burns," says IMr. Lockhart, in
his Life of that poet, " to read at table."

140 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

which he had bought from a hawker that moi'ning,
and read, for the first time, while he dined.

1 shall now give, from a memorandum-book begun
by him this year, the account, as I find it hastily and
promiscuously scribbled out, of all the books in
various departments of knowledge, which he had
already perused at a period of life when few of his
school-fellows had yet travelled beyond their loiigs
and shorts. The list is, unquestionably, a remarkable
one ; — and when we recollect that the reader of all
these volumes was, at the same time, the possessor
of a most retentive memory, it may be doubted
whether, among what are called the regularly edu-
cated, the contenders for scholastic honours and
prizes, there could be found a single one who, at the
same age, has possessed any thing like the same
stock of useful knowledge.

" LIST OF HISTORICAL WRITERS WHOSE WORKS I
HAVE PEKUSED IX DIFFERENT LANGUAGES.

" History of Engkmd. — Hume, Kapin, Henry,
Smollet, Tindal, Belsham, Bisset, Adolphus, Holin-
shed, Froissart's Chronicles (belonging properly to
France^.

" Scotland. — Buchanan, Hector Boethius, both in
the Latin.

" Irdcmd. — Gordon.

" Rome. — Hooke, Decline and Fall by Gibbon,
Ancient History by Rollin (including an account of
the Carthaginians, &c.), besides Livy, Tacitus, Eu-
tropius, Cornelius Nepos, Julius Cecsar, Arrian.
Sallust.

1807.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 141

" Greece. — Mitford's Greece, Leland's Philip,
Plutarch, Potter's Antiquities, Xenophon, Thucy-
dides, Herodotus.

" France. — Mezeray, Voltaire.

" Spain. — I chiefly derived my knowledge of old
Spanish History from a book called the Atlas, now
obsolete. The modern history, from the intrigues
of Alberoni down to the Prince of Peace, I learned
from its connection with European politics.

" Portugal. — From Vertot ; as also his account
of the Siege of Rhodes, — though the last is his own
invention, the real facts being totally different. — So
much for his Knights of Malta.

" Turkey. — I have read Knolles, Sir Paul Rycaut,
and Prince Cantemir, besides a more modern history,
anonymous. Of the Ottoman History I know every
event, from Tangralopi, and afterwards Otliman I.,
to the peace of Passarowitz, in 1718, — the battle of
Cutzka, in 1739, and the treaty between Russia and
Turkey in 1790.

" Russia. — Tooke's Life of Catherine II., Vol-
taire's Czar Peter.

" Sweden. — Voltaire's Charles XII.,also Norberg's
Chai'les XII. — in my opinion the best of the two.
— A translation of Schiller's Thirty Years' War,
which contains the exploits of Gustavus Adolj)hus,
besides Harte's Life of the same Prince. I have
somewhere, too, read an account of Gustavus Vasa,
the deliverer of Sweden, but do not remember the
author's name.

" Prussia. — I have seen, at least, twenty Lives of
Frederick II., the only prince worth recording in

14?2 NOTICES OF THE 1S07.

Prussian annals. Gillies, his own Works, and Thle-
bault, — none very amusing. The last, is paltry, but
circumstantial.

" Denmark — I know little of. Of Norway I under-
stand the natural history, but not the chronological.

" Germany. — I have read long histories of the
house of Suabia, Wenceslaus, and, at length, Rodolph
of Hapsburgh and his thick-lipped Austrian descend-
ants.

'■' Switzerland. — Ah ! William Tell, and the battle
of Morgarten, where Burgundy was slain.

" Itali/. — Davila, Guicciardiiji, the Guelphs and
Ghibellines, the battle of Pavia, Massaniello, the
revolutions of Naples, <S:c. (Src.

" Hindostan. — Orme and Cambridge.

" America. — Robertson, Andrews' American
War.

" Africa — merely from travels, as Mungo Park,
Bruce.

" BIOGRAPHY.

" Robertson's Charles V. — Csesar, Sallust (Cati-
line and Jugurtha), Lives of Marlborough and
Eugene, Tekeli, Bonnard, Buonaparte, all the British
Poets, both by Johnson and Anderson, Rousseau's
Confessions, Life of Cromwell, British Plutarch,
Ikitish Nepos, Campbell's Lives of the Admirals,
Charles XIL, Czar Peter, Catherine IL, Henry Lord
Kaimes, Marmontel, Teignmouth's Sir William Jones,
Life of Newton, Belisaire, with thousands not to be
detailed.

" LAW.

" Blackstone, Montesquieu.

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. HS

" PHILOSOPHY.

" Paley, Locke, Bacon, Hume, Berkeley, Drum-
mond, Beattie, and Bolingbroke. Hobbes I detest.

" GEOGRAPHY.

" Strabo, Cellarius, Adams, Pinkertoii, andGuthrie.

" POETRY.

" All the British Classics as before detailed, with
most of the living poets, Scott, Southey, &c. — Some
French, in the original, of which the Cid is my fa-
vourite.— Little Italian. — Greek and Latin without
number ; — these last I shall give up in future. —
I have translated a good deal from both languages,
verse as well as prose.

" ELOQUEMCE,

" Demosthenes, Cicero, Quintilian, Sheridan, Aus-
tin's Chironomia, and Parliamentary Debates from
the Revolution to the year 1742.

" DIVINITY.

" Blair, Porteus, Tillotson, Hooker, — all very tire-
some. I abhor books of religion, though I reverence
and love my God, without the blasphemous notions
of sectaries, or belief in their absurd and damnable
heresies, mysteries, and Thirty-nine Articles.

" MISCELLANIES.

" Spectator, Rambler, World, Sec. &c. — Novels
by the thousand.

" All the books here enumerated I have taken
down from memory. I recollect reading them, and
can quote passages from any mentioned. I have, of
course, omitted several in my catalogue; but the
greater part of the above I perused before the age

V

144 NOTICES OF THE 1807

of fifteen. Since I left Harrow, I have become idle
and conceited, from scribbling rhyme and making
love to women. B. — Nov. 30. 1807.

" I have also read (to my regret at present) above
four thousand novels, including the works of Cer-
vantes, Fielding, Smollet, Richardson, Mackenzie,
Sterne, Rabelais, and Rousseau, &c. &c. The book,
in my opinion, most useful to a man who wishes to
acquire the reputation of being well read, with the
least trouble, is " Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy,"
the mostamusing and instructive medley of quotations
and classical anecdotes I ever perused. But a su-
perficial reader must take care, or his intricacies
will bewilder him. If, however, he has patience to
go through his volumes, he will be more improved
for literary conversation than by the perusal of any
twenty other works with which I am acquainted, —
at least, in the English language."

To this early and extensive study of English wri-
ters may be attributed that mastery over the re-
sources of his own language with which Lord Byron
came furnished into the field of literature, and which
enabled him, as fast as his youthful fancies sprung
up, to clothe them with a diction worthy of their
strength and beauty. In general, the difficulty of
young writers, at their commencement, lies far less
in any lack of thoughts or images, than in that want
of a fitting organ to give those conceptions vent, to
which their unacquaintance with the great instru-
ment of the man of genius, his native language,
dooms them. It will be found, indeed, that the three

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 14-5

most remarkable examples of early authoi'ship, which,
in then* respective lines, the history of literature
affords — Pope, Congreve, and Chatterton — were
all of them persons self-educated*, according to their
own intellectual wants and tastes, and left, undis-
tracted by the worse than useless pedantries of the
schools, to seek, in the pure " well of English unde-
filed," those treasures of which they accordingly so
very early and intimatelj'^ possessed themselves, f
To these three instances may now be added, virtually,
that of Lord Byron, who, though a disciple of the
schools, was, intellectually speaking, in them, not of
them, and who, while his comrades were prying
curiously into the graves of dead languages, betook
himself to the fresh, living sources of his own J, and

• " I took to reading by myself," says Pope, " for which I
had a very great eagerness and enthusiasm ; .... I
followed every where, as my fancy led me, and was like a boy
gathering flowers in the fields and woods, just as they fell in
his way. These five or six years I still look upon as the
happiest part of my life." It appears, too, that he was him-
self aware of the advantages which this free course of study
brought with it : — " Mr. Pope," says Spence, ♦' thought him-
self the better, in some respects, for not having had a regular
education. He (as he observed in particular) read originally
for the sense, whereas we are taught, for so many years, to
read only for words."

•f Before Chatterton was twelve years old, he wrote a cata-
logue, in the same manner as Lord Byron, of the books he had
already read, to the number of seventy. Of these the chief
subjects were history and divinity.

\ The perfect purity with which the Greeks wrote their
own language, was, with justice, perhaps, attributed by them-
selves to their entire abstinence from the study of any other.

VOL. I. J.

146 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

from tlience drew those rich, varied stores of diction,
which have placed his works, from the age of two-
and-twenty upwards, among the most precious de-
positories of the strength and sweetness of the
EngUsh language that our whole literature supplies.

In the same book that contains the above re-
cord of his studies, he has written out, also from
memory, a " List of the different poets, dramatic
or otherwise, who have distinguished their respective
languages by their productions." After enumerating
the various poets, both ancient and modern, of
Europe, he thus proceeds with his catalogue
through other quarters of the world : —

" Arabia. — Mahomet, whose Koran contains
most sublime poetical passages, far surpassing
European poetry.

" Persia. — Ferdousi, author of the Shah Nameh,
the Persian Iliad — Sadi, and Hafiz, the immortal
Hafiz, the oriental Anacreon. The last is rever-
enced beyond any bard of ancient or modern times
by the Persians, who resort to his tomb near Shiraz,
to celebrate his memory. A splendid copy of his
works is chained to his monument.

" America. — An epic poet has already appeared
in that hemisphere. Barlow, author of the Columbiad,
— not 10 be compared with the works of more
polished nations.

" Iceland.) Denmark, Norway, were famous for
their Skalds. Among these Lodburgh was one of

" If they became learned," says Ferguson, " it was only l)y
studying what they themselves had produced."

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 147

the most distinguished. His Death Song breathes
ferocious sentiments, but a glorious and impassioned
strain of poetry.

*•' Hindostan is undistinguished by any great bard,
— at least the Sanscrit is so imperfectly known to
Europeans, we know not what poetical relics may
exist.

" The Birman Empire. — Here the natives are
passionately fond of poetry, but their bards are un-
known.

" China. — I never heard of any Chinese poet
but the Emperor Kien Long, and his ode to Tea,
What a pity their philosopher Confucius did not
write poetry, with his precepts of morality !

" Africa. — In Africa some of the native melodies
are plaintive, and the words simple and affecting ;
but whether their rude strains of nature can be
classed with poetry, as the songs of the bards, the
Skalds of Europe, Szc. &c., I know not.

" This brief list of poets I have written down
from memory, without any book of 'reference ; con-
sequently some errors may occur, but I think, if
any, very trivial. The works of the European, and
some of the Asiatic; I have perused, either in the
original or translations. In my list of English, I
have merely mentioned the greatest ; — to enumerate
the minor poets would be useless, as well as tedious.
Perhaps Gray, Goldsmith, and Collins, might have
been added, as worthy of mention, in a cosmopolite
account. But as for the otiiers, from Chaucer down
to Churchill, they arc ' voces et praeterea nihil ; ' —
sometimes spoken of, rarely read, and never vvitli

L 2

148 NOTICES OF THE ' 1807.

advantage. Chaucer, notwithstanding the praises
bestowed on him, I think obscene and contemptible :
— he owes his celebrity merely to his antiquity,
which he does not deserve so well as Pierce Plow-
man, or Thomas of Ercildoune. English living
poets I have avoided mentioning; — we have none
who will not survive their productions. Taste is
over with us ; and another century will sweep our
empire, our literature, and our name, from all but a
place in the annals of mankind.

<' November 30. 1807. Byron."

Among the papers of his in my possession are
several detached poems (in all nearly six hundred
lines), which he wrote about this period, but never
printed — having produced most of them after the
publication of his " Hours of Idleness." The greater
number of these have little, besides his name, to re-
commend them ; but there are a few that, from the
feelings and circumstances that gave rise to them,
will, I have no doubt, be interesting to the reader.

When he first went to Newstead, on his arrival
from Aberdeen, he planted, it seems, a young oak in
some part of the grounds, and had an idea that as it
flourished so should he. Some six or seven years
after, on revisiting the spot, he found his oak choked
up by weeds, and almost destroyed. In this circum-
stance, which happened soon after Lord Grey de
Ruthen left Newstead, originated one of these poems,
which consists of five stanzas, but of which the ?evf
opening lines will be a sufficient specimen : —

1807.

LIFE OF t.ORD BYRON. 149

" Young Oak, when I planted thee deep in the ground,
I hoped that thy days would be longer than mine ;
That thy dark-waving branches would flourish arourtd.
And ivy thy trunk with its mantle entwine.

" Such, such was my hope, when, in infancy's years.

On the land of my fathers I rear'd thee with pride ;

They are past, and I water thy stem with my tears,

Thy decay, not the weeds that surround thee can hide.

«' I left thee, my Oak, and, since that fatal hour, i

A stranger has dwelt in the hall of my sire," &c. &C. ;

The subject ofthe verses that follow is sufficiently
explained by the notice which he has prefixed to
them ; and, as illustrative ofthe romantic and almost
lovelike feeling which he threw into his school
friendships, they appeared to me, though rather
quaint and elaborate, to be worth preserving.

" Some years ago, when at H , a friend of

the author engraved on a particular spot the names
of both, with a few additional words as a memorial.
Afterwards, on receiving some real or imagined in-
jury, the author destroyed the frail record before

he left H . On revisiting the place in 1807,

he wrote under it the following stanzas : —

" Here once engaged the stranger's view

Young Friendship's record simply traced ;
Few were her words, — but yet though few.
Resentment's hand the line defaced,

" Deeply she cut — but, not erased.
The characters were still so plain.
That Friendship once return'd, and gazed, —
Till Memory hail'd the words again.
L 3

150 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

** Repentance placed them as before ;
Forgiveness join'd her gentle name ;
So fair the inscription seem'd once more
That Friendship thought it still the same.

" Thus might the record now have been ;
But, ah, in spite of Hope's endeavour.
Or Friendship's tears. Pride rush'd between,
And blotted out the line for ever ! "

The same romantic feeling of friendship breathes
throughout another of these poems, in which he has
taken for the subject the ingenious thought " L' Amitie
est I'Amour sans ailes," and concludes every stanza
with the words, " Friendship is Love without his
wings." Of the nine stanzas of which this poem
consists, the three following appear the most worthy
of selection : —

" Why should my anxious breast repine,

Because my youth is fled ?
Days of delight may still be mine,

Affection is not dead.
In tracing back the years of youth,
One firm record, one lasting truth

Celestial consolation brings ;
Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat,
Where first my heart responsive beat, —

' Friendship is Love without his wings ! '

" Seat of my youth ! thy distant spire

Recalls each scene of joy;
My bosom glows with former fire, —

In mind again a boy.
Thy grove of elms, thy verdant hill,
Thy every path delights me still.

Each flower a double fragrance flings ;
Again, as once, in converse gay.
Each dear associate seems to say,

' Friendship is Love without his wings ! *

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 151

" My Lycus ! wherefore dost thou weep ?

Thy falling tears restrain;
Affection for a time may sleep,

But, oh, 'twill wake again.
Think, think, my friend, when next we meet,
Our long-wish'd intercourse, how sweet!

From this my hope of rapture springs.
While youthful hearts thus fondly swell,
Absence, my friend, can only tell,

' Friendship is Love without his wings ! ' "

Whether the verses I am now about to give are,
in any degree, founded on fact, I have no accurate
means of determining. Fond as he was of recording
every particular of his youth, such an event, or rather
era, as is here commemorated, would have been, of
all others, the least likely to pass unmentioned by
liim ; — and yet neither in conversation nor in any
of his writings do I remember even an allusion to
it.* On the other hand, so entirely was all that he

• The only circumstance I know, that bears even remotely
on the subject of this poem, is the following. About a year
or two before the date affixed to it, he wrote to his mother,
from Harrow (as I have been told by a person to whom
Mrs. Byron herself communicated the circumstance), to say,
that he had lately had a good deal of uneasiness on account of
a young woman, whom he knew to have been a favourite of
his late friend, Curzon, and who, finding herself, after his
death, in a state of progress towards maternity, had declared
Lord Byron was the father of her child. This, he positively
assured his mother, was not the case ; but, believing, as he did
firmly, that the child belonged to Curzon, it was his wish that
it should be brought up with all possible care, and he, there-
fore, entreated that his mother would have the kindness to
take charge of it. Though such a request might well (as my
informant expresses it) have discomposed a temper more mild

L 4

152 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

wrote, — making allowance for the embellishments
of fancy, — the transcript of his actual life and feel-
ings, that it is not easy to suppose a poem, so full of
natural tenderness, to have been indebted for its
origin to imagination alone.

" TO MY SON!

" Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue,
Bright as thy mother's in their hue ;
Those rosy lips, whose dimples play
And smile to steal the heart away,
Recall a scene of former joy,
And touch thy Father's heart, my Boy !

" And thou canst lisp a father's name —
Ah, William, were thine own the same,
No self-reproach — but, let me cease —
My care for thee shall purchase peace ;
Thy mother's shade shall smile in joy.
And pardon all the past, my Boy !

" Her lowly grave the turf has prest,

And thou hast known a stranger's breast. .

Derision sneers upon thy birth.

And yields thee scarce a name on earth ;

Yet shall not these one hope destroy, —

A Father's heart is thine, ray Boy !

than Mrs. Byron's, she notwithstanding answered her son in
the kindest terms, saying that she would willingly receive the
child as soon as it was born, and bring it up in whatever
manner he desired. Happily, however, the infant died almost
immediately, and was thus spared the being a tax on the good
nature of any body.

1807. tip's OF LORD BYRON. 153

" Why, let the world unfeeling frown,
Must I fond Nature's claim disown ?
Ah, no — though moralists reprove,
I hail thee, dearest child of love,
Fair cherub, pledge of youth and joy —
A Father guards thy birth, my Boy !

" Oh, 'twill be sweet in thee to trace,
Ere age has wrinkled o'er my face,
Ere half my glass of life is run.
At once a brother and a son ;
And all my wane of years employ
In justice done to thee, my Boy !

" Although so young thy heedless sire,
Youth will not damp parental fire ;
And, wert thou still less dear to me,
While Helen's form revives in thee.
The breast, which beat to former joy,
Will ne'er desert its pledge, my Boy !

« B , 1807."*

* In this practice of dating his juvenile poems he followed
the example of Milton, who (says Johnson), " by affixing the
dates to his first compositions, a boast of which the learned
Politian had given him an example, seems to commend the
earliness of his own compositions to the notice of posterity."

The following trifle, written also by him in 1 807, has never,
as far as I know, appeared in print : —

" EPITAPH ON JOHN ADAMS, OF SOUTHWELL, A CARRIER,
" WHO DIED OF DRUNKENNESS.

" John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell,
A Carrier, who canied his can to his mouth well ;
He carried so much, and he carried so fast,
He could cany no more — so was carried at last ;
For, the liquor he drank being too much for one.
He could not cany off, — so he 's now carri-on.

" B , Sept. 1807.'"

154< NOTICES OF THE

1807

But the most remarkable of these poems is one
of a date prior to any I have given, being written in
December, 1806, when he was not yet nineteen years
old. It contains, as will be seen, his religious creed
at that period, and shows how early the struggle
between natural piety and doubt began in his mind.

« THE PRAYER OF NATURE.

" Father of Light ! great God of Heaven !
Hear'st thou the accents of despair?
Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven ?

Can vice atone for crimes by prayer?
Father of Light, on thee I call !

Thou see'st my soul is dark within ;
Thou who canst mark the sparrow's fall,

Avert from me the death of sin.
No shrine I seek, to sects unknown,

Oh point to me the path of truth !
Thy dread omnipotence I own.

Spare, yet amend, the faults of youth.
Let bigots rear a gloomy fane,

Let superstition hail the pile,
Let priests, to spread their sable reign,

With tales of mystic rites beguile.
Shall man confine his Maker's sway

To Gothic domes of mouldering stone ?
Thy temple is the face of day ;

Earth, ocean, heaven, thy boundless throne.
Shall man condemn his race to hell

Unless they bend in pompous form ;
Tell us that all, for one who fell,

Must perish in the mingling storm?
Shall each pretend to reach the skies,

Yet doom his brother to expire.
Whose soul a different hope supplies,

Or doctrines less severe inspire ?

1807.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 155

Shall these, by creeds they can't expound,

Prepare a fancied bliss or woe ?
Shall reptiles, grovelling on the ground,

Their great Creator's purpose know ?
Shall those who live for self alone,

Whose years float on in daily crime —
Shall they by Faith for guilt atone.

And live beyond the bounds of Time?
Father ! no prophet's laws I seek, —

Thy laws in Nature's works appear ; —
I own myself corrupt and weak.

Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear !
Thou, who canst guide the wandering star

Through trackless realms of Other's space ;
Who calm'st the elemental war.

Whose hand from pole to pole I trace :
Thou, who in wisdom placed me here,

Who, when thou wilt, can take me hence.
Ah ! whilst I tread this earthly sphere,

Extend to me thy wide defence.
To Thee, my God, to Thee I call !

Whatever weal or woe betide.
By thy command I rise or fall,

In thy protection I confide.
If, when this dust to dust restored.

My soul shall float on airy wing.
How shall thy glorious name adored,

Inspire her feeble voice to sin

o

. I

But, if this fleeting spirit share

With clay the grave's eternal bed,
While life yet throbs, I raise my prayer.

Though doom'd no more to quit the dead.
To Thee I breathe my humble strain,

Grateful for all thy mercies past.
And hope, my God, to thee again

This erring life may fly at last.

« 29th Dec. 1806. Byroi»."

156 ■ NOTICES OF THE 18071

In another of these poems, which extends to
about a hundred Hnes, and which he wrote under
the melancholy impression that he should soon die,
we find him concluding with a prayer in somewhat the
same spirit. After bidding adieu to all the favourite
scenes of his youth *, he thus continues, —

" Forget this world, my restless sprite,

Turn, turn thy thoughts to Heav'n :
Tliere must thou soon direct thy flight.

If errors are forgiven.
To bigots and to sects unknown,
Bow down beneath the Almighty's throne ; —

To him address thy trembling prayer ;
He, who is merciful and just,
Will not reject a child of dust.

Although his meanest care.
Father of Light, to thee I call.

My soul is dark within ;
Thou, who canst mark the sparrow fall.

Avert the death of sin.
Thou, who canst guide the wandering star,
Who calm'st the elemental war,

Whose mantle is yon boundless sky.
My thoughts, my words, my crimes forgive ;
And, since I soon must cease to live,

Instruct me how to die. 1807.

• Annesley is, of course, not forgotten among the num-
ber: —

" And shall I here forget the scene,

Still nearest to my breast?
Rocks rise and rivers roll between

The rural spot which passion blest ;
Yet, Mary, all thy beauties seem
Fresh as in Love's bewitching dream," &c. &C4

J807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 157

We have seen, by a former letter, that the law
proceedings for the recovery of his Rochdale pro-
perty had been attended with success in some trial
of the case at Lancaster. The following note to
one of his Southwell friends, announcing a second
triumph of the cause, shows how sanguinely and,
as it turned out, erroneously, he calculated on the
results.

« Feb. 9. 1807.

" Dear ,

" I have the pleasure to inform you we have
gained the Rochdale cause a second time, by which
I am s£60,000 J}! us. Yours ever,

" Byrox."

In the month of April we find him still at South-
well, and addressing to his friend, Dr. Pigot, who was
at Edinburgh, the following note : * —

* It appears from a passage in one of Miss 's

letters to her brother, that Lord Byron sent, through this
gentleman, a copy of his poems to Mr. Mackenzie, tlie author
of the Man of Feeling : — "I am glad you mentioned Mr.
Mackenzie's having got a copy of Lord B.'s poems, and
what he tliought of them — Lord B. was so much pleased ! "

In another letter, the fair writer says, — " Lord Byron
desired me to tell you that the reason you did not hear from
him was because his publication was not so forward as he had
flattered himself it would have been. I told him, ' he was no
more to be depended on than a woman,' which instantly
brought the softness of that sex into his countenance, for he
blushed exceedingly."

158 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

" Southwell, April, 1807.
" My dear PIgot,

" Allow me to congratulate you on the success
of your first examination — ' Courage, mon ami.*
The title of Doctor will do wonders with the damsels.
I shall most probably be in Essex or London when

you arrive at this d d place, where I am detained

by the publication of my rhymes.

" Adieu. — Believe me yours very truly,

" Byron.

" P. S. Since we met, I have reduced myself by
violent exercise, much physic, and hot bathing, from
H stone 61b. to 12 stone 71b. In all I have lost
27 pounds. Bravo ! — what say you ? "

His movements and occupations for the remainder
of this year will be best collected from a series of
his own letters, which I am enabled, by the kindness
of the lady to whom they were addressed, to give.
Though these letters are boyishly * written, and a
good deal of their pleasantry is of that conventional
kind which depends more upon phrase than thought,
they will yet, I think, be found curious and interest-
ing, not only as enabling us to track him through
this period of his life, but as throwing light upon
various little traits of character, and laying open to

* He was, indeed, a thorough boy, at tliis period, in everj'

respect : — " Next Monday " (says Miss ) " is our

great fair. Lord Byron talks of it with as much pleasure as
little Henry, and declares lie will ride in the round-about, —
but I think he will change his mind."

J807, LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 159

US the first working of his hopes and fears while
waiting, in suspense, the opinions that were to de-
cide, as he thought, his future fame. The first of
the series, which is without date, appears to have
been written before he had left Southwell. The
other letters, it will be seen, are dated from Cam-
bridge and from London.

Letter 12. TO MISS

" June 11. 1807.

" Dear Queen Bess,

" Savage ought to be immortal: — though not
a thorough-bred hull-dog, he is the finest puppy I
ever saw, and will answer much better ; in his great
and manifold kindness he has already bitten my
fingers, and disturbed the gravity of old Boatswain,
who is grievously discomposed. I wish to be informed
what he costs, his expenses, &c. <S:c., that I may

indemnify Mr. G . My thanks are all I can

give for the trouble he has taken, make a long speech,
and conclude it with 12 3 4 5 6 7.* I am out of
practice, so deputize you as legate, — ambassador
would not do in a matter concerning the Pope, which
I presume this must, as the whole turns upon a Bull.

" Yours,

« Byron.

«P.S. I write in bed."

* He here alludes to an odd fancy or trick of his own ; —
whenever he was at a loss for something to say, he used always
lo gabble over "12 3 4 5 6 7."

IQQ NOTICES OF THE 1«07-

Letter 13. TO MISS ••

« Cambridge, June 30. 1807.

" ' Better late than never, Pal, '" is a saying of
which you know the origin, and as it is applicable on
the present occasion, you will excuse its conspicuous
place in the front of my epistle. I am almost super-
annuated here. My old friends (with the exception
of a very few) all departed, and I am preparing to
follow them, but remain till ^Monday to be present at
three Oratorios, two Concerts, a Fair, and a Ball. I
find I am not only thinner but taller by an inch since
my last visit. 1 was obliged to tell every body my
name, nobody having the least recollection of my
visage, or person. Even the hero of my Cornelian
(who is now sitting vis-d-vis, reading a volume of
my Poetics) passed me in Trinity walks without
recognising me in the least, and was thunderstruck
at the alteration which had taken place in my coun-
tenance, &c. &c. Some say I look better, others
worse, but all agree I am thinner — more I do not
require. I have lost two pounds in my weight since I
leftyour cursed, detestable, and abhorred abode of sraH-
dal*, where, excepting yourself and John Becher,

* Notwithstanding the abuse which, evidently more in sport
than seriousness, he lavishes, in the course of these letters^
upon Southwell, he was, in after days, taught to feel that the
hours which he had passed in this place were far more happy
than any he had known afterwards. In a letter written not
long since to his servant, Fletcher, by a lady who had been in-
timate with him, in his young days, at Southwell, there are the
following words : — " Your poor, good master always called
me ' Old Piety,' when I preached to him. When he paid

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRO.V. 161

I care not if the whole race were consigned to
the Pit of Acheron, which I would visit in person
rather than contaminate my sandals with the polluted
dust of Southwell. Seriously, unless obliged by the
emptiness of my purse to revisit Mrs. B., you will see
me no more.

" On Monday I depart for London. I quit Cam-
bridge with little regret, because our set are
vanished, and my musical protege before mentioned
has left the choir, and is stationed in a mercantile
house of considerable eminence in the metropolis.
You may have heard me observe he is exactly to an
hour two years younger than myself. I found him
grown considerably, and, as you will suppose, very
glad to see his former Patron. He is nearly my
height, very thin, very fair complexion, dark eyes,
and light locks. My opinion of his mind you already
know ; — I hope I shall never have occasion to change
it. Every body here conceives me to be an invalid.
The University at present is very gay from the fetes
of divers kinds. I supped out last night, but eat
(or ate) nothing, sipped a bottle of claret, went to
bed at two, and rose at eight. I have commenced
early rising, and find it agrees with me. The Mas-
ters and the Fellows all very polite, but look a little
askance — don't much admire lampoons — truth
always disagreeable.

me his last visit, he said, ' Well, good friend, I shall never be
so happy again as I was in old Southwell.' " His real opinion
of the advantages of this town, as a place of residence, will be
seen in a subsequent letter, where he most strenuously recom-
mends it, in that point of view, to Mr. Dallas.
VOL. I. M

162 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

" Write, and tell me how the inhabitants of your
Menagerie go o», and if my publication goes off well :
do the quadrupeds fjrowl .*' Apropos, my bull-dog is
deceased — ' Flesh both of cur and man is grass.'
Address your answer to Cambridge. If I am gone,
it will be forwarded. Sad news just arrived — Rus-
sians beat — a bad set, eat nothing but oil, conse-
quently must melt before a hard fire. I get awkward
in my academic habiliments for want of practice.
Got up in a window to hear the oratorio at St.
Mary's, popped down in the middle of the Messiah,
tore a woeful rent in the back of my best black silk
gown, and damaged an egregious pair of breeches.
Mem. — never tumbled from a church window during
service. Adieu, dear * * * * ! do not remember me
to any body : — to forget and be forgotten by the
people of Southwell is all I aspire to."

Letter 14. TO MISS

'< Trin. Coll. Camb. July 5. 1807.
" Since my last letter I have determined to reside
another year at Granta, as my rooms, &c. Sec. are
finished in great style, several old friends come up
again, and many new acquaintances made ; conse-
quently my inclination leads me forward, and I shall
return to college in October if still alive. My life
here has been one continued routine of dissipation —
out at different places every day, engaged to more
dinners, Sec. &c. than my stay would permit me to
fulfil. At this moment I write with a bottle of claret
in my head and tears in my eyes; for I have just
parted with my ' Cornelian^ who spent the evening

1807.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 163

with me. As it was our last interview, I postponed
my engagement to devote the hours of the Sabbath
to friendship: — EdJeston and I have separated for
the present, and my mind is a chaos of hope and
sorrow. To-morrow I set out for London : you will
address your answer to ' Gordon's Hotel, Albemarle
Street,' where I sojourn during my visit to the me-
tropolis.

" I rejoice to hear you are interested in my protege;
lie has been my almost constant associate since Oc-
tober, 1805, when I entered Trinity College. His
voice first attracted ray attention, his countenance
fixed it, and his manners attached me to him for
ever. He departs for a mercantile house in town in
October, and we shall probably not meet till the
expiration of my minority, when I shall leave to his
decision either entering as a partner through my
interest, or residing with me altogether. Of course
he would in his present frame of mind prefer the
latter, but he may alter his opinion previous to that
period ; — however, he shall have his choice. I cer-
tainly love him more than any human being, and
neither time nor distance have had the least effect on
my (in general) changeable disposition. In short,
we shall put Lady E. Butler and Miss Ponsonhj to
the blush, Pi/lades and Orestes out of countenance,
and want nothing but a catastrophe like Nisxs and
Euri/alus, to give Jonathan and David the ' go by.'
He certainly is perhaps more attached to me than
even I am in return. During the whole of my resi-
dence at Cambridge we met every day, summer and
winter, without passing one tiresome moment, and

M 2

164 NOTICES OF THE 1S07.

separated each time with increasing rehictance. I
hope you will one day see us together, he is the only
being I esteem, though I like many. *

* It may be as well to mention here the sequel of this en-
thusiastic attachment. In tlie year 1811 young Edleston died
of a consumption, and the following letter, addressed by Lord
Byron to the mother of his fair Southwell correspondent, will
show with what melancholy faithfulness, among the many his
heart had then to mourn for, he still dwelt on the memory of
his young college friend : —

« Cambridge, Oct. 28. 1811.
« Dear Madam,

" I am about to write to you on a silly subject, and yet I
cannot well do otherwise. You may remember a cornelian,
which some years ago I consigned to Miss * * * *, indeed gave
to her, and now I am going to make the most selfish and rude
of requests. The person who gave it to me, when I was very
young, is dead, and though a long time lias elapsed since we
met, as it was the only memorial I possessed of that person
(in whom I was very much interested), it has acquired a value
by this event I could have wished it never to have borne in my
eyes. If, therefore, Miss * * * * should have preserved it, I
must, under these circumstances, beg her to excuse my request-
ing it to be transmitted to me at No. 8. St. James's Street,
London, and I will replace it by something she may remember
me by equally well. As she was always so kind as to feel
interested in the fate of him that formed the subject of our
conversation, you may tell her tlial the giver of that cornelian
died in May last of a consumption, at the age of twenty-one,
making the sixth, within four months, of friends and relatives
that I have lost between May and the end of August.
" Believe me, dear Madam, yours very sincerely,

" Byron.
" P. S. I go to London to-morrow."

The cornelian heart was, of course, returned, and Lord
Bvron, at the same time, reminded that he had left it with
Miss * * * •

1807.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 165

" The Marquis of Tavistock was down the other
day ; I supped with him at his tutor's — entirely a
Whig party. The opposition muster strong here
now, and Lord Hartington, the Duke of Leinster,
&c. &-C. are to join us in October, so every thing will
be splendid. The music is all over at present. Met
with another ' accidency ' — upset a butter-boat in
the lap of a lady — look'd very blue — spectators
grinned — ' curse 'em ! ' Apropos, sorry to say,
been drunk every day, and not quite sober yet —
however, touch no meat, nothing but fish, soup, and
vegetables, consequently it does me no harm — sad
dogs all the Cantabs. Mem. — ive mean to reform
next January. This place is a monotony of endless
variety — like it — hate Southwell. Has Ridge sold
well? or do the ancients demur? What ladies have
bought ?

*' Saw a girl at St. Mary's the image of Anne* * *,
thought it was her — all in the wrong — the lady
stared, so did I — I blushed, so did not the lad}', —
sad thing — wish women had more modesty. Talk-
ing of women, puts me in mind of my terrier Fanny
— how is she? Got a headach, must go to bed-
up early in the morning to travel. My protege
breakfosts with me ; parting spoils my appetite —
excepting from Southwell. Mem. I hate Southwell.
Yours, &c."

Letter 15. TO MISS

« Gordon's Hotel, July IS. 1P07.

" You write most excellent epistles — a fig for

other correspondents, with their nonsensical apolo-

166 NOTICES OF THE 1S07.

gies for '■hnoxmng nouylit about it,' — you send me a
delightful budget. I am here in a perpetual vortex
of dissipation (very pleasant for all that), and,
strange to tell, I get thinner, being now below
eleven stone considerably. Stay in town a month,
perhaps six weeks, trip into Essex, and then, as a
favour, irradiate Southwell for three days with the
light of my countenance ; but nothing shall ever
make me reside there again. I positively return to
Cambridge in October ; we are to be uncommonly
gay, or in truth I should cut the University. An
extraordinary circumstance occurred to me at Cam-
bridge ; a girl so very like * * made her appear-
ance, that nothing but the most minute inspection
could have undeceived me. I wish I had asked if
she had ever been at H * * *

"What the devil would Ridge have? is not fifty
in a fortnight, before the advertisements, a sufficient
sale ? I hear many of the London booksellers have
them, and Crosby has sent copies to the principal
watering places. Are they liked or not in South-
well ?*****! wish Boatswain had
swallowed Damon ! How is Bran ? by the immortal
gods, Bran ought to be a Count of the Holi/ Roman
Empire.

" The intelligence of London cannot be interest-
ing to you, who have rusticated all your life — the
annals of routs, riots, balls and boxing-matches,
cards and crim. cons., parliamentary discussion,
political details, masquerades, mechanics, Argyle
Street Institution and aquatic races, love and lot-
teries, Brookes's and Buonaparte, opera-singers and

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 167

oratorios, wine, women, wax-v/ork, and weather-
cocks, can't accord with your insulated ideas of de-
corum and other silly expressions not inserted in our
vocabulary.

"Oh! Southwell, Southwell, howl rejoice to have
left thee, and how I curse the heavy hours I drag-
ged along, for so many months, among the Mohawks
who inhabit your kraals ! — However, one thing I
do not regret, which is having pared off a sufficient
quantity of flesh to enable me to slip into ' an eel
skin,' and vie with the slim beaux of modern times ;
though I am sorry to say, it seems to be the mode
amongst gentlemen to grow fat, and I am told I am
at least fourteen pound below the fashion. How-
ever, I decrease instead of enlarging, which is extra-
ordinary, as violent exercise in London is impractica-
ble ; but I attribute the phenomenon to our evening
squeezes at public and private parties. I heard
from Ridge this morning (the 14th, my letter was
begun yesterday): he says the poems go on as well
as can be wished ; the seventy-five sent to town
are circulated, and a demand for fifty more com-
plied with, the day he dated his epistle, though
the advertisements are not yet half published.
Adieu.

" P. S. Lord Carlisle, on receiving my poems,
sent, before he opened the book, a tolerably hand-
some letter : — I have not heard from him since.
His opinions I neither know nor care about : if he is
the least insolent, I shall enrol him with Bulla' *

* In the Collection of liis Poems printed for private cii'-
culation, he had inserted some severe verses on Dr. Butler,

M 4;

168 NOTICES OF THE lf-07.

and the other worthies. He Is in Yorkshire, poor
man ! and very ill ! He said he had not had time
to read the contents, but thought it necessary to
acknowledge the receipt of the volume immediately.
Perhaps the Earl ' bears no brother near the throne,'
— if so, I will make his sceptre totter in his hands. —
Adieu ! "

Letter 16. TO MISS

" August 2. 1S07.

" London begins to disgorge its contents —
town is empty — consequently I can scribble at
leisure, as occupations are less numerous. In a
fortnight I shall depart to fulfil a country engage-
ment ; but expect two epistles from you previous
to that period. Ridge does not proceed rapidly in
Notts — very possible. In town things wear a more
promising aspect, and a man whose works are
praised by reviewers, admired by duchesses, and sold
by every bookseller of the metropolis, does not dedi-
cate much consideration to rustic readers. I have
now a review before me, entitled ' Literary Recre-
ations,' where my hardship is applauded far beyond
my deserts. I know nothing of the critic, but think
him a very discerning gentleman, and myself & devil-
ish clever fellow. His critique pleases me particu-
larly, because it is of great length, and a proper
quantum of censure is administered, just to give an

which he omitted in the subsequent publication, — at the same
time explaining why he did so, in a note little less severe than
the verses.

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 169

agreeable irlish to the praise. You know I hate hi-
sipid, unqualified, common-place compliment. If
you would wish to see it, order the 13th Number of
' Literary Recreations ' for the last month. I assure
vou I have not the most distant idea of the writer
of the article — it is printed in a periodical publi-
cation — and though I have written a paper (a review
of Wordsworth *), which appears in the same work,
I am ignorant of every other person concerned in it
— even the editor, whose name I have not heard.
My cousin, Lord Alexander Gordon, who resided in
the same hotel, told me his mother, her Grace of
Gordon, requested he would introduce my Poetical
Lordship to her Highness, as she had bought my
volume, admired it exceedingly, in common with the
rest of the fashionable Avorld, and wished to claim

* This first attempt of Lord Byron at reviewing (for it will
be seen that he, once or twice afterwards, tried his hand at this
least poetical of employments) is remarkable only as sliowing
how plausibly he could assume the established tone and
phraseology of these minor judgment-seats of criticism. For
instance : — " The volumes before us are by the author of
Lyrical Ballads, a collection which has not undeservedly met
with a considerable share of public applause. The character-
istics of Mr. Wordsworth's muse are simple and flowing,
though occasionally inharmonious, verse, — strong and some-
times irresistible appeals to the feelings, with unexceptionable
sentiments. Though the present work may not equal his
former efforts, many of the poems possess a native elegance,"
&c. &c. &c. If Mr. Wordsworth ever chanced to cast his,eye
over this article, how little could he have suspected that imder
that dull prosaic mask lurked one who, in five short years from
thence, would rival even him in poetry.

170 NOTICES OF THE 1807.

her relationship with the author. I was unluckily
engaged on an excursion for some days afterwards,
and as the Duchess was on the eve of departing for
Scotland, I have postponed my introduction till the
winter, when I shall favour the lady, whose taste 1
shall not dispute, with my most sublime and edifying
conversation. She is now in the Highlands, and
Alexander took his departure, a few daj's ago, for
the same blessed seat of '•dark rolling ivinds.'

" Crosby, my London publisher, has disposed of
his second importation, and has sent to Ridge for a
third — at least so he says. In every bookseller's
window I see my own name, and sai/ nothing, but
enjoy my fame in secret. My last reviewer kindly
requests me to alter my determination of writing no
more ; and ' A Friend to the Cause of Literature '
begs I will gratify the jnihlic with some new work
' at no very distant period.' Who would not be a
bard ? — that is to say, if all critics would be so polite.
However, the others will pay me off, I doubt not,
for this gentle encouragement. If so, have at 'em ?
By the by, I have written at my intervals of leisure,
after two in the morning, 380 lines in blank verse,
of Bosworth Field. I have luckily got Hutton's
account. I shall extend the poem to eight or ten
books, and shall have finished it in a year. Whether
it will be published or not must depend on circum-
stances. So much for egotism ! My laurels have
turned my brain, but the cooling acids of forth-
coming criticisms will probably restore me to mo-
desty.

" Southwell is a damned place — I have done

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 171

with it — at least in all probability: excepting
yourself, I esteem no one within its precincts. You
were my only rational companion ; and in plain
truth, I had more respect for you than the whole
bevy, with whose foibles I amused myself in com-
pliance with their prevailing propensities. You gave
yourself more trouble with me and my manuscripts
than a thousand dolls would have done. Believe
me, I have not forgotten your good nature in this
circle of sin, and one day I trust I shall be able to
evince my gratitude. Adieu, yours, &:c.
" P. S. llemeniber me to Dr. P."

Letteh 17. TO MISS .

" London, August 11. 1807.

" On Sunday next I set off for the Highlands.*
A friend of mine accompanies me in my carriage to
Edinburgh. There we shall leave it, and proceed
in a tandem (a species of open carriage) through the
western passes to Inverary, where we shall purchase
shelties, to enable us to view places inaccessible to
vehicular conveyances. On the coast we shall hire
a vessel, and visit the most remarkable of the He-
brides ; and, if we have time and favourable weather,

* This plan (which he never put in practice) had been
talked of by him before he left Southwell, and is thus noticed
in a letter of his fair correspondent to her brotlier : — " How
can you ask if Lord 15. is going to visit the Highlands in the
summer? Wliy, don't you know that he never knows his own
mind for ten minutes together? I tell him he is as fickle as the
winds, and as uncertain as the waves."

172 NOTICES OF THE 1807

mean to sail as far as Iceland, only 300 miles from
tlie northern extremity of Caledonia, to peep at
Hecla. This last intention you will keep a secret,
as my nice mamma would imagine I was on a
Voyage of Discovery, and raise the accustomed ma'
ternal warwhoop.

" Last week I swam in the Thames from Lambeth
through the two bridges, Westminster and Black-
fi'iars, a distance, including the different turns and
tacks made on the way, of three miles ! You see I
am in excellent training in case of a sqtiall at sea.
I mean to collect aU the Erse traditions, poems, &c.
&c., and translate, or expand the subject to fill a
volume, which may appear next spring under the
denomination of ' The Highland Harjy,' or some
title equally picturesque. Of Bosworth Field, one
book is finished, another just began. It will be a
work of three or four years, and most probably never
conclude. What would you say to some stanzas on
Mount Hecla? they would be written at least with
fire. How is the immortal Bran ? and the Phcenix
of canine quadrupeds. Boatswain ? I have lately
purchased a thorough-bred bull-dog, worthy to be
the coadjutor of the aforesaid celestials — his name
is Smut ! — ' Bear it, ye breezes, on your halmy
wings.'

" Write to me before I set off, I conjure you, by
the fifth rib of your grandfather. Ridge goes on
well with the books — I thought that worthy had
not done much in the country. In town they have
been very successful ; Carpenter (Moore's publisher)
told me a ^q-^ days ago they sold all theirs imme-

1807. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 173

diately, and had several enquiries made since, which,
from tlie books being gone, they coukl not supply.
The Duke of York, the Marchioness of Headfort, the
Duchess of Gordon, &c. &c., were among the pur-
chasers ; and Crosby says, the circulation will be still
more extensive in the winter, the summer season
being very bad for a sale, as most people are absent
from London. However, they have gone off ex-
tremely well altogether. I shall pass very near you
on my journey through Newark, but cannot approach.
Don't tell this to Mrs. B., who supposes I travel a
different road. If you have a letter, order it to be
left at Ridge's shop, where I shall call, or the post-
office, Newark, about six or eight in the evening. If
your brother would ride over, I should be devilish
glad to see him — he can return the same night, or
sup with us and go home the next morning — the
Kingston Arms is my inn.

" Adieu, yours ever,

" Byron."

Letter 18. TO MISS .

" Trinity College, Cambridge, October 26. 1807.

*' My dear Elizabeth,

" Fatigued with sitting up till four in the morn-
ing for the last two days at hazard*, I take up my

* We observe here, as in other parts of his early letters, that
sort of display and boast of rakishness which is but too com-
mon a folly at this period of life, when the young aspirant to
manhood persuades himself that to be profligate is to be manly.
Unluckily, this boyish desire of being thought worse than he
really was, remained with Lord Byron, as did some other

174 NOTICES OF THE 1807,

pen to enquire how your highness and the rest of my
female acquaintance at the seat of archiepiscopal
grandeur go on. I know I deserve a scolding for
my negligence in not writing more frequently ; but
racing up and down the country for these last three
months, how was it possible to fulfil the duties of a
correspondent ? Fixed at last for six weeks, I
write, as thin as ever (not having gained an ounce
since my reduction), and rather in better humour ;
— but, after all, Southwell was a detestable residence.
Thank St. Dominica, I have done with it : I have
been twice within eight miles of it, but could not
prevail on myself to suffocate in its heavy atmosphere.
This place is wretched enough — a villanous chaos
of din and drunkenness, nothing but hazard and
burgundy, hunting, mathematics, and Newmarket,
riot and racing. Yet it is a paradise compared
with the eternal dulness of Southwell. Oh ! the
misery of doing nothing but make love, enemiesy
and verses.

" Next January, (but this is entre nous only, and
pray let it be so, or my maternal persecutor will be
throwing her tomahawk at any of my curious pro-
jects,) I am going to sea for four or five months, with
my cousin Capt. Bettesworth, who ccnmiands the
Tartar, the finest frigate in the navy. I have seen

feelings and foibles of his boyhood, long after the period when,
with others, they are past and forgotten ; and liis mind, in-
deed, was but beginning to outgrow them, when he was
snatched away.

i807. LIFE OF LOUD EYIION. 175

most scenes, and wish to look at a naval life. We
are going probably to the Mediterranean, or to the
West Indies, or — to the d — 1 ; and it' there is a
possibility of taking me to the latter, Bettesworth
will do it ; for he has received four and twenty
wounds in difterent places, and at this moment pos-
sesses a letter from the late Lord Nelson, stating
Bettesworth as the only officer in the navy who had
more wounds than himself.

" I have got a new friend, the finest in the world,
a tame hear. When I brought him here, they asked
me what I meant to do with him, and my reply was,
' he should sit for a felloivsliip.' Sherard will explain
the meaning of the sentence, if it is ambiguous.
This answer delighted them not. We have several
parties here, and this evening a large assortment of
jockeys, gamblers, boxers, authors, parsons, and
poets, sup with me, — a precious mixture, but they
go on well together ; and for me, I am a spice of
every thing except a jockey ; by the by, I was dis-
mounted again the other day.

Thank your brother in my name for his treatise.
I have written 2\^ pages of a novel, — one poem of
380 lines*, to be published (without my name) in
a few weeks, with notes, — 560 lines of Bosworth
Field, and 250 lines of another poem in rhyme, be-
sides half a dozen smaller pieces. The poem to be

* The poem afterwards enlarged and published under the
title of " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." It appears
from this that the ground-work of that satire had been laid
some time before the appearance of the article in the Edinburgh
Review.

176 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

published is a Satire. Apropos, I have been praised
to the skies in the Critical Review *, and abused
greatly in another publication, -f- So much the
better, they tell me, for the sale of the book : it
keeps up controversy, and prevents it being forgotten.
Besides, the first men of all ages have had their
share, nor do the humblest escape ; — so I bear it
like a philosopher. It is odd two opposite critiques
came out on the same da}^, and out of five pages of
abuse, my censor only quotes tivo lines from different
poems, in support of his opinion. Now, the proper
way to cut up, is to quote long passages, and make
them appear absurd, because simple allegation is no
proof. On the other hand, there are seven pages of
praise, and more than /«^ modesty will allow, said on
the subject. Adieu. »

" P. S. Write, write, write ! I ! "

It was at the beginning of the following year that
an acquaintance commenced between Lord Byron
and a gentleman, related to his family by marriage,

* Sept. 1807. This Review, in pronouncing upon the
young author's future career, showed itself somewhat more
" prophet-like " than the great oracle of the North. In noticing
tlie Elegy on Newstead Abbey, the writer says, " We could
not but hail, with something of prophetic rapture, the hope
conveyed in the closing stanza : —

" Haply thy sun, emerging, yet may shine,

Thee to irradiate with meridian ray," &c. &c.

•f- The first number of a monthly publication called " The
Satirist," in which there appeared afterwards some low and
personal attacks upon him.

1808.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 177

Mr. Dallas,— the author of some novels, popular, I
believe, in their day, and also of a sort of Memoir
of the noble Poet, published soon after his death,
which, from being founded chiefly on original cor-
respondence, is the most authentic and trust-worthy
of any that have yet appeared. In the letters ad-
dressed by Lord Byron to this gentleman, among
many details, curious in a literary point of view, we
find, what is much more important for our present
purpose, some particulars illustrative of the opinions
which he had formed, at this time of his life, on the
two subjects most connected with the early formation
of character — morals and religion.

It is but rarely that infidelity or scepticism finds
an entrance into youthful minds. That readiness to
take the future upon trust, which is the charm of this
period of life, would naturally, indeed, make it the
season of belief as well as of hope. There are also
then, still fresh in the mind, the impressions of early
religious culture, which, even in those who begin
soonest to question their faith, give way but slowly
to the encroachments of doubt, and, in the mean
time, extend the benefit of their moral restraint
over a portion of life when it is acknowledged such
restraints are most necessary. If exemption from
the checks of religion be, as infidels themselves
allow *, a state of freedom from responsibility dan-

* " Look out for a people entirely destitute of religion : if
you find them at all, be assured that they are but few degrees
removed from brutes." — Hume.

The reader will find this avowal of Hume turned eloquently
to the advantage of religion in a Collection of Sermons,

VOL. I. N

l^S NOTICES OF THE 1803.

o-erous at all times, it must be peculiarly so in that
season of temptation, youth, when the passions are
sufficiently disposed to usurp a latitude for them-
selves, without taking a licence also from infidelity
to enlarge their range. It is, therefore, fortunate
that, for the causes just stated, the inroads of scep-
ticism and disbelief should be seldom felt in the
mind till a period of life when the character, already
formed, is out of the reach of their disturbing influ-
ence, — when, being the result, however erroneous,
of thought and reasoning, they are likely to par-
take of the sobriety of the process by which they
were acquired, and, being considered but as mat-
ters of pure speculation, to have as little share in
determining the mind towards evil as, too often,
the most orthodox creed has, at the same age, in
influencing it towards good.

While, in this manner, the moral qualities of the
unbeliever himself are guarded from some of the mis-
chiefs that might, at an earlier age, attend such doc-
trines, the danger also of his communicating the
infection to others is, for reasons of a similar nature,
considerably diminished. The same vanity or daring
which may have prompted the youthful sceptic's opi-
nions, will lead him likewise, it is probable, rashly
and irreverently to avow them, without regard either
to the effect of his example on those around him, or
to the odium which, by such an avowal,he entails irre-

cntitled, " The Connexion of Christianity with Human Hap-
piness," written by one of Lord Byron's earliest and most
valued friends, the Rev. William Harness

1808. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 179

parably on himself. But, at a riper age, these con-
sequences are, in general, more cautiously weighed.
The infidel, if at all considerate of the happiness of
others, will naturally pause before he chases from
their hearts a hope of which his own feels the want so
desolately. If regardful only of himself, he will no
less naturally shrink from the promulgation of
opinions which, in no age, have men uttered with
impunity. In either case there is a tolerably good
security for his silence ; — for, should benevolence
not restrain him from making converts of others,
prudence may, at least, prevent him from making a
martyr of himself.

Unfortunately, Lord Byron was an exception to
the usual course of such lapses. With him, the canker
showed itself " in the morn and dew of youth," when
the effect of such " blastments" is, for every reason,
most fatal, — and, in addition to the real misfortune
of being an unbeliever at any age, he exhibited the
rare and melancholy spectacle of an unbelieving
schoolboy. The same prematurity of developement
which brought his passions and genius so early into
action, enabled him also to anticipate this worst,
dreariest result of reason ; and at the very time of
life when a spirit and temperament like his most re-
quired control, those checks, which religious pre-
possessions best supply, were almost wholly wanting.

We have seen, in those two Addresses to the Deity
which I have selected from among his unpublished
poems, and still more strongly In a passage of the
Catalogue of his studies, at what a boyish age the
authority of all systems and sects was avowedly

N 2

180 NOTICES OF THE

1808.

shaken off by his enquiring spirit. Yet, even in these,
there is a fervour of adoration mingled with his de-
fiance of creeds, through which the piety implanted
in his nature (as it is deeply in all poetic natures)
unequivocally shows itself; and had he then fallen
within the reach of such guidance and example as
would have seconded and fostered these natural dis-
positions, the licence of opinion into which he after-
wards broke loose might have been averted. His
scepticism, if not wholly removed, might have been
softened down into that humble doubt, which, so far
from being inconsistent with a religious spirit, is,
perhaps, its best guard against presumption and un-
charitableness ; and, at all events, even if his own
views of religion had not been brightened or elevated,
he would have learned not wantonly to cloud or dis-
turb those of others. But there was no such monitor
near him. After his departure from Southwell, he
had not a single friend or relative to whom he could
look up with respect ; but was thrown alone on the
world, with his passions and his pride, to revel in the
fatal discovery which he imagined himself to have
made of the nothingness of the future, and the all-
paramount claims of the present. By singular ill
fortune, too, the individual who, among all his college
friends, had tal-:en the strongest hold on his admir-
ation and affection, and whose loss he afterwards
lamented with brotherly tenderness, was, to the same
extent as himself, if not more strongly, a sceptic.
Of this remarkable young man, Matthews, who was
so early snatched away, and whose career in after-
life, had it been at all answerable to the extraordi-

1803.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 181

nary promise of his youtli, must have placed him
upon a level with the first men of his day, a Memoir
was, at one time, intended to be published by his
relatives; and to Lord Byron, among others of his
college friends, application, for assistance in the
task, was addressed. The letter which this circum-
stance drew forth from the noble poet, besides con-
taining many amusing traits of his friend, affords
such an insight into his own habits of life at this
period, that, though infringing upon the chronologi-
cal order of his correspondence, I shall insert it here.

Letter, 19. TO MR. MURRAY.

" Ravenna, 9bre 12. 1820.

" What you said of the late Charles Skinner
Matthews has set me to my recollections ; but I
have not been able to turn up any thing which would
do for the purposed Memoir of his brother, — even
if he had previously done enough during his life to
sanction the introduction of anecdotes so merely
personal. He was, however, a veiy extraordinary
man, and would have been a great one. No one
ever succeeded in a more surpassing degree than he
did, as far as he went. He was indolent, too ; but
whenever he stripped, he overthrew all antagonists.
His conquests will be found registered at Cam-
bridge, particulai'ly his Downing one, which was
hotly and highly contested, and yet easily won.
Hobhouse was his most intimate friend, and can tell
you more of him than any man. William Bankes
also a great deal. I myself recollect more of his
oddities than of his academical qualities, for we

N 3

182 NOTICES OF THE 1808,

lived most together at a very idle period of nvj life.
When I went up to Trinity, in 1805, at the age of
seventeen and a half, I was miserable and untoward
to a degree. I was wretched at leaving Harrow, to
which I had become attached during the two last
years of my stay there ; wretched at going to Cam-
bridge instead of Oxford (there were no rooms
vacant at Christ-church) ; wretched from some private
domestic circumstances of different kinds, and con-
sequently about as unsocial as a wolf taken from the
troop. So that, although I knew Matthews, and met
him often then at Bankes's, (who was my collegiate
pastor, and master, and patron,) and at Rhode's,
Milnes's, Price's, Dick's, Macnamara's, Farrell's,
Galley Knight's, and others of that set of contem-
poraries, yet I was neither intimate with him nor
with any one else, except my old schoolfellow
Edward Long (with whom I used to pass the day in
riding and swimming), and William Bankes, who was
good-naturedly tolerant of my ferocities.

" It was not till 1807, after I had been upwards of
a year away from Cambridge, to which I had re-
turned again to reside for my degree, that I became
one of Matthews's familiars, by means of H * *, who,
after hating me for two years, because I wore a
xvliite hat, and a fjrey coat, and rode a grey horse
(as he says himself), took me into his good graces
because I had written some poetry. I had always
lived a good deal, and got drunk occasionally, in
their company — but now we became really friends
in a morning. Matthews, however, was not at this
period resident in College. I met him chiefly in

1808. LIFE OF LORD BYRON-. 183

London, and at uncertain periods at Cambridge.
H * *, in the mean time, did great tilings : he
fomided the Cambridge ' Whig Club' (which he
seems to have forgotten), and the ' Amicable
Society,' which was dissolved in consequence of the
members constantly quarrelling, and made himself
very popular with ' us youth,' and no less formi-
dable to all tutors, professors, and beads of Colleges.
William B * * was gone ; while he stayed, he ruled
the roast — or rather the roasting — and was father
of all mischiefs.

" Matthews and I, meeting in London, and else-
where, became great cronies. He was not good
tempered — nor am I — but with a little tact his
temper was manageable, and I thought him so
superior a man, that I was willing to sacrifice some-
thing to his humours, which were often, at the same
time, amusing and provoking. What became of his
papers (and he certainly had many), at the time of
his death, was never known. I mention this by the
way, fearing to skip it over, and as he tvrote remai'k-
ably well, both in Latin and English. We went
down to Newstead together, where 1 had got a famous
cellar, and Monks dresses from a masquerade ware-
house. We were a company of some seven or eight,
with an occasional neighbour or so for visiters, and
used to sit up late in our friars' dresses, drinking
burgundy, claret, champagne, and what not, out of
the skull-cup, and all sorts of glasses, and buffooning
all round the house, in our conventual garments.
Matthews alw^ays denominated me ' the Abbot,' and
never called me by any other name in his good

N I-

184- NOTICES OF THE 1808,

humours, to the day of his death. The harmony of
these our symposia was somewhat interrupted, a few
days after our assembling, by ISIatthews's threatening
to throw * * out of a ivuidow, in consequence of 1
know not what commerce of jokes ending in this
epigram. * * came to me and said, that ' his respect
and regard for me as host woukl not permit him to
call out any of my guests, and that he should go to
town next morning.' He did. It was in vain that
I represented to him that the window was not high,
and tliat the turf under it was particularly soft.
Away he went.

•' Matthews and myself had travelled down from
London together, talking all the way incessantly
upon one single topic. When we got to Lough-
borough, I know not what chasm had made us
diverge for a moment to some other subject, at
which he was indignant. ' Come, ' said he, ' don't
let us break through — let us go on as we began, to
our journey's end;' and so he continued, and was as
entertaining as ever to the very end. He had
previously occupied, during my year's absence from
Cambridge, my rooms in Trinity, with the furniture ;
and Jones, the tutor, in his odd way, had said, on
putting him in, ' Mr. Matthews, I recommend to
your attention not to damage any of the movables,
for Lord Byron, Sir, is a young man of tumultuous
passions.' Matthews was delighted with this ; and
whenever anybody came to visit him, begged them
to handle the very door with caution ; and used to
repeat Jones's admonition in his tone and manner.
There was a large mirror in the room, on which he

UC8. LIFE OF LORD KYRON. 185

remarked, ' that he thought liis friends were grown
uncommonly assiduous in coming to see him, but he
soon discovered that they only came to see themselves'
Jones's phrase oi ^ tumultuous passions,' and the whole
scene, had put him into such good humour, that I
verily believe that I owed to it a portion of his good
graces.

"When at Newstead, somebody by accident rubbed
against one of his white silk stockings, one day be-
fore dinner ; of course the gentleman apologised.
' Sir,' answered Matthews, ' it may be all very well
for you, who have a great many silk stockings, to
dirty other people's ; but to me, who have only this
one pair, which I have put on in honour of the Abbot
here, no apology can compensate for such careless-
ness ; besides, the expense of washing.' He had the
same sort of droll sardonic way about every thing.
A wild Irishman, named F * *, one evening begin-
ning to say something at a large supper at Cambridge,
Matthews roared out ' Silence !' and then, pointing
to F * *, cried out, in the words of the oracle, ' Orson
is endoioed with reason.' You may easily suppose
that Orson lost what reason he had acquired, on
hearing this compliment. When H * * published his
volume of poems, the Miscellany (which Matthews
would call the ' 3Iiss-sell-ani/'), all that could be
drawn from him was, tliat the preface was 'extremely
like Walsh.' H ** thought this at first a compli-
ment ; but we never could make out what it was *,

* The only thing remarkable about Walsh's preface is, that
Dr. Johnson praises it as " very judicious," but is, at tlie
same time, silent respecting the poems to which it is prefixed.

186 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

for all we know of Walsh is his Ode to King William,
and Pope's epithet of ' knowhig Walsh.' When the
Newstead party broke up for London, H * * and
Matthews, who were the greatest friends possible,
agreed, for a whim, to walk together to town. They
quarrelled by the way, and actually walked the
latter half of their journey, occasionally passing and
repassing, without speaking. When Matthews had
got to Highgate, he had spent all his money but
three-pence halfpenn}', and determined to spend
that also in a pint of beer, which I believe he was
drinking before a public-house, as H * * passed him
(still without speaking) for the last time on their
route. They were reconciled in London again.

" One of Matthews's passions was ' the Fancy;*
and he sparred uncommonly well. But he always got
beaten in rows, or combats with the bare fist. In
swimming, too, he swam well ; but with effort and
labour, and too high out of the water ; so that Scrope
Davies and myself, of whom he was therein some-
what emulous, always told him that he would be
drowned if ever he came to a difficult pass in the
water. He was so ; but surely Scrope and myself
would have been most heartily glad that

" ' the Dean had lived,
And our prediction proved a lie.'

" His head was uncommonly handsome, very like
what Popes was in his youth.

" His voice, and laugh, and features, are strongly
resembled by his brother Henry's, if Henry be he of
Kings College. His passion for boxing was so great,

1808. LIFE OF LORD BVROX. 187

that he actually wanted me to match him with Dog-
herty (whom I had backed and made the match tor
against Tom Belcher), and I saw them spar together
at my own lodgings with the gloves on. As he was
bent upon it, I would have backed Dogherty to please
him, but the match went off. It was of course to
have been a private fight, in a private room.

" On one occasion, being too late to go home and
dress, he was equipped by a friend (Mr. Baillie, I
believe,) in a magnificently fashionable and somewhat
exaggerated shirt and neckcloth. He proceeded
to the Opera, and took his station in Fops' Alley.
During the interval between the opera and the
ballet, an acquaintance took his station by him and
saluted him: ' Come round,' said Matthews, ' come
round.' — 'Why should I come round?' said the other ;
'you have only to turn your head — I am close by you.'
— ' That is exactly what I cannot do,' said Matthews;
' don't you see the state I am in?' pointing to his
buckram shirt collar and inflexible cravat, — and
there he stood with his head always in the same
perpendicular position during the whole spectacle.

" One evening, after dining together, as we were
going to the Opera, I happened to have a spare
Opera ticket (as subscriber to a box), and pre-
sented it to Matthews. ' Now, sir,' said he to
Hobhouse afterwards, ' this I call courteous in the
Abbot — another man would never have thought
that I might do better with half a guinea than throw
it to a door-keeper ; — but here is a man not only
asks me to dinner, but gives me a ticket for the
theatre.' These were only his oddities, for no man

183 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

was more liberal, or more honourable in all his
doings and dealings, than Matthews. He gave Hob-
house and me, before we set out for Constantinople,
a most splendid entertainment, to which we did
ample justice. One of his fancies was dining at all
sorts of out-of-the-way places. Somebody popped
upon him in I know not what coffee-house in the
Strand — and what do you think was the attraction ?
Why, that he paid a shilling (I think) to dijie toith
his hat on. This he called his ' hat house,' and
used to boast of the comfort of being covered at
meal-times.

" When Sir Henry Smith was expelled from
Cambridge for a row with a tradesman named
' Hiron,' Matthews solaced himself Avith shouting
under Hiron's windows every evening,

" ' Ah me ! what perils do environ

The man who meddles with hot Iliroii.^

" He was also of that band of profane scoffers
who, under the auspices of * * * *, used to rouse
Lort Mansel (late Bishop of Bristol) from his slum-
bers in the lodge of Trinity ; and when he appeared
at the window foaming with wrath, and crying out,
' I know you, gentlemen, I know you ! ' were wont
to reply, ' We beseech thee to hear us, good Lort'
— 'Good Lort deliver us ! ' (Lort was his Christian
name.) As he was very free in his speculations
upon all kinds of subjects, although by no means
either dissolute or intemperate in his conduct, and
as I was no less independent, our conversation and
correspondence used to alarm our friend Hobhouse
to a considerable degree.

1808. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 183

*' You must be almost tired of my packets, which
will have cost a mint of postage.

" Salute Gifford and all my friends.

" Yours, &c."

As already, before his acquaintance with Mr.
Matthews commenced. Lord Byron had begun to
bewilder himself In the mazes of scepticism, it
would be unjust to Impute to this gentleman any
further share in the formation of his noble friend's
opinions than what arose from the natural influence
of example and sympathy ; — an Influence which, as
It was felt perhaps equally on both sides, rendered
the contagion of their doctrines, in a great measure,
reciprocal. In addition, too, to this community of
sentiment on such subjects, they were both, In no
ordinary degree, possessed by that dangerous spirit
of ridicule, whose Impulses even the pious cannot
always restrain, and which draws the mind on, by a
sort of irresistible fascination, to disport itself most
wantonly on the brink of all that is most solemn and
awful. It is not wonderful, therefore, that, In such
society, the opinions of the noble poet should have
been, at least, accelerated In that direction to
which their bias already leaned ; and though he
cannot be said to have become thus confirmed In
these doctrines, — as neither now, nor at any time
of his life, was he a confirmed unbeliever, — he had
undoubtedly learned to feel less uneasy under his
scepticism, and even to mingle somewhat of boast
and of levity with his expression of it. At the very
first onset of his correspondence with Mr. Dallas,

190 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

we find him proclaiming his sentiments on all such
subjects with a flippancy and confidence far different
from the tone in which he had first ventured on his
doubts, — from that fervid sadness, as of a heart
loth to part with its illusions, which breathes through
every line of those prayers, that, but a year before,
his pen had traced.

Here again, however, we should recollect, there
must be a considerable share of allowance for his
usual tendency to make the most and the worst of
his own obliquities. There occurs, indeed, in his
first letter to Mr. Dallas, an instance of this strange
ambition, — the very reverse, it must be allowed, of
hj'pocrisy, — which led him to court, rather than
avoid, the reputation of profligacy, and to put, at all
times, the worst face on his own character and con-
duct. His new correspondent having, in introducing
himself to his acquaintance, passed some compli-
ments on the tone of moral and charitable feeling
which breathed through one of his poems, had
added, that it " brought to his mind another noble
author, who was not only a fine poet, orator, and
historian, but one of the closest reasoners we have
on the truth of that religion of which forgiveness is a
prominent principle, the great and good Lord Lyttle-
ton, whose fame will never die. His son," adds Mr.
Dallas, " to whom he had transmitted genius, but
not virtue, spai'kled for a moment and went out like
a star, — and v/ith him the title became extinct."
To this Lord Byron answers in the following
letter: —

1808.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 191

Letter 20. TO MR. DALLAS.

« Dorant's Hotel, Albemarle Street, Jan. 20. 1 SOS.
" Sir,

" Your letter was not received till this morning,
I presume from being addressed to me in Notts.,
where I have not resided since last June, and as the
date is the 6th, you will excuse the delay of my
answer.

" If the little volume you mention has given plea-
sure to the author of Fercival and Aubrey, I am
sufficiently repaid by his praise. Though our pe-
riodical censors have been uncommonly lenient, 1
confess a tribute from a man of acknowledged genius
is still more flattering. But I am afraid I should
forfeit all claim to candour, if I did not decline such
praise as I do not deserve ; and this is, I am sorry
to say, the case in the present instance.

" My compositions speak for themselves, and must
stand or fall by their own worth or demerit : thus far
I feel highly gratified by your favourable opinion.
But my pretensions to virtue are unluckily so few,
that though I should be happy to merit, I cannot
accept, your applause in that respect. One passage
in your letter struck me forcibly: you mention the
two Lords Lyttleton in a manner they respectively
deserve, and will be surprised to hear the person
who is now addressing you has been frequently
compared to the latter. I know I am injuring myself
in your esteem by this avowal, but the circumstance
was so remarkable from your observation, that I
cannot help relating the fact. The events of my
short life have been of so singular a nature, that,

192 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

though the pride commonly called honour has, and
1 trust ever will, prevent me from disgracing my
name by a mean or cowardly action, I have been
already held up as the votary of licentiousness, and
the disciple of infidelity. How far justice may have
dictated this accusation, I cannot pretend to say; but,
like the gentleman to whom my religious friends, in
the warmth of their charity, have already devoted
me, I am made worse than 1 really am. However,
to quit myself (the worst theme I could pitch upon),
and return to my poems, I cannot sufficiently express
my thanks, and I hope I shall some day have an
opportunity of rendering them in person. A second
edition is now in the press, with some additions and
considerable omissions ; you will allow me to present
you with a copy. The Critical, Monthly, and Anti-
Jacobin Reviews have been ver}^ indulgent ; but the
Eclectic has pronounced a furious Philippic, not
against the book but the author, where you will find
all I have mentioned asserted by a reverend divine
who wrote the critique.

Your name and connection with our family have
been long known to me, and I hope your person will
be not less so : you will find me an excellent com-
pound of a ' Brainless ' and a ' Stanhope.' * I am
afraid you will hardly be able to read this, for my
hand is almost as bad as my character ; but you will
find me, as legibly as possible,

" Your obliged and obedient servant,

" Byron."

* Characters in the novel called Peraval.

1808. LIFE OF LOUD BYRON. 19S

There is here, evident! 3^ a degree of pride in being
thought to resemble the wicked Lord Ly ttleton ; and,
lest his known irregularities should not bear him out
in the pretension, he refers mysteriously, as was his
habit, to certain untold events of his life, to warrant
the pai-allel.* Mr. Dallas, who seems to have been
but little prepared for such a reception of his com-
pliments, escapes out of the difficulty by transferring
to the young lord's " candour " the praise he had so
thanklessly bestowed on his morals in general ;
adding, that from the design Lord Byron had ex-
pressed in his preface of resigning the service of the
Muses for a different vocation, he had " conceived
him bent on pursuits which lead to the character of
a legislator and statesman ; — had imagined him at
one of the universities, training himself to habits
of reasoning and eloquence, and storing up a large
fimd of history and law." It is in reply to this letter
that the exposition of the noble poet's opinions, to
which I have above alluded, is contained.

Letter 21. TO MR. DALLAS.

" Dorant's, January 21. 1808.

" Sir,

" Whenever leisure and inclination permit me

the pleasure of a visit, I shall feel truly gratified in

a personal acquaintance with one whose mind has

been long known to me in his writings.

• This appeal to the imagination of his correspondent was
not altogether without effect. — "I considered," says Mn
Dallas, " these letters, thovgh evidently groiintled on some oc-
currences in the still earlier part of Ms life, rather n'ijeux d' esprit
than as a true portrait."

VOL. I. O

191' NOTICES OF THE 1808.

" You are so far correct in your conjecture, that I
am a member of the University of Cambridge, where
I shall take my degree of A. M. this term ; but
were reasoning, eloquence, or virtue, the objects of
my search, Granta is not their metropolis, nor is the
place of her situation an ' El Dorado,' far less an
Utopia. The intellects of her children are as stag-
nant as her Cam, and their pursuits limited to the
church — not of Christ, but of the nearest benefice.

" As to my reading, I believe I may aver, without
hyperbole, it has been tolerably extensive in the
historical ; so that few nations exist, or have ex-
isted, with whose records I am not in some degree
acquainted, from Herodotus down to Gibbon. Of
the classics, I know about as much as most school-
boys after a discipline of thirteen years ; of the law
of the land as much as enables me to keep ' within
the statute ' — to use the poacher's vocabulary. I did
study the ' Spirit of Laws ' and the Law of Nations ;
but when I saw the latter violated every month, I
gave up my attempts at so useless an accomplish-
ment ; — of geography, I have seen more land on
maps than I should wish to traverse on foot ; — of
mathematics, enough to give me the headach
without clearing the part affected ; — of philosophy,
astronomy, and metaphysics, more than I can com-
prehend * ; and of common sense so little, that I

* He appears to have had in his memory Voltaire's lively
account of Zadig's learning : " 11 savait de la metaphysiqiie
ce qu'on en a su dans tous les ages, — c'est a dire, fort peu tie
chose," &c.

1S08. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 195

mean to leave a Byronian prize at each of our ' Al-
mae Matres ' for the first discovery, — though I rather
fear that of the longitude will precede iU

" I once thought myself a philosopher, and talked
nonsense with great decorum : I defied pain, and
preached up equanimity. For some time this did
very well, for no one was in pain for me but my
friends, and none lost their patience but my hearers.
At last, a fall from my horse convinced me bodily
suffering was an evil ; and the worst of an argument
overset my maxims and my temper at the same
moment : so I quitted Zeno for Aristippus, and con-
ceive that pleasure constitutes the to vcaXov. I hold
virtue, in general, or the virtues severally, to be
only in the disposition, each a feeling, not a prin-
ciple.* I believe truth the prime attribute of the
Deity, and death an eternal sleep, at least of the
body. You have here a brief compendium of the
sentiments of the wicked George Lord Byron ; and,
till I get a new suit, you will perceive 1 am badly
clothed. I remain," &c.

Though such was, doubtless, the general cast of his
opinions at this time, it must be recollected, before
we attach any particular importance to the details of
his creed, that, in addition to the temptation, never
easily resisted by him, of displaying his wit at the
expense of his character, he was here addressing

* The doctrine of Ilume, who resolves all virtue into senti-
ment. — See his " Enquiry concerning the Principles of
Morals."

o 2

196 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

a person who, though, no doubt, well meaning, was
evidently one of those officious, self-satisfied advisers,
whom it was the delight of Lord Byron at all times
to astonish and inystify. The tricks which, v/hen
a boy, he played upon the Nottingham quack, La-
vender, were but the first of a long series with which,
through life, he amused himself, at the expense of
all the numerous quacks whom his celebrity and
sociability drew around him.

The terms in which he speaks of the university
in this letter agree in spirit with many passages both
in the " Hours of Idleness," and his early Satire, and
}>rove that, while Harrow was remembered by him
with more affection, perhaps, than respect, Cambridge
had not been able to inspire him with either. This
feeling of distaste to his " nui'sing mother" he enter-
tained in common with some of the most illustrious
names of English literature. So great was Milton's
hatred to Cambridge, that he had even conceived,
says Warton, a dislike to the face of the country, —
to the fields in its neighbourhood. The poet Gray
thus speaks of the same university : — " Surely, it
was of this place, now Cambridge, but formerly
known by the name of Babylon, that the prophet
spoke when he said, ' The wild beasts of the deserts
shall dwell there, and their houses shall be full of
doleful creatures, and owls shall build there, and
satyrs shall dance there,' " Sec. Sec. The bitter re-
collections which Gibbon retained of Oxford, his
o\vn pen has recorded ; and the cool contempt by
which Locke avenged himself on the bigotry of

ISOS LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 197

the same seat of learning is even still more me-
morable.*

In poets, such distasteful recollections of their
collegiate life may well be thought to have their
origin in that antipathy to the trammels of discipline,
Avhich is not unusually observable among the cha-
racteristics of genius, and which might be regarded,
indeed, as a sort of instinct, implanted in it for its
own preservation, if there be any truth in the opinion
that a course of learned education is hurtful to the
freshness and elasticity of the imaginative faculty.
A right reverend writer f , but little to be suspected
of any desire to depreciate academical studies, not
only puts the question, " Whether the usual forms
of learning be not rather injurious to the true poet,
than really assisting to him ? " but appears strongly
disposed to answer it in the affirmative, — giving, as
an instance, in favour of this conclusion, the classic
Addison, who, " as appears," he says, " from some
original efforts in the sublime, allegorical way, had
no want of natural talents for the gi-eater poetry, —
which yet were so restrained and disabled by his
constant and superstitious study of the old classics,
that he was, in fact, but a very ordinary poet."

It was, no doubt, under some such impression of
the malign influence of a collegiate atmosphere upon
genius, that Milton, in speaking of Cambridge, gave

* See bis Lutter to Anthony Collins, 1703-4, where he
speaks of " those sliarp ht-ads, which were for damning his
book, because of its discouraging the staple conmiodity of iLe
place, which in his time was called hogs' shearing."

t Il-.nd, " Discourses on Poetical Imitation."

O 3

19S KOTICES OF THE 180S.

vent to the exclamation, that it was " a place quite
incompatible with the votaries of Phoebus," and that
Lord Byron, versifying a thought of his own, in the
letter to Mr. Dallas just given, declares,

" Her Helicon is duller than her Cam."

The poet Dryden, too, who, like Milton, had in-
curred some mark of disgrace at Cambridge, seems
to have entertained but little more veneration for his
Alma Mater ; and the verses in which he has praised
Oxford at the expense of his own university * were,
it is probable, dictated much less by admiration of
the one than by a desire to spite and depreciate the
other.

Nor is it genius only that thus rebels against the
discipline of the schools. Even the tamer quality
of Taste, which it is the professed object of classi-
cal studies to cultivate, is sometimes found to turn
restive under the pedantic manege to which it is
subjected. It was not till released from the duty of
reading Virgil as a task, that Gray could feel him-
self capable of enjoying the beauties of that poet ;
and Lord Byron was, to the last, unable to van-
quish a similar prepossession, with which the same
sort of school association had inoculated him, against
Horace.

" Though Time hath taught

My mind to meditate what then it learn'd,
Yet such the fix'd inveteracy wrought
By the impatience of my early thought,
That, with the freshness wearing out before
My mind could relish what it might have sought,
If free to choose, I cannot now restore
Its health ; but what it then detested, still abhor.

* Prologue to the University of Oxford.

180S.

LIFE OF LORD BYKON. 199

" Then farewell, Horace ; whom I hated so,
Not for thy faults, but mine ; it is a curse
To understand, not feel thy lyric flow.
To comprehend, but never love thy verse."

Childe Hauold, canto IV.

To the list of eminent poets, who have thus left
on record their disUke and disapproval of the En-
glish system of education, are to be added, the dis-
tinguished names of Cowley, Addison, and Cowper;
while, among the cases which, like those of Milton
and Dryden, practically demonstrate the sort of in-
verse ratio that may exist between college honours
and genius, must not be forgotten those of Swift,
Goldsmith, and Churchill, to every one of whom
some mark of incompetency was affixed by the re-
spective universities, whose annals they adorn.
When, in addition, too, to this rather ample catalogue
of poets, whom the universities have sent forth
either disloyal or dishonoured, we come to number
over such names as those of Shakspeare and of
Pope, followed by Gay, Thomson, Burns, Chatter-
ton, <!v:c., all of whom have attained their respective
stations of eminence, without instruction or sanction
from any college whatever, it forms altogether, it
must be owned, a large portion of the poetical
world, that must be subducted from the sphere of
that nursing influence which the universities are sup-
posed to exercise over the genius of the country.

The following letters, written at this time, con-
tain some particulars which will not be found unin-

terestmg.

o 4

200 KOTICES OF THE I80S.

Lktter 22. TO MR. HENRY DRURY.

" Doiant's Hotel, Jan. l?j. 180S.
" My dear Sir,

" Though the stupidity of my servants, or the
porter of the house, in not sliowing you up stnirs
(where I should have joined you directly), prevent-
ed me the pleasure of seeing you yesterday, I hoped
to meet you at some public place in the evening.
However, my stars decreed otherwise, as they gen-
erally do, when I have any favour to request of
them. I think you would have been surprised at
my figure, for, since our last meeting, I am reduced
four stone in weight. I then weighed fourteen
stone seven pound, and now only toi stone a?id a
half. I have disposed of my sitperjluities by means
of hard exercise and abstinence.

" Should your Harrow engagements allow you to
visit town between this and February, I shall be
most happy to see you in Albemarle Street. If I am
not so fortunate, I shall endeavour to join you for
an afternoon at Harrow, though, I fear, your cellar
will by no means contribute to my cure. As for my
worthy preceptor, Dr. B., our encounter would by
no means prevent the mutual endearments he and I
were wont to lavish on each other. We have only
spoken once since my departure from Harrow in
1805, and then he politely told Tatersall I was not a
proper associate for his pupils. This was long before
my strictures in verse ; but, in plain prose, had I been
some years older, I should have held my tongue on
his perfections. But, being laid on my back, when
that schoolboy thing was written — or rather die-

JS08. DFE OF LORD BYRON. 201

tated — expecting to rise no more, my physician
having taken liis sixteenth fee, and I his prescrip-
tion, I could not quit this earth without leaving a
memento of my constant attachment to Butler in
gratitude for his manifold good offices.

" I meant to have been down in July ; but think-
ing my appearance, immediately after the publi-
cation, would be construed into an insult, I directed
my steps elsewhere. Besides, I heard that some of
the boys had got hold of my Libellus, contrary to
my wishes certainly, for I never transmitted a single
copy till October, when I gave one to a boy, since
gone, after repeated importunities. You will, I
trust, pardon this egotism. As you had touched on
the subject I thought some explanation necessary.
Defence I shall not attempt, ' Hie murus aheneus
esto, nil conscire sibi ' — and ' so on ' (as Lord Bal-
timore said on his trial for a rape) — I have been so
long at Trinity as to forget the conclusion of the
line ; but though I cannot finish my quotation, I
will my letter, and entreat you to believe me, grate-
fully and alfectionately, dc.

" P. S. I will not lay a tax on your time by re-
quiring an answer, lest you say, as Butler said to
Tatersall (when 1 had written his reverence an im-
pudent epistle on the expression before mentioned),
viz. 'that I wanted to draw him into a correspond-
ence.'"

202 KOTICES OF THE 1808.

Letter 23. TO MR. HARNESS.

" Dorant's Hotel, Albemarle Street, Feb. 11. 1808.
" My dear Harness,

"As I had no opportunity of returning my
verbal thanks, 1 trust you will accept my written
acknowledgments for the compliment you were
pleased to pay some production of my unlucky muse
last November, — I am induced to do this not less
from the pleasure I feel in the praise of an old
schoolfellow, than from justice to you, for I had
heard the story with some slight variations. Indeed,
when we met this morning, Wingfield had not un-
deceived me, but he will tell you that I displayed
no resentment in mentioning what I had heard,
though I was not sorry to discover the truth. Per-
haps you hardly recollect, some years ago, a short,
though, for the time, a warm friendship between us?
Why it was not of longer duration, I know not. I
have still a gift of yours in my possession, that must
always prevent me from forgetting it. I also re-
member being favoured with the perusal of many of
your compositions, and several other circumstances
very pleasant in their day, which I will not force
upon your memory, but entreat you to believe me,
with much regret at their short continuance, and a
hope they are not irrevocable, yours very sin-
cerely, &c.

" BYnoN."

I have already mentioned the early friendship that
subsisted between this gentleman and Lord Byron,
as well as the coolness that succeeded it. The fol-

1S03. LIFE OF LOUD BYROX. 203

lowing extract from a letter with which IMr. Harness
fiivoured me, in placing at my disposal those of his
noble correspondent, will explain the circumstances
that led, at this time, to their reconcilement ; and the
candid tribute, in the concluding sentences, to Lord
Byron, will be found not less honourable to the reve-
rend writer himself than to his friend.

" A coolness afterwards arose, which Byron alludes
to in the first of the accompanjang letters, and we
never spoke during the last year of his remaining at
school, nor till after the publication of his ' Hours of
Idleness.' Lord Byron was then at Cambridge ; I,
in one of the upper forms, at Harrow. In an En-
glish theme I happened to quote from the volume,
and mention it with praise. It was reported to
Byron that I had, on the contrary, spoken slightingly
of his work and of himself, for the purpose of con-
ciliating the favour of Dr. Butler, the master, who
had been severely satirised in one of the poems.
Wingfield, who was afterwards Lord Powerscourt,
a mutual friend of Byron and myself, disabused him
of the error into which he had been led, and this was
the occasion of the first letter of the collection. Our
conversation was renewed and continued from that
time till his going abroad. Whatever faults Lord
Byron might have had towards others, to myself he
was always uniformly affectionate. I have many
sliglits and neglects towards him to reproach myself
with ; but I cannot call to mind a single instance of
caprice or unkindness, in the whole course of our
intimacy, to allege against him."

In the spring of this year (1808) appeared the me-

204) NOTICES OF THE 180S.

morable critique upon the " Hours of Idleness "in the
Edinburgh Review. That he had some notice of
what was to be expected from that quarter, appears
by the following letter to his friend, Mr. Becher.

Letteii 24. TO MR. BECHER.

" Doiant's Hotel, Feb. 26. 1803.

" My dear Becher,

" Now for Apollo. I am happy that you still
retain your predilection, and that the public allow
me some share of praise. I am of so much import-
ance, that a most violent attack is preparing for me
in the next number of the Edinburgh Review. This
I had from the authority of a friend who has seen the
proof and manuscript of the critique. You know the
system of the Edinburgh gentlemen is universal
attack. They praise none ; and neither the public
nor the author expects praise from them. It is, how-
ever, something to be noticed, as they profess to
pass judgment only on works requiring the public
attention. You will see this when it comes out ; —
it is, I understand, of the most unmerciful descrip-
tion ; but I am aware of it, and hope you will not be
hurt by its severity.

" Tell Mrs. Byron not to be out of humour with
them, and to prepare her mind for the greatest hos-
tility on their part. It will do no injury whatever,
and I trust her mind will not be ruffled. They de-
feat their object by indiscriminate abuse, and they
never praise except the partisans of Lord Holland
and Co. It is nothing to be abused when Southey,

1SC8. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 205

Moore, Lauderdale, Strangford, and Payne Knight,
share the same fate.

"I am sorry — but ' Childish Recollections' must
be suppressed during this edition. I have altered,
at your suggestion, the obnoxious allusio7is in the
sixth stanza of my last ode.

•' And now, my dear Becher, I must return my best
acknowledgments for the interest you have taken in
me and my poetical bantlings, and I shall ever be
proud to show how much I esteem the advice and
the adviser. Believe me, most truly," &c.

Soon after this letter appeared the dreaded article,
— an article which, if not " witty in itself," deserved
eminently the credit of causing "wit in others." Sel-
dom, indeed, has it ftillen to the lot of the justest
criticism to attain celebrity such as injustice has pro-
cured for this ; nor as long as the short, but glorious
race of Byron's genius is remembered, can the critic,
whoever he may be, that so unintentionally minis-
tered to its first start, be forgotten.

It is but justice, however, to remark, — without at
the same time intending any excuse for the contemp-
tuous tone of criticism assumed by the reviewer, —
that the early verses of Lord Byron, however distin-
guished by tenderness and grace, give but little pro-
mise of those dazzling miracles of poesy with which
he afterwards astonished and enchanted the v/orld ;
and that, if his youthful verses now have a peculiar
charm in our eyes, it is because we read them, as it
were, by the light of his subsequent glory.

There is, indeed, one point of view, in which these

206 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

productions are deeply and intrinsically interesting.
As faithful reflections of his character at that period
of life, they enable us to judge of what he was in his
yet unadulterated state, — before disappointment had
begun to embitter his ardent spirit, or the stirring
up of the energies of his nature had brought into
activity also its defects. Tracing him thus through
these natural effusions of his young genius, we find
him pictured exactly such, in all the features of his
character, as every anecdote of his boyish days
proves him really to have been, proud, daring, and
passionate, — resentful of slight or injustice, but still
more so in the cause of others than in his own ; and
yet, with all this vehemence, docile and placable, at
the least touch of a hand authorised by love to
guide him. The affectionateness, indeed, of his dis-
position, traceable as it is through every page of this
volume, is yet but faintly done justice to, even by
himself; — his whole youth being, from earliest child-
hood, a series of the most passionate attachments,
— of those overflowings of the soul, both in friendship
and love, which are still more rarely responded to
than felt, and which, when checked or sent back
upon the heart, are sure to turn into bitterness.

We have seen also, in some of his early unpub-
lished poems, how apparent, even through the doubts
that already clouded them, are those feelings of piety
which a soul like his could not but possess, and which,
when afterwards diverted out of their legitimate
channel, found a vent in the poetical worship of na-
ture, and in that shadowy substitute for religion which
superstition offers. When, in addition, too, to these

1808. LIFE OF LORD BYKON. 207

traits of early character, we find scattered through
his youthful poems such anticipations of the glory
that awaited him, — such, alternately, proud and
saddened glimpses into the future, as if he already
felt the elements of something great within him, but
doubted whether his destiny would allow him to bring
it forth, — it is not wonderful that, with the whole of
his career present to our imaginations, we should see
a lustre round these first puerile attempts not really
their own, but shed back upon them from the bright
eminence which he afterwards attained ; and that, in
our indignation against the fastidious blindness of the
critic, we should forget that he had not then the aid
of this reflected charm, with which the subsequent
achievements of the poet now irradiate all that bears
his name.

The effect this criticism produced upon him can
only be conceived by those who, besides having an
adequate notion of what most poets would feel under
such an attack, can understand all that there was in
the temper and disposition of Lord Byron to make
him feel it with tenfold more acuteness than others.
We have seen with what feverish anxiety he awaited
the verdicts of all the minor Reviews, and, from his
sensibility to the praise of the meanest of these cen-
sors, may guess how painfully he must have writhed
under the sneers of the highest. A friend, who found
him in the first moments of excitement after reading
the article, enquired anxiously whether he had just
received a challenge ? — not knowing how else to ac-
count for the fierce defiance of his looks. It would,
indeed, be difficult for sculptor or painter to imagine

»208 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

a subject of more fearful beauty than the fine counte-
nance of the young poet must have exhibited in the
collected energy of that crisis. His pride had been
wounded to the quick, and his ambition humbled ; —
but this feeling of humiliation lasted but for a mo-
ment. The very re-action of his spirit against ag-
trression roused him to a full consciousness of his
own powers * ; and the pain and the shame of the
injury were forgotten in the proud certainty of
revenge.

Among- the less sentimental effects of this review
upon his 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 himseU
considerably better." His chief care, indeed, after-
wards, was amiably devoted, — as we have seen it
was, in like manner, before the criticism, — to allay-
inff, as far as he could, the sensitiveness of his
mother ; who, not having the same motive or power
to summon up a spirit of resistance, was, of course,
more lielplessly alive to this attack upon his fame, and
felt it fin- more than, after the first burst of indig-

* " 'Tis a quality very obsei-vable in human nature, that
any opposition wliich does not entirely discourage and intimi-
date us, has rather a contrary cfTect, and inspires us with a
more than ordinary grandeur and magnanimity. In collect-
ing our force to overcome the opposition, we invigorate the
soul, and give it an elevation witli which otherwise it would
never liave been acquainted." — Hume, Treatise of Human
Nature.

1808. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 209

nation, he did himself. But the state of his mind
upon the subject will be best understood from the
following letter.

Letter 25. TO MR. BE CHER.

« Dorant's, March 28. 1808.

" I have lately received a copy of the new edition
from Ridge, and it is high time forme to return my
best thanks to you for the trouble you have taken in
the superintendence. This I do most sincerely, and
only regret that Ridge has not seconded you as I
could wish, — at least, in the bindings, paper, &c., of
the copy he sent to me. Perhaps those for the pub-
lic may be more respectable in such articles.

You have seen the Edinburgh Review, of course.
I regret that Mrs. Byron is so much annoyed. For
my own part, these ' paper bullets of the brain '
have only taught me to stand fire ; and, as I have
been lucky enough upon the whole, my repose and
appetite are not discomposed. Pratt, the gleaner,
author, poet, &c. &c., addressed a long rhyming
epistle to me on the subject, by way of consolation ;
but it Avas not well done, so I do not send it, though
the name of the man might make it go down. The
E. Rs. have not performed their task well ; at least
the literati tell me this ; and I think / could write a
more sarcastic critique on myself than any yet pub-
lished. For instance, instead of the remark, — ill-
natured enough, but not keen, — about Macpherson,
1 (quoad reviewers) could have said, ' Alas, this
imitation only proves the assertion of Dr. Johnson,

VOL. I. p

210 NOTICES OF THE 1S08

that many men, women, and children, could write
sucli poetry as Ossian's.'

" I am thin and in exercise. During tlie spring or
simimer I trust we shall meet. 1 hear Lord Ruthyn
leaves Newstead in April. As soon as he quits it
for ever, I wish much you would take a ride over,
survey the mansion, and give me your candid opinion
on the most advisable mode of proceeding with re-
gard to the house. Entre nous, I am cursedly dipped ;
my debts, every thing inclusive, will be nine or ten
thousand before I am twenty-one. But I have rea-
son to think my property will turn out better than
general expectation may conceive. Of Newstead I
have little hope or care ; but Hanson, my agent, in-
timated my Lancashire property was worth three
Newsteads. I believe we have it hollow ; though
the defendants are protracting the surrender, if
possible, till after my majority, for the purpose of
forming some arrangement with me, thinking I shall
probably prefer a sum in hand to a reversion.
Newstead I may sell ; — perhaps I will not, —
though of that more anon. I will come down in
May or June.

" Yours most truly," &c.

The sort of life which he led at this period between
the dissipations of London and of Cambridge, with-
out a home to welcome, or even the roof of a single
relative to receive him, was but little calculated to
render him satisfied either with himself or the world.
Unrestricted as he was by deference to any will but liis

1808. LIFE OF LORD BYRO>r. 211

own *, even the pleasures to which he was naturally
most mclined prematurely palled upon him, for want
of those best zests of all enjoyment, rarity and
restraint. I have already quoted, from one of his
note-books: a passage descriptive of his feelings on
first going to Cambridge, in which he says that " one
of the deadliest and heaviest feelings of his life was
to feel that he was no longer a boy." — " From that
moment (he adds) I began to grow old in my own
esteem, and in my esteem age is not estimable. I
took my gradations in the vices with great prompti-
tude, but they were not to my taste ; for my early
passions, though violent in the. extreme, were con-
centrated, and hated division or spreading abroad.
I could have left or lost the whole world with, or
for, that which I loved ; but, though my tempera-
ment was naturally burning, I could not share in the
common-place libertinism of the place and time
without disgust. And yet this very disgust, and
my heart thrown back upon itself, threw me into
excesses perhaps more fatal than those from which
I shrunk, as fixing upon one (at a time) the passions
which spread amongst many would have hurt only
myself."

Though, from the causes here alleged, the irregu-
larities he, at this period, gave way to were of a
nature far less gross and miscellaneous than those,
perhaps, of any of his associates, yet, partly from the
vehemence which this concentration caused, and,

* " The colour of our whole life is gcnprally such as the
three or four first years in which we are our own masters
make it." — Cowfek.

p 2

212 XOTICES OF THK 1808.

Still more, from that strange pride in his o\vn errors,
which led him always to bring them forth in the
most conspicuous light, it so happened that one
single indiscretion, in his hands, was made to go
farther, if I may so express it, than a thousand in
those of others. An instance of this, that occurred
about the time of which we are speaking, was, I am
inclined to think, the sole foundation of the mys-
terious allusions just cited. An amour (if it may
be dignified with such a name) of that sort of casual
description which less attachable natures would have
forgotten, and more prudent ones at least concealed,
was by him converted, at this period, and with cir-
cumstances of most unnecessary display, into a con-
nection of some continuance, — the object of it not
only becoming domesticated with him in lodgings at
Brompton, but accompanied him afterwards, dis-
guised in boy's clothes, to Brighton. He introduced
this young person, who used to ride about with him
in her male attire, as his younger brother ; and the
late Lady P**, who was at Brighton at the time,
and had some suspicion of the real nature of the
relationship, said one day to the poet's companion,
" What a pretty horse that is you are riding!" —
" Yes," answered the pretended cavalier, " it was
gave me by my brother ! "

Beattie tells us, of his ideal poet, —

*' The exploits of strength, dexterity, or speed,
To him nor vanity nor joy could bring."

But far different were the tastes of the real poet,
Byron ; and among the least romantic, perhaps, of
the exercises in which he took delisrht was that of

1S08. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 213

boxing or sparring. This taste it was that, at a very
early period, brought him acquainted with the dis-
tinguished professor of that art, Mr. Jackson, for
whom he continued through life to entertain the
sincerest regard, one of his latest works containing a
most cordial tribute not only to the professional, but
social qualities of this sole prop and ornament of
pugilism. * During his stay at Brighton this year,
Jackson was one of his most constant visiters, — the
expense of the professor's chaise thither and back
being always defrayed by his noble patron. He
also honoured with his notice, at this time, D'Egville,
the ballet-master, and Grimaldi; to the latter of whom
he sent, as I understand, on one of his benefit nights,
a present of five guineas.

Having been favoured by Mr. Jackson with copies
of the few notes and letters, which he has preserved
out of the many addressed to him by Lord Byron, I
shall here lay before the reader one or two, which
bear the date of the present year, and which, though
referring to matters of no interest in themselves,
give, perhaps, a better notion of the actual life and
habits of the young poet, at this time, than could be
afforded by the most elaborate and, in other respects,
important correspondence. They will show, at least,
how very little akin to romance Mere the early
pursuits and associates of the author of Childe

* " I refer to my old friend and corporeal pastor and
master, John Jackson, Esq., Professor of Pugilism, who I trust
still retains tlie strength and symmetry of his model of a form,
together with his goodhinnour and athletic, as well as mental,
accomplishments." — Note on Don Juan, Canto II,

214? NOTICES OF THE 1808.

Harold, and, combined with what we know of tlie
still less romantic youth of Shakspeare, prove how
unhurt the vital principle of genius can preserve
itself even in atmospheres apparently the most
ungenial and noxious to it.

Letter 26. TO 3IR. JACKSON.

" N. A., Notts. September 18. 1808.

" Dear Jack,

" I wish you would inform me what has been
done by Jekyll, at No. 4:0. Sloane Square, concerning
the pony I returned as unsound.

" I have also to request you will call on Louch at
Brompton, and enquire what the devil he meant by
sending such an insolent letter to me at Brighton ;
and at the same time tell him I by no means can
comply with the charge he has made for things
pretended to be damaged.

" Ambrose behaved most scandalously about the
pony. You may tell Jekyll if he does not refund
the money, I shall put the aifair into my lawyer's
hands. Five and twenty guineas is a sound price
for a pony, and by , if it costs me five hun-
dred pounds, I will make an example of Mr. Jekyll,
and that immediately, unless the cash is returned.
" Believe me, dear Jack," &c.

Letter 27. TO MR. JACKSON.

" N. A., Notts. October 4. ISOS.

" You will make as good a bargain as possible
with this Master Jekyll, if he is not a gentleman.
If he is a gentlemaii, inform me, for I shall take very

1808. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 215

different steps. If he is not, j^ou must get what you
can of the money, for I have too much business on
Imnd at present to commence an action. Besides,
Ambrose is the man who ought to refund, — but I
have done with him. You can settle with L. out of
the balance, and dispose of the bidets, &c. as 3'ou
best can.

" I should be very glad to see you here ; but the
house is filled with workmen, and undergoing a
thorough repair. I hope, however, to be more for-
tunate before many months have elapsed.

" If you see Bold Webster, remember me to him,
and tell him I have to regret Sydney, who has
perished, I fear, in my rabbit warren, for we have
seen nothing of him for the last fortnight.

" Adieu. — Believe me," &:c.

Letter, 28, TO MR. JACKSON.

« N. A., Notts. December 12. 180R.
" My dear Jack,

" You will get the greyhound from the owner
at any price, and as many more of the same breed
(male or female) as you can collect.

" Tell D'Egville his dress shall be returned — I
am obliged to him for the pattern. I am sorry you
should have so much trouble, but I was not aware of
the difficulty of procuring the animals in question.
I shall have finished part of my mansion in a few
weeks, and, if you can pay me a visit at Christmas,
I shall be very glad to see you.

" Believe me," &c.
p 4.

216 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

The dress alluded to here was, no doubt, wanted
ibr a private play, which he, at tliis time, got up at
Newstead, and of which there are some further par-
ticulars in the annexed letter to Mr. Becher.

Letter 29. TO MR. BECHER.

« Newstead Abbey, Notts. Sept. 14. 1808.
" My dear Becher,

" I am much obliged to you for your enquiries,
and shall profit by them accordingly. I am going
to get up a play here ; the hall will constitute a
most admirable theatre. I have settled the dram,
pers., and can do without ladies, as I have some
young friends who will make tolerable substitutes
for females, and we only want three male characters,
beside Mr. Hobhouse and myself, for the play we
have fixed on, which will be the Revenge. Pray
direct Nicholson the carpenter to come over to me
immediately, and inform me what day you will dine
and pass the night here.

" Believe me," <S:c.

It was in the autumn of this year, as the letters I
have just given indicate, that he, for the first time,
took up his residence at Newstead Abbey. Having
received the place in a most ruinous condition from
the hands of its late occupant. Lord Grey deRuthyn,
he proceeded immediately to repair and fit up some
of the apartments, so as to render them — more
with a view to his mother's accommodation than his
own — comfortably habitable. In one of his letters

ISOS. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 217

to Mrs. Byron, published by Mr. Dallas, he thus
explains his views and intentions on this subject.

Letter 30.

TO THE HONOURABLE* MRS. BYRON.

" Newstead Abbey, Notts. October 7. 1S08.

" Dear Madam,

" I have no beds for the H * * s or any body
else at present. The H * * s sleep at Mansfield.
I do not know, that I resemble Jean Jacques Rous-
seau. I have no ambition to be like so illustrious a
madman — but this I know, that I shall live in my
own manner, and as much alone as possible.
When my rooms are ready I shall be glad to see
you : at present it would be improper and uncom-
fortable to both parties. You can hardly object to
my rendering my mansion habitable, notwithstand-
ing my departure for Persia in March (or May at
farthest), since you will be tenant till my return ;
and in case of any accident (for I have already
arranged my will to be drawn up the moment I am
twenty-one), I have taken care you shall have the
house and manor for life, besides a sufficient income.
So you see my improvements are not entirely self-
ish. As I have a friend here, we will go to the In-
firmary Ball on the 12th ; we will drink tea with Mrs.
Byron at eight o'clock, and expect to see you at the
ball. If that lady will allow us a couple of rooms to
dress in, we shall be highly obliged : — if we are at

* Thus addressed always by Lord Byron, but without any
right to the distinction.

21 S XOTICES OF THE ISOS.

the ball by ten or eleven it will be time enough, and
we shall return to Newstead about three or four.
Adieu.

" Believe me yours very truly,

" Byrox."

The idea, entertained by Mrs. Byron, of a resem-
blance between her son and Rousseau was founded
chiefly, we may suppose, on those habits of solitari-
ness, in which he had even already shown a disposi-
tion to follow that self-contemplative philosopher,
and which, manifesting themselves thus early, gain-
ed strength as he advanced in life. In one of his
Journals, to which I frequently have occasion to re-
fer*, he thus, in questioning the justice of this com-
parison between himself and Rousseau, gives, — as
usual, vividly, — some touches of his own disposition
and habitudes : —

" iNIy mother, before I was twenty, would have it
that I was like Rousseau, and Madame de Stael
used to say so too in 1813, and the Edinburgh Re-
view has something of the sort in its critique on the
fourth Canto of Childe Harold. I can't see any
point of resemblance : — he wrote prose, I verse :
he was of the people; I of the aristocracy f : he
was a philosopher ; I am none : he published his
first work at forty ; I mine at eighteen : his first es-

* The Journal entitled by himself " Detached Thoughts."

f Few philosophers, however, have been so indulgent to

the pride of birth as Rousseau. — " S'il est un orgueil par-

donnablo (he says) apres cclui qui se tire du merite personnel,

c'est celui qui se tire de la naissancc." — Confess.

1808. LIFE OF LOUD BYRON. 219

say brought him universal applause ; mine the con-
trary : he married his housekeeper ; I could not
keep house with my wife : he thought all the world
in a plot against him ; my little world seems to
think me in a plot against it, if I may judge by their
abuse in print and coterie : he liked botany ; I like
flowers, herbs, and trees, but know nothing of their
pedigrees : he wrote music ; I limit my knowledge
of it to what I catch by ear — I never could learn any
thing by study, not even a language — it was all by
rote, and ear, and memory : he had a had memory ; I
had, at least, an excellent one (ask Hodgson the poet
— a good judge, for he has an astonishing one) : he
wrote with hesitation and care ; I with rapidity, and
rarely with pains : he could never ride, nor swim,
nor ' was cunning of fence ; ' / am an excellent
swimmer, a decent, though not at all a dashing, rider,
(having staved in a rib at eighteen, in the course of
scampering), and was sufficient of fence, particularly
of the Highland broadsword, — not a bad boxer,
when I could keep my temper, which was difficult,
but which I strove to do ever since I knocked dov>'n
Mr. Purling, and put his knee-pan out (with the
gloves on), in Angelo's and Jackson's rooms in 1S06,
during the sparring, — and I was, besides, a very
fair cricketer, — one of the Harrow eleven, when we
played against Eton in 1805. Besides, Rousseau's
way of life, his country, his manners, his whole cha-
racter, were so very different, that I am at a loss to
conceive how such a comparison could have arisen,
as it has done three several times, and all in rather
a remarkable manner. I forgot to say that he was

220 NOTICES OF THE

1808.

also short-siglited, and that hitherto my eyes have
been the contrary, to such a degree that, in the
largest theatre of Bologna, I distinguished and read
some busts and inscriptions, painted near the stage,
from a box so distant and so darkhj lighted, that
none of the company (composed of young and very
bright-eyed people, some of them in the same
box,) could make out a letter, and thought it was
a trick, though I had never been in that theatre
before.

" Altogether, I think myself justified in thinking
the comparison not well founded. I don't say this
out of pique, for Rousseau was a great man ; and
the thing, if true, were flattering enough ; — but I
have no idea of being pleased with the chimera."

In another letter to his mother, dated some weeks
after the preceding one, he explains further his plans
both with respect to Newstead and his projected
travels.

Letter 31. TO MRS. BYRON.

" Newstead Abbey, November 2. 180S.
" Dear Mother,

" If you please, we will forget the things you

mention. I have no desire to remember them.

When my rooms are finished, I shall be happy to see

you ; as I tell but the truth, you will not suspect me

of evasion. I am furnishing the house more for you

than myself, and I shall establish you in it before I

sail for India, which I expect to do in March, if

nothing particularly obstructive occurs. I am now

fitting up the green drawing-room; the red for a

1808. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 221

bed-room, and the rooms over as sleeping-rooms.
They will be soon completed ; — at least I hope so.

" I wish you would enquire of Major Watson (who
is an old Indian) what things will be necessary to
provide for my voyage. I have already procured a
friend to write to the Arabic Professor at Cambridge,
for some information I am anxious to procure. I
can easily get letters from government to the am-
bassadors, consuls, &c., and also to the governors at
Calcutta and Madras. I shall place my property
and my will in the hands of trustees till my return,
and I mean to appoint you one. From H * * I have
heard nothing — when I do, you shall have the par-
ticulars.

" After all, you must own my project is not a bad
one. If I do not travel now, I never shall, and all
men should one day or other. I have at present no
connections to keep me at home ; no wife, or unpro-
vided sisters, brothers, &c. I shall take care of you,
and when I return I may possibly become a politi-
cian. A few years" knowledge of other countries
than our own will not incapacitate me for that part.
If we see no nation but our own, we do not givo
mankind a fair chance : — it is from experience, not
books, we ought to judge of them. There is nothing
like inspection, and trusting to our own senses.

" Yours," See.

In the November of this year he lost his favourite
dog. Boatswain, — the poor animal having been seized
with a fit of madness, at the commencement of which
so little aware was Lord Byron of the nature of the

222 NOTICES OF THE 1808.

malady, that he more than once, with his bare hand,
wiped away the slaver from the dog's lips during the
paroxysms. In a letter to his friend, Mr. Hodgson*,
he thus announces this event: — " Boatswain is dead I
— he expired in a state of madness on the 18th,
after suffering much, yet retaining all the gentleness
of his nature to the last, never attempting to do the
least injury to any one near him. I have now lost
every thing except old Murray."

The monument raised by him to this dog, — the
most memorable tribute of the kind, since the Dog's
Grave, of old, at Salamis, — is still a conspicuous orna-
ment of the gardens of Newstead. The misanthropic
verses engraved upon it may be found among his
poems, and the following is the inscription by which
they are introduced : —

" Near this spot

Are deposited the Remains of one

Wiio possessed Beauty without Vanity,

Strength without Insolence,

Courage without Ferocity,

And all the Virtues of IWan without his Vices.

Tliis Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery

If inscribed over human ashes,

Is but a just tribute to the jVIemory of

Boatswain, a Dog,

"VVho was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803,

And died at Newstead Abbey, November 18. 1808."

* This gentleman, who took orders in the year 1SI4, is the
author of a spirited translation of Juvenal, and of other works
of distinguished merit. He was long in correspondence with
I/ord Byron, and to him I am indebted for some interesting
letters of liis noble friend, which will be given in the course of
the following pages.

180S. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 223

The poet, Pope, when about the same age as the
writer of this inscription, passed a similar eulogy on
his dog *, at the expense of human nature ; adding,
that " Histories are more full of examples of the
fidelity of dogs than of friends." In a still sadder and
bitterer spirit, Lord Byron writes of his favourite,

" To mark a friend's remains those stones arise ;
I never knew but one, and here he lies." f

Melancholy, indeed, seems to have been gaining
fast upon his mind at this period. In another letter

* He had also, at one time, as appears from an anecdote
preserved by Spence, some thoughts of burying this dog in his
garden, and placing a monument over him, with the inscription,
" Oh, rare Bounce ! "

In speaking of the members of Rousseau's domestic
establishment, Hume says, " She (Ther^se) governs him as
absolutely as a nurse does a child. In her absence, his dog
lias acquired that ascendant. His affection for that creature is
beyond all expression or conception." — Private Correspondence.
See an instance which he gives of this dog's influence over the
philosopher, p. 143.

In Burns's elegy on the death of his favourite Mailie, we
find the friendship even of a sheep set on a level with that
of man : —

" Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him,
She ran wi' speed :
A friend mair faithful ne'er came nigh him.
Than Mailie dead."

In speaking of the favourite dogs of great poets, we must
not forget Cowper's little spaniel " Beau ; " nor will posterity
fail to add to the list the name of Sir Walter Scott's " Maida."

•|- In the epitaph, as first printed in liis friend's IMiscellany,
this line runs thus ; —

" I knew but one unchanged — and here he lies,"

^24f NOTICES OF THE 180S.

to Mr. Hodgson, he says, — " You know laughing
is the sign of a rational animal — so says Dr. Smol-
let. I think so too, but unluckily my spirits don't
always keep pace with my opinions."

Old Murray, the servant whom he mentions, in a
preceding extract, as the only faithful follower now
remaining to him, had long been in the service of
the former lord, and was regarded by the young poet
with a fondness of affection which it has seldom been
the lot of age and dependence to inspire. " 1 have
more than once," says a gentleman who was at this
time a constant visiter at Newstead, " seen Lord
Byron at the dinner-table fill out a tumbler of INIa-
deira, and hand it over his shoulder to Joe 3Iurray,
who stood behind his chair, saying, with a cordiality
that brightened his whole countenance, ' Here, my
old fellow.'"

The unconcern with which he could sometimes
allude to the defect in his foot is manifest from an-
other passage in one of these letters to Mr. Hodgson.
That gentleman having said jestingly that some of
the verses in the " Hours of Idleness " were calcu-
lated to make schoolboys rebellious, Lord Byron
answers — " If my songs have produced the glorious
eff'ects you mention, I shall be a complete Tyrtaeus ;
— though I am sorry to say I resemble that in-
teresting harper more in his person than in his
poesy." Sometimes, too, even an allusion to this
infirmity by others, when he could perceive that it
was not offensively intended, was borne by him with the
most perfect good humour. " I was once present,"
says the frienol I have just mentioned, " in a large

180S. LIFE OF LORD BYRON, 225

and mixed company, when a vulgar person asked him
aloud — ' Pray, my Lord, how is that foot of yours?'
— ' Thank you, sir,' answered Lord Byron, with
the utmost mildness — ' much the same as usual.'"

The following extract, relating to a reverend friend
of his Lordship, is from another of his letters to Mr.
Hodgson, this year : —

" A i'ew weeks ago I wrote to * * * , to request
he would receive the son of a citizen of London,
well known to me, as a pupil ; the family having
been particularly pohte during the short time I was
with them induced me to this application. Now,
mark what follows, as somebody sublimely salth.
On this day arrives an epistle signed * * *, containing
not the smallest reference to tuition or intuition, but
a yjetition for Robert Gregson, of pugilistic notoriety,
now in bondage for certain paltry pounds sterling,
and liable to take up his everlasting abode in Banco
Regis, Had the letter been from any of my la?/ ac-
quaintance, or, in short, from any person but the
gentleman whose signature it bears, I should have
marvelled not. If * * * is serious, I congratulate
pugilism on the acquisition of such a patron, and
shall be most happy to advance any sum necessary
for the liberation of the captive Gregson. But I
certainly hope to be certified from you, or some
respectable housekeeper, of the fact, before I write
to * * * on the subject. When I say the fact, I
mean of the letter being written by * * *, not having
any doubt as to the authenticity of the statement.
The letter is now before me, and I keep it for your
perusal,"

VOL. I. Q

226 NOTICES OF THE 18C8.

His time at Newsteacl during this autumn was
principally occupied in enlarging and preparing his
Satire for the press ; and with the view, perhaps, of
mellowing his own judgment of its merits, by keep-
ing it some time before his eyes in a printed form *,
he had proofs taken off from the manuscript by his
former publisher at Newark. It is somewhat remark-
able, that, excited as he was by the attack of the
reviewers, and possessing, at all times, such rapid
powers of composition, he should have allowed so
long an interval to elapse between the aggression and
the revenge. But the importance of his next move
in literature seems to have been fully appreciated by
him. He saw that his chances of future eminence
now depended upon the effort he was about to make,
and therefore deliberately collected all his energies
for the spring. Among the preparatives by which
he disciplined his talent to the task was a deep
study of the writings of Pope ; and I have no doubt
that from this period may be dated the enthusiastic
admiration which he ever after cherished for this
great poet, — an admiration which at last extin-
guished in him, after one or two trials, all hope of
pre-eminence in the same track, and drove him
thenceforth to seek renown in fields more open to
competition.

The misanthropic mood of mind into wiiich he
had fallen at this time, from disappointed affections

* We are told that Wielaiid used to have his works printed
thus for the purpose of correction, and said that he found
great advantage in it. The practice is, it appears, not unusual
in Germany.

1809. lAh'E OF LORD BVROX. 227

and thwarted hopes, made the office of satirist but
too congenial and welcome to his spirit. Yet it is
evident that this bitterness existed far more in his
fancy than his heart ; and that the sort of relief he
now found in making war upon the world arose
mucli less from the indiscriminate wounds he dealt
around, than from the new sense of power he became
conscious of in dealing them, and by which he more
than recovered his former station in his own esteem.
In truth, the versatility and ease with which, as shall
presently be shown, he could, on the briefest con-
sideration, shift from praise to censure, and, some-
times, almost as rapidly, from censure to praise,
shows how fanciful and transient were the impres-
sions under which he, in many instances, pronounced
his judgments ; and though it may in some degree
deduct from the weight of his eulogy, absolves him
also from any great depth of malice in his Satire.

Ilis coming of age, in 1809, was celebrated at
Newstead by such festivities as his narrow means
and society could furnish. Besides the ritual roast-
ing of an ox, there was a ball, it seems, given on
the occasion, — of which the only particular I could
collect, from the old domestic who mentioned it,
was, that JNIr. Hanson, the agent of her lord, was
among the dancers. Of Lord Byron's own method
of commemorating the day, I find the following
curious record in a letter written from Genoa in
1822 : — " Did I ever tell you tliat the day I came
of age I dined on eggs and bacon and a bottle of
ale ? — For once in a way they are my favourite
dish and drinkable; but as neither of them agree

Q 2

2'28 NOTICES OF THE 1SC9.

with me, I never use them but on great jubilees, —
once in four or five years or so." The pecuniary
supplies necessary towards his outset, at this epoch,
were procured from money-lenders at an enormously
usurious interest, the payment of which for a long
time continued to be a burden to him.

It was not till the beginning of this year that he
took his Satire, — in a state ready, as he thought,
for publication, — to London. Before, however, he
had put the 'svork to press, new food was unluckily
furnished to his spleen by the neglect with wliich
he conceived himself to have been treated by his
guardian, Lord Carlisle. The relations between this
nobleman and his ward had, at no time, been of
such a nature as to afford opportunities for the cul-
tivation of much friendliness on either side; and to
the temper and influence of ^Irs. Byron must mainly
be attributed the blame of widening, if not of pro-
ducing, this estrangement between them. The
coldness with which Lord Carlisle had received the
dedication of the young poet's first volume was, as
we have seen from one of the letters of the latter,
felt by him most deeply. He, however, allowed
himself to be so far governed by prudential con-
siderations as not only to stifle this displeasure, but
even to introduce into his Satire, as originally in-
tended for the press, the following compliment to
his guardian : —

" On one alone Apollo dtigns to smile,

And crowns a new Roscommon in Carlisle."

The crown, however, thus generously awarded,
did not long remain where it had been placed. In

ISOy. LIFE OF LORD BVROX. 229

the interval between the inditing of this couplet and
the delivery of the manuscript to the press, Lord
Byron, under the impression that it was customar}''
for a young peer, on first taking his seat, to have
some friend to introduce him, wrote to remind Lord
Carlisle that he should be of age at the commence-
ment of the session. Listead, however, of the sort
of answer which he expected, a mere formal, and,
as it appeared to him, cold reply, acquainting him
with the technical mode of proceeding on such occa-
sions, was all that, in return to this application, he
received. Disposed as he had been, by preceding
circumstances, to suspect his noble guardian of no
very friendly inclinations towards him, this back-
wardness in proposing to introduce him to the
House (a ceremony, however, as it appears, by no
means necessary or even usual) was sufficient to
rouse in his sensitive mind a strong feeling of resent-
ment. The indignation, thus excited, found a vent,
but too temptingly, at hand; — the laudatory couplet
I have just cited was instantly expunged, and his
Satire went forth charged with those vituperative
verses against Lord Carlisle, of which, gratifying as
they must have been to his revenge at the moment,
he, not long after, with the placabiUty so inherent
in his generous nature, repented.*

* See his lines on Major Howard, the son of Lord Carlisle,
who was killed at Waterloo : —

" Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine;
Yet one I would select from that proud throng,
Partly because they blend me with his line,
And partly that I did his sire some irrong."

Childe Harold, canto iiv
Q 3

230 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

During the progress of his poem througli the
press, he increased its length by more than a hun-
dred hnes ; and made several alterations, one or two
of which may be mentioned, as illustrative of that
prompt susceptibility of new impressions and influ-
ences which rendered both his judgment and feel-
ings so variable. In the Satire, as it originally stood,
was the following couplet : —

" Though printers condescend the press to soil
With odes by Smythe, and epic songs by Hoyle."

Of the injustice of these lines (unjust, it is but fair
to say, to both the writers mentioned,) he, on the
brink of publication, repented; and, — as far, at
least, as regarded one of the intended victims, —
adopted a tone directly opposite in his printed Sa-
tire, where the name of Professor Smythe is men-
tioned honourably, as it deserved, in conjunction with
that of Mr. Hodgson, one of the poet's most valued
friends : —

" Oh dark asylum of a Vandal race !

At once the boast of learning and disgrace ;

So sunk in dulness, and so lost in shame,

That Smythe and Hodgson scarce redeem thy fame."

In another instance we find him " changing his
hand " with equal facility and suddenness. The ori-
ginal manuscript of the Satire contained this line, —

" I leave topography to coxcomb Gell ; "

but having, while the work was printing, become
acquainted with Sir William Gell, he, without diffi-
culty, by the change of a single epithet, converted
satire into eulogy, and the line now descends to
posterity thus : —

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 231

" I leave topograpliy to classic Gell." *

Among the passages added to the poem during
its progress through the press were those lines de-
nouncing the licentiousness of the Opera. " Then
let Ausonia," &c. which the young satirist wrote one
night, after returning, brimful of morality, from the
Opera, and sent them early next morning to Mr.
Dallas for insertion. The just and animated tribute
to Mr. Crabbe was also among the after-thoughts
with which his poem was adorned ; nor can we doubt
that both this, and the equally merited eulogy on
Mr. Kogers, were the disinterested and deliberate
result of the young poet's judgment, as he had never
at that period seen either of these distinguished
persons, and the opinion he then expressed of their
genius remained unchanged through life. With

* In tlie fifth edition of the Satire (suppressed by him in
1812) he again changed his mind respecting this gentleman,
and altered the line to

*' I leave topography to rapid Gell ; "
explaining his reasons for the change in the following note: —
" ' Rapid,' indeed ; — he topographised and typographised
King Priam's dominions in three days. I called him ' classic'
before I saw^ the Troad, but since have learned better than to
tack to his name what don't belong to it."

He is not, however, the only satirist who has been thus
capricious and changeable in his judgments. The variations
of this nature in Pope's Dunciad are well known ; and the
Al)be Cotin, it is said, owed the " painful pre-eminence " of
his station in Boileau's Satires to the unlucky convenience of
his name as a rhyme. Of the generous change from censure
to praise, the poet Dante had already set an example ; having,
in liis " Convito," lauded some of those persons whom, in his
Cominedia, he had most severely lashed.

CI 4<

232 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

the author of tlie Pleasures of Memory he after-
^yards became intimate, but with him, whom he had
so well designated as " Nature's sternest painter, yet
the best," he was never lucky enough to form any
acquaintance ; — though, as my venerated friend and
neighbour, Mr. Crabbe himself, tells me, they were
once, without being aware of it, in the same inn
together for a day or two, and must have frequently
met, as they went in and out of the house, during
the time.

Almost every second day, while the Satire was
printing, Mr. Dallas, who had undertaken to super-
intend it through the press, received fresh matter,
ibr the enrichment of its pages, from the author,
whose mind, once excited on any subject, knew no
end to the outpourings of its wealth. In one of his
short notes to Mr. Dallas, he says, " Print soon, or
I shall overflow with rhyme;" and it was, in the
same manner, in all his subsequent publications, —
as long, at least, as he remained within reach of the
printer, — that he continued thus to feed the press, to
the very last moment, with new and " thick-coming
fancies," which the re-perusal of what he had already
written suggested to him. It would almost seem,
indeed, from the extreme facility and rapidity with
which he produced some of his brightest passages
during the progress of his works through the press,
that there was in tlie very act of printing an excite-
ment to his fancy, and that the rush of his thoughts
towards this outlet gave increased life and freshness
to their flow.

Among the passing events from which he now

1S09. LIFE OF LORD BYUON. ,233

caught illustrations for his poem was the melancholy
death of Lord Falkland, — a gallant, but dissipated
naval officer, with whom the habits of his town life
liad brought him acquainted, and who, about the be-
ginning of March, was killed in a duel by Mr. Powell.
That this event affected Lord Byron very deeply, the
few touching sentences devoted to it in his Satire
prove. " On Sunday night (he saj^s) I beheld Lord
Falkland presiding at his own table in all the honest
pride of hospitality ; on Wednesday morning at three
o'clock I saw stretched before me all that remained
of courage, feeling, and a host of passions." But it
was not by words only that he gave proof of sym-
pathy on this occasion. The family of the unfor-
tunate nobleman were left behind in circumstances
which needed something more than the mere expres-
sion of compassion to alleviate them ; and Lord Byron,
notwithstanding the pressure of his own difficulties
at the time, found means, seasonably and delicately,
to assist the widow and children of his friend. In
the following letter to Mrs. Byron, he mentions this
among other matters of interest, — and in a tone of
unostentatious sensibility highly honourable to him.

Letter 32. TO MRS. BYRON.

" 8. St. James's Street, March 6. 1809.
" Dear Mother,

" My last letter was written under great depres-
sion of spirits from poor Falkland's death, who has
left without a shilling four children and his wife. I
have been endeavouring to assist them, which, God
knows, I cannot do as I could wish, from my own

'234- NOTICES OF THE 1809.

embarrassments and the many claims upon me from
ether quarters.

" What you say is all very true : come what may,
Netcstead and I stand or fall together. I have now
lived on the spot, I have fixed my heart upon it, and
no pressure, present or future, shall induce me to
barter the last vestige of our inheritance. I have
that pride within me vvhich will enable me to
support difficulties. I can endure privations ; but
could I obtain in exchange for Newstead Abbey the
first fortune in the country I would reject the pro-
position. Set your mind at ease on that score ;
Mr. H * * talks like a man of business on the subject,
— I feel like a man of honour, and I will not sell
Newstead.

" I shall get my seat on the return of the affidavits
from Carhais, in Cornwall, and will do something in
the House soon : I must dash, or it is all over. My
Satire must be kept secret for a month ; after that
you may say what you please on the subject. Lord
C. has used me infamously, and refused to state any
particulars of my family to the Chancellor. I have
lashed him in my rhymes, and perhaps his Lordship
may regret not being more conciliatory. They tell
me it will have a sale ; I hope so, for the bookseller
has behaved well, as far as publishing well goes.

" Believe me, &c.

" P. S. — You shall have a mortgage on one of the
farms."

The affidavits which he here mentions, as expected
from Cornwall, were those required in proof of the

1S09. LIFE OF LORD BYKON. 235

marriage of Admiral Byron with Miss Trevanion, the
solemnisation of which having taken place, as it
appears, in a private chapel at Carhais, no regular
certificate of the ceremony could be produced. The
delay in procuring other evidence, coupled with the
refusal of Lord Carlisle to afford any explanations
respecting his family, interposed those difficulties
which he alludes to in the way of his taking his seat.
At length, all the necessary proofs having been
obtained, he, on the 13th of March, presented him-
self in the House of Lords, in a state more lone and
unfriended, perhaps, than any youth of his high
station had ever before been reduced to on such an
occasion, — not having a single individual of his own
class either to take him by the hand as friend or
acknowledge him as acquaintance. To chance alone
was he even indebted for being accompanied as far
as the bar of the House by a very distant relative,
who had been, little more than a year before, an
utter stranger to him. This relative was Mr. Dallas;
and the account which he has given of the whole
scene is too striking in all its details to be related in
any other words than his own : —

" The Satire was published about the middle of
March, previous to which lie took his seat in the
House of Lords, on the 13th of tlie same month.
On that day, passing down St. James's Street, but
with no intention of calling, I saw his chariot at his
door, and went in. His countenance, paler than
usual, showed that his mind was agitated, and that
he was thinking of the nobleman to whom he had
once looked for a hand and countenance in liis

236 NOTICES OF THE

1809.

introduction to the House. He said to me — 'I am
glad you happened to come in ; I am going to take
my seat, perhaps you will go with me.' I expressed
my readiness to attend him; while, at the same time,
I concealed the shock I felt on thinking that this
young man, who, by birth, fortune, and talent, stood
high in life, should have lived so miconnected and
neglected by persons of his own rank, that there
was not a single member of the senate to which he
belonged, to whom he could or would apply to
introduce him in a manner becoming his birth. I
saw that he felt the situation, and I fully partook
his indignation.

" After some talk about the Satire, the last sheets
of which were in the press, I accompanied Lord
Byron to the House. He was received in one of
the ante-chambers by some of the officers in attend-
ance, with whom he settled respecting the fees he
liad to pay. One of them went to apprise the Lord
Chancellor of his being there, and soon returned for
him. There were very few persons in the House.
Lord Eldon was going through some ordinary busi-
ness. When Lord Byron entered, I thought he
looked still paler than before ; and he certainly wore
a countenance in which mortification was mingled
with, but subdued by, indignation. He passed the
woolsack without looking round, and advanced to
the table where the proper officer was attending to
administer the oaths. When he had s:one throu<rh
them, the Chancellor quitted his seat, and went
towards him with a smile, putting out bis hand
warmly to welcome him ; and, though I did not

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 237

catch his words, I saw that he paid him some com-
pliment. This was all thrown away upon Lord
Byron, who made a stiff bow, and put the tips of his
fingers into the Chancellor's hand. The Chancellor
did not press a welcome so received, but resumed
his seat; while Lord Byron carelessly seated himself
for a few minutes on one of the empty benches to the
left of the throne, usually occupied by the lords in
opposition. When, on his joining me, I expressed
what I had felt, he said — ' If I had shaken hands
heartily, he would have set me down for one of
his party — but I will have nothing to do with any
of them, on either side ; 1 have taken my seat, and
now I will go abroad.' We returned to St. James's
Street, but he did not recover his spirits."

To this account of a ceremonial so trying to the
proud spirit engaged in it, and so little likely to abate
the bitter feeling of misanthropy now growing upon
him, I am enabled to add, from his own report in
one of his note-books, the particulars of the short
conversation which he held with the Lord Chancellor
on the occasion : —

" When I came of age, some delays, on account
of some birth and marriage certificates from Corn-
wall, occasioned me not to take my seat for several
weeks. When these were over, and I had taken the
oaths, the Chancellor apologised to me for the delay,
observing 'that these forms were a part of his r7M/_y.'
I begged him to make no apology, and added (as he
certainly had shown no violent hurry), ' Your Lord-
ship was exactly like Tom Thumb' (which was then
being acted) — ' you did your (hihj, and you did no
more.

2i3S KOTICES OF THE 1809,

In a few days after, the Satire made its appearance ;
and one of the first copies was sent, with the follow-
ing letter, to his friend Mr. Harness.

Letter 33. TO MR. HARNESS.

" 8. St. James's Street, March 18. 1809.

" There was no necessity for your excuses : if
you have time and inclination to write, ' for what
we receive, the Lord make us thankful,' — if I do
not hear from you I console myself with the idea
that you are much more agreeably employed.

" I send down to you by this post a certain Satire
lately published, and in return for the three and six-
pence expenditure upon it, only beg that if you
should guess the author, you will keep his name
secret ; at least for the present. London is full of
the Duke's business. The Commons have been at
it these last three nights, and are not yet come to a
decision. I do not know if the affair will be brought
before our House, unless in the shape of an impeach-
ment. If it makes its appearance in a debatable
form, I believe I shall be tempted to say something
on the subject. — I am glad to hear you like Cam-
bridge : firstly, because, to know that you are happy
is pleasant to one who wishes you all possible sub-
lunary enjoyment: and, secondly, I admire the mo-
rality of the sentiment. Alma 3Iater was to me
injusta noverca ; and the old beldam only gave me
my M. A. degree because she could not avoid it. * —

* In another letter to Mr. Harness, dated Februarj-, 1809,
he says, " I do not know how you and Ahna Mater agree. I

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRO.V. 239

You know what a farce a noble Cantab, must per-
form.

" I am going abi-oad, if possible, in the spring, and
before I depart I am collecting the pictures of my
most intimate schoolfellows ; I have already a few,
and shall want yours, or my cabinet will be incom-
plete. I have employed one of the first miniature
painters of the day to take them, of course, at my
own expense, as I never allow my acquaintance to
incur the least expenditure to gratify a whim of
mine. To mention this may seem indelicate ; but
when I tell you a friend of ours first refused to sit,
under the idea that he was to disburse on the
occasion, you will see that it is necessary to state
these preliminaries to prevent the recurrence of any
similar mistake. I shall see you in time, and will
carry you to the limner. It will be a tax on your
patience for a week, but pray excuse it, as it is
possible the resemblance may be the sole trace I
shall be able to preserve of our past friendship and
acquaintance. Just now it seems foolish enough,
but in a few years, when some of us are dead, and
others are separated by inevitable circumstances, it
will be a kind of satisfaction to retain in these
images of the living the idea of our former selves,
and to contemplate, in the resemblances of the dead,
all that remains of judgment, feeling, and a host of

was hut an untoward cliild myself, and I believe the good lady
and lier brat were e((ually rejoiced when I was weaned ; and
if I obtained her l)cne'liction at parting, it was ^t hn^i,
equivocal."

240 NOTICES OB' THE 1809.

passions. But all this will be dull enough for you,
and so good night, and to end my chapter, or rather
my homily, believe me, my dear H., yours most
affectionately."

In this romantic design of collecting together the
portraits of his school friends, we see the natural
working of an ardent and disappointed heart, which,
as the future began to darken upon it, clung with
fondness to the recollections of the past; and, in
despair of finding new and true friends, saw no
hapjjiness but in preserving all it could of the old.
But even here, his sensibility had to encounter one
of those freezing checks, to which feelings, so much
above the ordinary temperature of the world, are
but too constantly exposed ; — it being from one of
the very friends thus fondly valued by him, that he
experienced, on leaving England, that mark of neglect
of which he so indignantly complains in a note on the
second Canto of Childe Harold, — contrasting v.ith
this conduct the fidelity and devotedness he had just
found in his Turkish servant, Dervish. Mr. Dallas,
who witnessed the immediate effect of this slight
upon him, thus describes his emotion : —

" I found him bursting with indignation. ' Will
you believe it?' said he, 'I have just met * * *, and
asked him to come and sit an hour with me : he ex-
cused himself; and what do you think was his ex-
cuse ? He was engaged with his mother and some
ladies to go shopping ! And he knows I set out to-
morrow, to be absent for years, perhaps never to
return I — Friendship ! I do not believe I shall

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. !24'1

leave behind me, yourself and family excepted, and
perhaps my mother, a single being who will care what
becomes of me. '"

From his expressions in a letter to Mrs. Byron,
already cited, that he must " do something in the
House soon," as well as from a more definite inti-
mation of the same intention to Mr. Harness, it would
appear that he had, at this time, serious thoughts of
at once entering on the high political path which his
station as an hereditary legislator opened to him.
But, whatever may have been the first movements of
his ambition in this direction, they were soon relin-
quished. Had he been connected with any distin-
guished political families, his love of eminence,
seconded by such example and sympathy, would have
impelled him, no doubt, to seek renown in the fields
of party warfare where it might have been his fate
to afford a signal instance of that transmuting process
by which, as Pope says, the corruption of a poet
sometimes leads to the generation of a statesman.
Luckily, however, for the world (though whether
luckily for himself may be questioned), the brighter
empire of poesy was destined to claim him all its
own. The loneliness, indeed, of his position in so-
ciety at this period, left destitute, as he was, of all
those sanctions and sympathies, by which youth at
its first start is usually surrounded, was, of itself,
enough to discourage him from embavkiiig in a pur-
suit, where it is chiefly on such extrinsic advantages
that any chance of success must depend. So far
from taking an active part in the proceedings of his
noble brethren, he appears to have regarded even

VOL. I. K

2-l'2 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

the ceremony of his attendance among them as irk-
some and mortifying ; and in a few days after his
admission to his seat, he withdrew himself in dis-
gust to the seclusion of liis own Abbey, there to
brood over the bitterness of premature experience,
or meditate, in the scenes and adventures of other
lands, a freer outlet for his impatient spirit than it
could command at home.

It was not long, however, before he was summon-
ed back to town by the success of his Satire, — the
quick sale of which already rendered the preparation
of a new edition necessary. His zealous agent, Mr.
Dallas, had taken care to transmit to him, in his re-
tirement, all the favourable opinions of ihe work he
could collect ; and it is not unamusing, as showing
the sort of steps by which Fame at first mounts, to
find the approbation of such authorities as Pratt and
the magazine writers put forward among the first
rewards and encouragements of a Byron.

'' You are already (he says) pretty generally known
to be the author. So Cawthorn tells me, and a
proof occurred to myself at Hatchard's, the Queen's
bookseller. On enquiring for the Satire, he told me
that he had sold a great many, and had none leit,
and was going to send for more, which I afterwards
found he did. I asked who was the author? He
said it was believed to be Lord Byron's. Did he.
believe it ? Yes he did. On asking the ground of
his belief, he told me that a lady of distinction
had, without hesitation, asked for it as Lord Byron's
Satire. He likewise informed me that he had en-
quired of Mr. GifFord, who frequents his shop, if it

1809.

LIFE OF LORD CYKON. 2i3

was vours. Mr. Gifford denied any knowledge of the
author, but spoke very highly of it, and said a copy
had been sent to him. Hatchard assured me that
all who came to his reading-room admired it. Caw-
thorn tells me it is universally well spoken of, not
only among his own customers, but generally at all
the booksellers. I heard it highly praised at my
own publisher's, where I have lately called several
times. At Phillips's it was read aloud by Pratt to
a circle of literary guests, who were unanimous in
their applause : — The Anti-jacobin, as well as the
Gentleman s Magazine, has already blown the trump
of fame for you. We shall see it in the other Re-
views next month, and probably in some severely
handled, according to the connection of the pro-
prietors and editors with those whom it lashes."

On his arrival in London, towards the end of
April, he found the first edition of his poem nearly
exhausted; and set immediately about preparing
another, to which he determined to prefix his name.
The additions he now made to the work were con-
siderable,— near a hundred new lines being intro-
duced at the very opening *, — and it was not till
about the middle of the ensuing month that the new
edition was ready to go to press. He had, during
his absence from town, fixed definitely with his friend,
Mr. Hobhouse, that they should leave England to-
gether on the following June, and it was his wish to
see the last proofs of the volume corrected before
his departure.

• The poem, in the first edition, began at the line,
" Time was cie yet, in these degenerate days."
U 2

Sit NOTICES OF THE 1S09.

Among the new features of this edition was a Post-
script to the Satire, in prose, which Mr. Dallas, much
to the credit of his discretion and taste, most ear-
nestly entreated the poet to suppress. It is to be
regretted that the adviser did not succeed in his
efforts, as there runs a tone of bravado through this
ill-judged effusion, which it is, at all times, painful to
see a brave man assume. For instance : — "It may
be said," he observes, " that I quit England because
I have censured these ' persons of honour and wit
about town ;' but I am coming back again, and their
vengeance will keep hot till my return. Those who
know me can testify that my motives for leaving
England are very different from fears, literary or
personal ; those who do not may be one day con-
vinced. Since the publication of this thing, my
name has not been concealed ; I have been mostly
in London, ready to answer for my transgressions,
and in daily expectation of sundry cartels ; but, alas,
' the age of chivalry is over,' or, in the vulgar tongue,
there is no spirit now-a-days."

But, whatever may have been the faults or indis-
cretions of this Satire, there are few who would now
sit in judgment upon it so severely as did the author
himself, on reading it over nine years after, when he
had quitted England, never to return. The copy
■which he then perused is now in possession of Mr.
Murray, and the remarks which he has scribbled over
its pages are well w-orth transcribing. On the first
leaf we find —

" The binding of this volume is considerably too
valuable for its contents.

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON% 245

" Nothing but the consideration of its being the
property of another prevents me from consigning
this miserable record of misplaced anger and indis-
criminate acrimony to the flames. B."

0])posite the passage,

" to be misled
By Jeffrey's heart, or Lamb's Boeotian head,"

is written, " This was not just. Neither the heart
nor the head of these gentlemen are at all what
they are here represented." Along the whole of
the severe verses against Mr. Wordsworth he has
scrawled " Unjust," — and the same verdict is affixed
to those against Mr. Coleridge. On his unmeasured
attack upon Mr. Bowles, the comment is, — " Too
savage all this on Bowles ;" and down the margin of
the page containing the lines, " Health to immortal
Jeffrey," &c. he writes, — " Too ferocious — this is
mere insanity;" — adding, on the verses that follow
("Can none remember that eventful day?"»S:c.), "All
this is bad, because personal."

Sometimes, however, he shows a disposition to
stand by his original decisions. Thus, on the passage
relating to a writer of certain obscure Epics (v. 793.),
he says, — " All right ;" adding, of the same person,
" I saw some letters of this fellow to an unfortunate
poetess, whose productions (which the poor woman
by no means thought vainly of) he attacked so rouglily
and bitterly, that I could hardly regret assailing him;
— even were it unjust, which it is not ; for, verily,
he is an ass." On the strong lines, too (v, 953.), upon
Clarke (a writer in a magazine called the Satirist),

R 3

246 NOTICES OF THE 180!>.

he remarks, — " Right enough, — tliis was well de-
served, and well laid on."

To the whole paragraph, heginning " Illustrious
Holland," are affixed the words " Bad enough ; — and
on mistaken grounds besides." The bitter verses
against Lord Carlisle he pronounces "Wrong also: —
the provocation was not sufficient to justify such acer-
bity ;" — and of a subsequent note respecting the
same nobleman, he says, " Much too savage, whatever
the foundation may be." Of Rosa Matilda(v. 738.) he
tells us, " She has since married the Morning Post,
— an exceeding good match." To the verses, " When
some brisk youth, the tenant of a stall," &c., he has
appended the following interesting note: — "This
was meant at poor Blackett, who was then patronised
by A. I. B.*; — but that I did not know, or this would
not have been written ; at least I think not."

Farther on, where Mr. Campbell and other poets
are mentioned, the following gingle on the names of
their respective poems is scribbled : —

" Pretty Miss Jacqueline
Had a nose aquiline ;
And would assert rude
Things of Miss Gertrude ;
AVhile Mr. Marmion
Led a great aniiy on.
Making Kehama look
Like a fierce Mamaluke."

Opposite the paragraph in praise of Mr. Crabbe

he has written, " I consider Crabbe and Coleridge

as the first of these times in point of power and

fienius." On his own line, in a subsequent paragraph,

* Lacly Byron, then Miss Milbank.

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 24'7

" And glory, like the phcenix mkl her fires," he says,
comically, "The devil take that phoenix — how
came it there?" and his concluding remark on the
whole poem is as follows : —

" The greater part of this satire I most sincerely
wish had never been written ; not only on account
of the injustice of much of the critical and some of
the personal part of it, but the tone and temper are
such as I cannot approve. Byron.

" Diodata, Geneva, July 14. 1816. "

While engaged in preparing his new edition for
the press, he was also gaily dispensing the hospitali-
ties of Newstead to a party of young college friends,
whom, with the prospect of so long an absence from
England, he had assembled round him at the Abbey,
for a sort of festive farewell. The following letter
from one of the party, Charles Skinner Matthews,
though containing much less of the noble host him-
self than we could have wished, yet, as a picture,
taken freshly and at the moment, of a scene so preg-
nant with character, will, I have little doubt, be
highly acceptable to the reader.

LETTER FROM CHARLES SKINNER
MATTHEWS, ESQ. TO MISS I. M.

" London, M;iy 22. ISOy.

" My dear ,

" I must begin with giving you a few particu-
lars of the singular place which I have lately quitted.
" Newstead Abbey is situate 136 miles from Lon-
don, — four on this side Mansfield. It is so fine a

24-S NOTICES OF THE ]809.

piece of antiquity, that I should think there must be
a description, and, perhaps, a picture of it in Grose.
The ancestors of its present owner came into pos-
session of it at the time of the dissolution of the
monasteries, — but the building itself is of a much
earlier date. Though sadly fallen to decay, it is still
completely an ahhei/, and most part of it is still
standing in the same state as when it was first built.
There are two tiers of cloisters, with a variety of
cells and rooms about them, which, though not
inhabited, nor in an inhabitable state, might easily
be made so ; and many of the original rooms,
amongst which is a fine stone hall, are still in use.
Of the abbey church only one end remains ; and the
old kitchen, with a long range of apartments, is re-
duced to a heap of rubbish. Leading from the
abbey to the modern part of the habitation is a
noble room seventy feet in length, and twenty-three
in breadth ; but every part of the house displays
neglect and decay, save those which the present
Lord has lately fitted up.

" The house and gardens are entirely surrounded
by a wall with battlements. Li front is a large lake,
bordered here and there with castellated buildings,
the chief of which stands on an eminence at the
further extremity of it. Fancy all this surrounded
with bleak and barren hills, with scarce a tree to be
seen for miles, except a solitary clump or tw^o, and
3'ou will have some idea of Nev/stead. For the late
Lord being at enmity with his son, to whom the
estate was secured by entail, resolved, out of spite
to the same, that the estate should descend to him

I80«- LIFE OF LORD BVROX. 249

in as miserable a plight as he could possibly reduce
it to ; for which cause, he took no care of the man-
sion, and fell to lopping of every tree he could lay
his hands on, so furiously, that he reduced immense
tracts of woodland country to the desolate state I
have just described. However, his son died before
him, so that all his rage was thrown away.

" So much for the place, concerning which I have
thrown together these few particulars, meaning my
account to be, like the place itself, without any order
or connection. But if the place itself appear rather
strange to you, the ways of the inhabitants will not
appear much less so. Ascend, then, with me the
hall steps, that I may introduce you to my Lord and
his visitants. But have a care how you proceed ;
be mindful to go there in broad daylight, and with
your eyes about you. For, should you make any
blunder, — should you go to the right of the hall
steps, you are laid hold of by a bear ; and should
you go to the left, your case is still worse, for yor.
run full against a wolf! — Nor, when you have at-
tained the door, is your danger over ; for the hall
being decayed, and therefore standing in need of
repair, a bevy of inmates are very probably banging
at one end of it with their pistols ; so that if you
enter without giving loud notice of your approach,
you have only escaped the wolf and the bear to
expire by the pistol-shots of the merry monks of
Newstead.

" Our party consisted of Lord Byron and four
others, and was, now and then, increased by the
presence of a neighbouring parson. As for our way

250 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

of living, the order of the day was generally this : —
for breakfast we had no set hour, but each suited his
own convenience, — every thing remaining on the
table till the whole party had done ; though had one
^vished to breakfast at the early hour of ten, one
would have been rather lucky to find any of the
servants up. Our average hour of rising was one.
I, who generally got up between eleven and twelve,
was always, — even when an invalid, — the first of
the party, and was esteemed a prodigy of early
rising. It was frequently past two before the
breakfast party broke up. Then, for the amuse-
ments of the morning, there was reading, fencing,
single-stick, or shuttle-cock, in the great room ; prac-
tising with pistols in the hall; walking — riding —
cricket — sailing on the lake, playing with the bear,
or teasing the wolf. Between seven and eight we
dined ; and our evening lasted from that time till one,
two, or three in the morning. The evening diversions
may be easily conceived.

" I must not omit the custom of handing round,
after dinner, on the removal of the cloth, a human
skull filled with burgundy. After revelling on
choice viands, and the finest wines of France, we
adjourned to tea, where we amused ourselves with
reading, or improving conversation, — each, accord-
ing to his fancy, — and, after sandwiches, <S-C. retired
to rest. A set of monkish dresses, which had been
provided, with all the proper apparatus of crosses,
beads, tonsures, &c. often gave a variety to our ap-
pearance, and to our pursuits.

" You may easily imagine how chagrined I was at

1S09. LIFE OF LORD ByRON*. 251

being ill nearly the first half of the time I was there.
Ikit I was led into a very different reflection from
tliat of Dr. Swift, who left Pope's house without
ceremony, and afterwards informed him, by letter,
that it was impossible for two sick friends to live
together ; for I found my shivering and invaUd
frame so perpetually annoyed by the thoughtless
and tumultuous health of every one about me, that
I heartily wished every soul in the house to be as ill
as myself.

" The journey back I performed on foot, together
with another of the guests. We walked about
twenty-five miles a day ; but were a week on the
road, from being detained by the rain.

" So here I close my account of an expedition
which has somewhat extended my knowledge of
this country. And where do you think I am going
next ? To Constantinople ! — at least, such an ex-
cursion has been proposed to me. Lord B. and
another friend of mine are going thither next month,
and have asked me to join the party; but it seems
to be but a wild scheme, and requires twice thinking
upon.

" Addio, my dear I., yours very affectionately,

" C. S. Matthews."

Having put the finishing hand to his new edition,
he, without waiting for the fresh honours that were
in store for him, took leave of London (whither he
had returned) on the 1 1 th of June, and, in about a
fortnight after, sailed for Lisbon.

Great as was the advance which his powers had

v.ol NOTicKS OK t;;e 1809.

made, under the influence of that resentment from
which he now drew his inspiration, they were yet,
even in his Satire, at an immeasurable distance from
the point to which they afterwards so triumphantly
rose. It is, indeed, remarkable that, essentially as
his genius seemed connected with, and, as it were,
springing out of his character, the developement of
the one should so long have preceded the full ma-
turity of the resources of the other. By her very
early and rapid expansion of his sensibilities. Nature
had given him notice of what she destined him for,
long before he understood the call ; and those ma-
terials of poetry with which his own fervid tempera-
ment abounded were but by slow degrees, and after
much self-meditation, revealed to him. In his Satire,
though vigorous, there is but little foretaste of the
wonders that followed it. His spirit was stirred, but
he had not yet looked down into its depths, nor does
even his bitterness taste of the bottom of the heart,
like those sarcasms which he afterwards flung in the
face of mankind. Still less had the other countless
feelings and passions, with which his soul had been
long labouring, found an organ worthy of them; —
the gloom, the grandeur, the tenderness of his nature,
all were left without a voice, till his mighty genius,
at last, awakened in its strength.

In stooping, as he did, to write after established
models, as well in the Satire as in his still earlier
poems, he showed how little he had yet explored his
own original resources, or found out those distinctive
marks by which he was to be known through all
times. But, bold and energetic as v/as his general

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 253

character, he was, in a remarkable degree, diffident
in his intellectual powers. The consciousness of
what he could achieve was but by degrees forced
upon him, and the discovery of so rich a mine of
genius in his soul came with no less surprise on
himself than on the world. It was from the same
slowness of self-appreciation that, afterwards, in the
full flow of his fame, he long doubted, as we shall
see, his own aptitude for works of wit and humour,
— till the happy experiment of " Beppo " at once
dissipated this distrust, and opened a new region of
triumph to his versatile and boundless powers.

But, however far short of himself his first writings
must be considered, there is in his Satire a liveliness
of thought, and still more a vigour and courage,
which, concurring with the justice of his cause and
the sympathies of the public on his side, could not
fail to attach instant celebrity to his name. Notwith-
standing, too, the general boldness and recklessness
of his tone, there were occasionally mingled with
this defiance some allusions to his own fate and
character, whose affecting earnestness seemed to
answer for their truth, and which were of a nature
strongly to awaken curiosity as well as interest. One
or two of these passages, as illustrative of the state
of his mind at this period, I shall here extract. The
loose and unfenced state in which his youth was
left to grow wild upon the world is thus touchingly
alluded to : —

" Ev'n I, least thinking of a thoughtless tlirong,

Just skill'd to know the right and choose tlic wrong,

Freed at that age when Reason's shield is lost

To fight my course through Passion's countless host,

23i NOTICES OF THE 1S09.

Whom every path of Pleasure's flowery wav
Has lured in turn, and all have led astray * —
Ev'n I must raise my voice, ev'n I must feel
Such scenes, such men destroy the public weal :
Although some kind, censorious friend will say,
' What art thou better, meddling fool f, than they?'
And every brother Rake will smile to see
Tliat miracle, a Moralist, in me."

But the passage in which, hastily thrown off as it
is, we find the strongest traces of that wounded
feeling, which bleeds, as it were, through all his
subsequent writings, is the following: —

" The time hath been, when no harsh sound would fall
From lips that now may seem imbued with gall,
Nor fools nor foUies tempt me to despise
The meanest thing that crawl'd beneath my eyes.
But now so callous grown, so changed from youth," &c.

Some of the causes that worked this change in
his character have been intimated in the course of
the preceding pages. That there was no tinge of
bitterness in his natural disposition, we have abun-
dant testimony, besides his own, to prove. Though,
as a child, occasionally passionate and headstrong,
his docility and kindness towards those who were
themselves kind, is acknowledged by all ; and "play-
ful" and " affectionate" are invariably the epithets
by which those who knew him in his childhood convey
their impression of his character.

Of all the qualities, indeed, of his nature, affec-

* In the MS. remarks on his Satire, to which I have already
referred, he says, on this passage — " Yea, and a pretty dance
they have led me."

f " Fool then, and but little wiser now." — MS. ibid.

1809. LIFE OF LOUD BYRON. 255

tionateness seems to have been the most ardent and
most deep. A disposition, on his own side, to form
strong attachments, and a yearning desire after
aifection in return, were the feehng and the want
that formed the dream and torment of his existence.
We have seen with what passionate enthusiasm he
threw liimseU' into his boyish friendships. The all-
absorbing and unsuccessful love that followed was,
if I may so say, the agony, without being the death,
of this unsated desire, which lived on through his
life, and filled his poetry with the very soul of ten-
derness, lent the colouring of its light to even those
unworthy ties which vanity or passion led him aftpr-
wards to form, and was the last aspiration of his
fervid spirit in those stanzas written but a few
months before his death : — •

" 'Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since otlicrs it has ceased to move ;
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love ! "

It is much, I own, to be questioned, whether, even
under the most favourable circumstances, a dis-
position such as I have here described could have
escaped ultimate disappointment, or found any
where a resting-place for its imaginings and desires.
But, in the case of Lord Byron, disappointment met
him on the very threshold of life. His mother, to
whom his affections first, naturally with ardour,
turned, either repelled them rudely, or capriciously
trifled wjth them. In speaking of his early days to
a friend at Genoa, a short time before his departure
ior Greece, he traced the first feelings of pain and

253 NOTICES OF THE i8oa

humiliation he had ever known to the coldness with
which his mother had received his caresses in in-
fancy, and the frequent taunts on his personal
deformity with which she had wounded him.

The sympathy of a sister's love, of all the influ-
ences on the mind of a youth the most softening,
was also, in his early days, denied to him, — his sister
Augusta and he having seen but little of each other
while young. A vent through the calm channel of
domestic affections might have brought down the
high current of his feelings to a level nearer that of
the world he had to traverse, and thus saved them
from the tumultuous rapids and falls to which this
early elevation, in their after-course, exposed them.
In the dearth of all home-endearments, his heart had
no other resource but in those boyish friendships
which he formed at school ; and when these were
interrupted by his removal to Cambridge, he was
again thrown back, isolated, on his own restless de-
sires. Then followed his ill-fated attachment to
Miss Chaworth, to which, more than to any other
cause, he himself attributed the desolating change
then wrought in his disposition.

" I doubt sometimes (he says, in his ' Detached
Thoughts,') v/hether, after all, a quiet and un-
agitated life would have suited me ; yet I sometimes
long for it. My earliest dreams (as most boys'
dreams are) were martial ; but a little later they
were all for love and retirement, till the hopeles--
attachment to M * * * C * * * began and continuea
(though sedulously concealed) very early in my
teens; and so upwards for a time. This threw me

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 257

out again ' alone on a wide, wide sea.' In the year
1804 I recollect meeting my sister at General Har-
court's, in Portland Place. I was then one thing, and
as she had always till then found me. When we
met again in 1805 (she told me since) that my tem-
per and disposition were so completely altered,
that I was hardly to be recognised. I was not then
sensible of the change ; but I can believe it, and
account for it."

I have already described his parting with Miss
Chaworth previously to her marriage. Once again,
after that event, he saw her, and for the last time,
— being invited by Mr. Chaworth to dine at An-
nesley not long before his departure from England.
The few years that had elapsed since their last meet-
ing had made a considerable change in the appear-
ance and manners of the young poet. The fat,
unformed schoolboy was now a slender and graceful
young man. Those emotions and passions which
at first heighten, and then destroy, beauty, had
as yet produced only their favourable effects on his
features ; and, though with but little aid from the
example of refined society, his manners had sub-
sided into that tone of gentleness and self-possession
which more than any thing marks the well-bred gen-
tleman. Once only was the latter of these qualities
put to the trial, when the little daughter of his fair
hostess was brought into the room. At the sight of
the child he started involuntarily, — it was with the
utmost difficulty he could conceal his emotion ; and
to the sensations of that moment we are indebted
for those touching stanzas, " Well — thou art happy,"

VOL. I. s

258 NOTICES OF THE 1S09.

Sec.*, which appeared afterwards in a Miscellany
published by one of his friends, and are now to be
found in the general collection of his works. Under
the influence of the same despondent passion, he
wrote two other poems at this period, from which,
as they exist only in the Miscellany I have just
alluded to, and that collection has for some time
been out of print, a few stanzas may, not improperly,
be extracted here.

" THE FAREWELL — TO A LADY, f

" When man, expeU'd from Eden's bowers,
A moment linger'd near the gate,
Each scene recall'd the vanish 'd liours.
And bade him curse his future fate.

'• But wandering on through distant climes,
He learnt to beaj- liis load of grief ;
Just gave a sigli to other times,
And found in busier scenes relief.

" Thus, lady |, must it be with me,

And I must view thy charms no more !
For, whilst I linger near to thee,

I sigh for all I knew before," &c. &c.

The other poem is, throughout, full of tender-
ness ; but I shall give only what appear to me the
most striking stanzas.

* Dated, in his original copy, Nov. 2. 1808.

f Entitled, in his original manuscript, " To Mrs. * * *, on
being asked my reason for quitting England in the spring."
The date subjoined is Dec. 2. 1808.

I 111 his first copy, " Thus, Mary/'

1S09. LIFE OF LORD BYHON. . 259

" STANZAS TO * * * ON LEAVING ENGLAND.

" 'Tis done — and shivering in the gale
The bark unfurls her snowy sail ;
And whistling o'er the bending mast,
Loud sings on high the fresh'ning blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one,

" As some lone bird, without a mate.
My weary heart is desolate ;
I look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile or welcome face.
And ev'n in crowds am still alone.
Because I cannot love but one.

" And I will cross the whitening foam,
And I will seek a foreign home ;
Till I forget a false fair face,
I ne'er shall find a resting-place ;
My own dark thoughts I cannot shun.
But ever love, and love but one.

" I go — but wheresoe'er I flee

There's not an eye will weep for me ;
There's not a kind congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part ;
Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,
Wilt sigh, although I love but one.

" To think of every early scene.

Of what we are, and what we've been,
Would whelm some softer liearts with woe —
But mine, alas ! has stood the blow ;
Yet still beats on as it begun.
And never truly loves but one.

s 2

260 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

" And who that dear loved one may be
Is not for vulgar eyes to see,
And why that early love was crost,
Thou know'st the best, I feel the most ;
But few that dwell beneath the sun
Have loved so long, and loved but one,

" I've tried another's fetters, too,

With charms, perchance, as fair to view ;
And I would fain have loved as well.
But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.

" ' Twould soothe to take one lingering view,
And bless thee in my last adieu ;
Yet wish I not those eyes to weep
For him that wanders o'er the deep ;
His home, his hope, his youth, are gone,
Yet still he loves, and loves but one." *

While thus, in all the relations of the heart, his
thirst after affection was thwarted, in another instinct
of his nature, not less strong — the desire of emi-
nence and distinction — he was, in an equal degree,
checked in his aspirings, and mortified. The in-
adequacy of his means to his station was early a
source of embarrassment and humiliation to him ;
and those high, patrician notions of birth in which
he indulged but made the disparity between his for-
tune and his rank the more galling. Ambition,
however, soon whispered to him that there were

* Thus corrected by himself in a copy of the Miscellany
now in my possession ; — the two last lines being, originally,
as follows : —

" Though wheresoe'er my bark may run,
I love but thee, I love but one."

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 261

Other and nobler ways to distinction. The eminence
which talent builds for itself might, one day, he
proudly felt, be his own ; nor was it too sanguine to
hope that, under the flivour accorded usually to
youth, he might with impunity venture on his first
steps to fame. But here, as in every other object
of his heart, disappointment and mortification awaited
him. Instead of experiencing the ordinary forbear-
ance, if not indulgence, with which young aspirants
for fame are received by their critics, he found
himself instantly the victim of such unmeasured
severity as is not often dealt out even to vetei*an
offenders in literature ; and, with a heart fresh from
the trials of disappointed love, saw those resources
and consolations which he had sought in the ex-
ercise of his intellectual strength also invaded.

While thus prematurely broken into the pains of
life, a no less darkening effect was produced upon
him by too early an initiation into its pleasures.
That charm with which the fancy of youth invests
an untried world was, in his case, soon dissipated.
His passions had, at the very onset of their career,
forestalled the future ; and the blank void that fol-
lowed was by himself considered as one of the
causes of that melancholy, which now settled so
deeply into his character.

" My passions" (he says, in his ' Detached
Thoughts ') " were developed very early — so early
that iew would believe me if I were to state the
period and the facts which accompanied it. Per-
haps this was one of the reasons which caused the
anticipated melancholy of my thoughts, — having

s 3

262 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

anticipated life. My earlier poems are the thoughts
of one at least ten years older than the age at which
they were written, — I don't mean for their solidity,
but their experience. The two first Cantos of Childe
Harold were completed at twenty-two ; and they
are written as if by a man older than I shall probably
ever be."

Though the allusions in the first sentence of this
extract have reference to a much earlier period,
they afford an opportunity of remarking, that how-
ever dissipated may have been the life which he led
during the two or three years previous to his de-
parture on his travels, yet the notion caught up by
many, from his own allusions, in Childe Harold, to
irregularities and orgie-s af which Newstead had
been the scene, iz, like most other imputations
against him, founded on his own testimony, greatly
exaggerated. He describes, it is well known, the
home of his poetical representative as a " monastic
dome, condemned to uses vile," and then adds, —

" Where Superstition once had made her den.

Now Paphian girls were known to sing and smile."

Mr. Dallas, too, giving in to the same strain of
exaggeration, says, in speaking of the poet's prepar-
ations for his departure, " already satiated with
pleasure, and disgusted with those companions who
have no other resource, he had resolved on master-
ing his appetites; — he broke up hisharams." The
truth, however, is, that the narrowness of Lord
Byron's means would alone have prevented such
oriental luxuries. The mode of his life at Newstead
was simple and unexpensive. His companions, though

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 263

not averse to convivial indulgences, were of habits
and tastes too intellectual for mere vulgar de-
bauchery ; and, with respect to the alleged " ha-
rams," it appears certain that one or two suspected
" subintroductce " (as the ancient monks of the
abbey would have styled them), and those, too,
among the ordinary menials of the establishment,
were all that even scandal itself could ever fix upon
to warrant such an assumption.

That gaming was among his follies at this period
he himself tells us in the journal I have just
cited : —

" I have a notion (he says) that gamblers are as
happy as many people, being always excited. Wo-
men, wine, fame, the table, — even ambition, sale
now and then ; but every turn of the card and cast
of the dice keeps the gamester alive: besides, one
can game ten times longer than one can do any
thing else. I was very fond of it when young, that
is to say, of hazard, for I hate all card games, —
even faro. When macco (or whatever they spell it)
was introduced, I gave up the whole thing, for I
loved and missed the rattle and dash of the box and
dice, and the glorious uncertainty, not only of good
luck or bad luck, but of any luck at all, as one had
sometimes to throw often to decide at all. I have
thrown as many as fourteen mains running, and
carried off all the cash upon the table occasionally ;
but I had no coolness, or judgment, or calculation.
It was the delight of the thing that pleased me. Upon
the whole, I left off in time, without being much a
winner or loser. Since one-and-twenty years of age

s 4

264 NOTICES OF THE

1809.

I played but little, and then never above a hundred,
or two, or three."

To this, and other follies of the same period, he
alludes in the following note : —

TO MR. WILLIAM BANKES.

" Twelve o'clock, Friday night.
" My dear Bankes,

" I have just received your note ; believe me I
regret most sincerely that I was not fortunate
enough to see it before, as I need not repeat to you
that your conversation for half an hour would have
been much more agreeable to me than gambling or
drinking, or any other fashionable mode of passing

an evening abroad or at home I really am very

sorry that I went out previous to the arrival of your
despatch : in future pray let me hear from you
before six, and whatever my engagements may be,

I will always postpone them Believe me, with

that deference which I have always from my child-
hood paid to your talents, and with somewhat a
better opinion of your heart than I have hitherto
entertained,

" Yours ever," &c.

Among the causes — if not rather among the re-
sults— of that disposition to melancholy, which,
after all, perhaps, naturally belonged to his tempera-
ment, must not be forgotten those sceptical views of
religion, which clouded, as has been shown, his boyish
thoughts, and, at the time of which I am speaking,
gathered still more darkly over his mind. In general

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 265

we find the young too ardently occupied with the
enjoyments which this life gives or promises to afford
either leisure or inclination for much enquiry into
the mysteries of the next. But with him it was
unluckily otherwise ; and to have, at once, antici-
pated the worst experience both of the voluptuary
and the reasoner, — to have reached, as he sup-
posed, the boundary of this world's pleasures, and
see nothing but " clouds and darkness" beyond, was
the doom, the anomalous doom, which a nature, pre-
mature in all its passions and powers, inflicted on
Lord Byron.

When Pope, at the age of five-and-twenty, com-
plained of being weary of the world, he was told by
Swift that he " had not yet acted or suffered enough
in the world to have become weary of it *." But
far different was the youth of Pope and of Byron ;
— what the former but anticipated in thought, the
latter had drunk deep of in reality ; — at an age when
the one was but looking forth on the sea of life, the
other had plunged in, and tried its depths. Swift
himself, in whom early disappointments and wrongs
had opened a vein of bitterness that never again
closed, affords a far closer parallel to the fate of our
noble poetf , as well in the untimeliness of the trials

* 1 give the words as Johnson has reported them ; — in
Swift's own letter they are, if I recollect rlglit, rather
different.

f There is, at least, one striking point of similarity between
tlieir characters in the disposition which Johnson has thus
attributed to Swift : — " The suspicions of Swift's irreligion,"
he says, " proceeded, in a great ineasurc, from his dread of
hypocrisy ; instead of wishing to seem better, he delighted in
scemin" worse then he wets."

266 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

he had been doomed to encounter, as in the traces
of their liavoc which they left in his character.

That the romantic fancy of youth, which courts
melancholy as an indulgence, and loves to assume a
sadness it has not had time to earn, may have had
some share in, at least, fostering the gloom by which
the mind of the young poet was overcast, I am not
disposed to deny. The circumstance, indeed, of his
having, at this time, among the ornaments of his
study, a number of skulls highly polished, and placed
on light stands round the room, would seem to in-
dicate that he rather courted than shunned such
gloomy associations. * Being a sort of boyish mi-
mickry, too, of the use to which the poet Young is
said to have applied a skull, such a display might
well induce some suspicion of the sincerity of his
gloom, did we not, through the whole course of his
subsequent life and writings, track visibly the deep
vein of melancholy which nature had imbedded in
his character.

Such was the state of mind and heart, — as, from
his own testimony and that of others, I have collected
it, — in which Lord Byron now set out on his inde-

* Another use to which he appropriated one of the skulls
found in digging at Newstead was the having it mounted in
silver, and converted into a drinking-cup. This whim has
been commemorated in some well-known verses of his own ;
and the cup itself, which, apart from any revolting ideas it may
excite, forms by no means an inelegant object to the eye, is,
with many other interesting relics of Lord Byron, in the pos-
session of the present proprietor of Newstead Abbey, Colonel
Wildman.

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON-. 267

finite pilgrimage ; and never was there a change
wrought in disposition and character to which Shak-
speare's fancy of" sweet bells jangled out of tune"
more truly applied. The unwillingness of Lord Car-
lisle to countenance him, and his humiliating posi-
tion in consequence, completed the full measure of
that mortification towards which so many other
causes had concurred. Baffled, as he had been, in
his own ardent pursuit of affection and friendship,
his sole revenge and consolation lay in doubting that
any such feelings really existed. The various crosses
he had met with, in themselves sufficiently irritating
and wounding, were rendered still more so by the
high, impatient temper with which he encountered
them. What others would have bowed to, as mis-
fortunes, his proud spirit rose against, as wrongs ;
and the vehemence of this re-action produced, at
once, a revolution throughout his whole character *,
in which, as in revolutions of the political world, all
that was bad and irregular in his nature burst forth
with all that was most energetic and grand. The
very virtues and excellencies of his disposition
ministered to the violence of this change. The
same ardour that had burned through his friendships
and loves now fed the fierce explosions of his indig-

* Rousseau appears to have been conscious of a similar
sort of change in his own nature : — " They have laboured
without intermission," he says, in a letter to Madame de
Boufflers, " to give to my heart, and, perhaps, at the same
time to my genius, a spring and stimulus of action, which tlicy
have not inherited from nature. I was born weak, — ill
treatment has made me strong." — Hume's Private Cor-
respondence.

268 NOTICES OF THE

1809.

nation and scorn. His natural vivacity and humour
but lent a fresher flow to his bitterness *, till he, at
last, revelled in it as an indulgence ; and that hatred
of hypocrisy, which had hitherto only shown itself
in a too shadowy colouring of his own youthful frail-
ties, now hurried him, from his horror of all false
pretensions to virtue, into the still more dangerous
boast and ostentation of vice.

The following letter to his mother, written a few
daj'^s before he sailed, gives some particulars respect-
ing the persons who composed his suit. Robert
Rushton, whom he mentions so feelingly in the post-
script, was the boy introduced, as his page, in the
first Canto of Childe Harold.

LETTEa 34. TO MRS. BYRON.

" Falmouth, June 22. 1809.
"Dear Mother,

" I am about to sail in a few days ; probably be-
fore this reaches you. Fletcher begged so hard,
that I have continued him in my service. If he
does not behave well abroad, I will send him back
in a transport. I have a German servant, (who has
been with Mr. Wilbraham in Persia before, and was
strongly recommended to me by Dr. Butler, of Har-
row,) Robert and William ; they constitute my
whole suite. I have letters in plenty: — you shall
hear from me at the different ports I touch upon ;
but you must not be alarmed if my letters miscarry.

* " It was bitterness that they mistook for frolic." — John-
son's account of himself at the university, in Boswell,

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 269

The Continent is in a fine state — an insurrection has
broken out at Paris, and the Austrians are beating
Buonaparte — the Tyrolese have risen.

" There is a picture of me in oil, to be sent down
to Newstead soon. — I wish the Miss P * * s had
something better to do than carry my miniatures to
Nottingham to copy. Now they have done it, you
may ask them to copy the others, which are greater
favourites than my own. As to money matters, I
am ruined — at least till Rochdale is sold ; and if
that does not turn out well, I shall enter into the
Austrian or Russian service — perhaps the Turkish,
if 1 like their manners. The world is all before me,
and I leave England without regret, and without a
wish to revisit any thing it contains, except yourself,
and your present residence.

" P.S. — Pray tell Mr. Rushton his son is well and
doing well ; so is Murray, indeed better than I ever
saw him ; he will be back in about a month. I ought
to add the leaving Murray to my ?e\v regrets, as his
age perhaps will prevent my seeing him again.
Robert I take with me ; I like him, because, like
myself, he seems a friendless animal."

To those who have in their remembrance his poet-
ical description of the state of mind in which he now
took leave of England, the gaiety and levity of the
letters I am about to give will appear, it is not im-
probable, strange and startling. But, in a tempera-
ment like that of Lord Byron, such bursts of vivacity
on the surface are by no means incompatible with a

270 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

wounded spirit underneath* ; and the hght, laughing
tone that pervades these letters but makes the feeling
of" solitariness that breaks out in them the more strik-
ing and affecting.

Letter 35. TO MR. HENRY DRURY.

« Falmouth, June 25. 1809.

My dear Drury,

" We sail to-morrow in the Lisbon packet,
having been detained till now by the lack of wind,
and other necessaries. These being at last procured,
by this time to-morrow evening we shall be embark-
ed on the «?ide ^•orld of ^'aters, I'or all the ?;orld like
Robinson Crusoe. The Malta vessel not sailing for
some weeks, we have determined to go by way of
Lisbon, and, as my servants term it, to see ' that
there Portingale' — thence to Cadiz and Gibraltar,
and so on our old route to Malta and Constantinople,
if so be that Captain Kidd, our gallant commander,
imderstands plain sailing and Mercator, and takes us
on our voyage all according to the chart.

" Will you tell Dr. Butler f that I have taken the

* The poet Cowper, it is well known, produced that master-
piece of humour, John Gilpin, during one of his fits of morbid
dejection ; and he himself says, " Strange as it may seem, the
most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in tlie
saddest mood, and but for tliat saddest mood, perhaps, had
never been written at all."

f The reconciliation which took place between him and
Dr. Butler, before his departure, is one of those instances of
placability and pliableness with which his life abounded.
We have seen, too, from the manner in which he mentions the

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 271

treasure of a servant, Friese, the native of Prussia
Proper, into my service from his recommendation.
He has been ail among tlie Worshippers of Fire in
Persia, and has seen Persepolis and all that.

" H * * has made woundy preparations for a book
on his return; 100 pens, two gallons of japan ink,
and several volumes of best blank, is no bad provi-
sion for a discerning public. I have laid down my

circumstance in one of his note-books, that the reconcilement
was of that generously retrospective kind, in which not only
the feeling of hostility is renounced in future, but a strong
regret expressed that it had been ever entertained.

Not content with this private atonement to Dr. Butler, it was
his intention, had he published another edition of the Hours of
Idleness, to substitute for the offensive verses against that
gentleman, a frank avowal of the wrong he had been guilty of
in giving vent to them. This fact, so creditalile to the candour
of his nature, I learn from a loose sheet in his hand-writing,
containing the following corrections. In place of the passage
beginning " Or if my Muse a pedant's portrait drew," he
meant to insert —

" If once my Muse a harsher portrait drew,

"Warm with her wrongs, and deem'd the likeness true.
By cooler judgment taught, her fault she owns, —
With noble minds a fault, confess'd, atones."

And to the passage immediately succeeding his warm praise of
Dr. Drury — " Pomposus fills his magisterial chair," it was
his intention to give the following turn : —

" Another fills his magisterial chair ;
Reluctant Ida owns a stranger's care ;
Oh may like honours crown his future name, ■—
If such liis virtues, such sliall be his fame."

272 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

pen, but have promised to contribute a chapter on
the state of morals, &c. &c.

" The cock is crowing,
I must be going,
And can no more."

Ghost of Gaffer Thumb.

" Adieu. — Believe me," &c. &c.

Letter 36. TO MR. HODGSON.

" Falmouth, June 25. 1809.
" My dear Hodgson,

" Before this reaches you, Hobhouse, two offi-
cers' wives, three children, two waiting- maids, ditto
subalterns for the troops, three Portuguese esquires
and domestics, in all nineteen souls, will have sailed
in the Lisbon packet, with the noble Captain Kidd,
a gallant commander as ever smuggled an anker of
right Nantz.

" We are going to Lisbon first, because the Malta
packet has sailed, d'ye see ? — from Lisbon to Gibral-
tar, Malta, Constantinople, and ' all that,' as Orator
Henley said, when he put the Church, and ' all that,'
in danger.

"This town of Falmouth, as you will partly
conjecture, is no great ways from the sea. It is
defended on the sea-side by tway castles, St. Maws
and Pendennis, extremely well calculated for annoy-
ing every body except an enemy. St. Maws is garri-
soned by an able-l3odied person of fourscore, a
widower. He has the whole command and sole
management of six most unmanageable pieces of
ordnance, admirably adapted for the destruction of

1809. LIFE OP LORD BYRON. 273

Pendennis, a like tower of strength on the opposite
side of the Channel. We have seen St. Maws, but
Pendennis they will not let us behold, save at a dis-
tance, because Hobhouse and I are suspected oi'
having already taken St. Maws by a coup de main.

" The town contains many Quakers and salt fish
— the oysters have a taste of copper, owing to the
soil of a mining country — the women (blessed be
the Corporation therefor !) are flogged at the cart's
tail when they pick and steal, as happened to one of
the fair sex yesterday noon. She was pertinacious
in her behaviour, and damned the mayor.

" I don't know when I can write again, because it
depends on that experienced navigator, Captain
Kidd, and the * stormy winds that (don't) blow ' at
this season. I leave England without regret — I
shall return to it without pleasure. I am like Adam,
the first convict sentenced to transportation, but
I have no Eve, and have eaten no apple but what
was sour as a crab ; — and thus ends my first
chapter. Adieu.

" Yours," &c.

In this letter the following lively verses were en-
closed : —

" Falmouth Roads, June 30. 1809.
" Huzza ! Hodgson, we are going,
Our embargo's off" at last ;
Favourable breezes blowing

Bend the canvass o'er the mast.

From aloft the signal 's streaming,

Hark ! the farewell gun is fired.

Women screeching, tars blaspheming,

Tell us that our time's expired,

VOL. I. T

27-1 NOTICES OF THK 1809.

Here 's a rascal,
Come to task all,
Prying from the Custom-house ;
Trunks unpacking,
Cases cracking,
Not a corner for a mouse
' Scapes unsearch'd amid the racket,
Ere we sail on board the Packet.

" Xow our boatmen quit their mooring
And all hands must ply the oar ;
Baggage from the quay is lowering,

We're impatient — push from shore.
♦ Have a care ! that case holds liquor —

Stop the boat — I'm sick — oh Lord ! '
' Sick, ma'am, damme, you '11 be sicker
Ere you 've been an hour on board.'
Thus are screaming
Men and women,
Gemmen, ladies, servants, Jacks ;
Here entangling.
All are wrangling.
Stuck together close as wax. —
Such the general noise and racket,
Ere we reach the Lisbon Packet.

" Now we've reach'd her, lo ! the captain.
Gallant Kidd, commands the crew ;
Passengers their berths are clapt in.

Some to grumble, some to spew,
' Hey day ! call you that a cabin ?

Why 'tis hardly three feet square ;
Not enough to stow Queen Mab in — .
Who the deuce can harbour there?'
' Who, sir ? plenty —
Nobles twenty

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYUON. 275

Did at once my vessel fill' —
' Did they ? Jesus,
How you squeeze us !
Would to God they did so still :
Then I'd scape the heat and racket,
Of the good ship, Lisbon Packet.'

" Fletcher ! Murray ! Bob ! where are you ?
Stretch'd along the deck like logs —
Bear a hand, you jolly tar, you !

Here's a rope's end for the dogs.
H * * muttering fearful curses,

As the hatchway down he rolls ;
Now his breakfast, now his verses.
Vomits fortli — and damns our souls.
' Here's a stanza
On Braganza —
Help !' — 'A couplet ? * — ' No, a cup
Of warm water.' —
' What's the matter ? '
' Zounds! my liver's coming up;
I shall not survive the racket
Of this brutal Lisbon Packet.'

" Now at length we're off for Turkey,

Lord knows when we sliall come back !
Breezes foul and tempests murky

May unship us in a crack.
But, since life at most a jest is,

As philosophers allow.
Still to laugh by far the best is,
Then laugh on — as I do now.
Laugh at all things,
Great and small things
Sick or well, at sea or shore ;
While we're quaffing.
Let's have laughing —
Who tlie (k'vil cares for more ? —
T 2

r>

273 NOTICES OF THE 1S09.

Some good wine ! and who would lack it,
Ev'n on board the Libbon Packet ?

«' Byiion."

On the second of July the packet sailed from Fal-
mouth, and, aftei' a favourable passage of four days
and a half, the voyagers reached Lisbon, and took
up their abode in that city.*

The following letters, from Lord Byron to his
friend Mr. Hodgson, though written in his most
light and schoolboy strain, will give some idea of
the first impressions that his residence in Lisbon
made upon him. Such letters, too, contrasted with
the noble stanzas on Portugal in " Childe Harold,"
will show how various were the moods of his versa-

* Lord Byron used sometimes to mention a strange stoiy,
which the commander of the packet, Captain Kidd, related to
him on the passage. This officer stated that, being asleep one
night in his berth, he was awakened by the pressure of some-
thing heavy on his limbs, and, there being a faint light in the
room, could see, as he thought, distinctly, the figure of his
brother, who was at that time in tl)e naval service in the East
Indies, dressed in his uniform, and stretched across the bed.
Concluding it to be an illusion of the senses, he shut his eyes
and made an effort to sleep. But still the same pressure con-
tinued, and still, as often as he ventured to take another look,
he saw the figure lying across him in the same position. To
add to the wonder, on putting his hand forth to touch tliis form,
he found the uniform, in which it appeared to be dressed,
dripping wet. On the entrance of one of his brother officers,
to whom he called out in alarm, the apparition vanished ; but
in a few months after he received the startling intelligence tliat
on that night his brother had been drowned in the Indian seas.
Of the supernatural character of this appearance. Captain
Kidd himself did not appear to have the slightest doubt.

1S09. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 277

tile mind, and what different aspects it could take
when in repose or on the wing.

Letters?. TO MR. HODGSON.

" Lisbon, July 1 6. 1 809.

*' Thus far have we pursued our route, and seen
all sorts of marvellous sights, palaces, convents, &c. ;
— which, being to be heard in my friend Hobhouse's
forthcoming Book of Travels, I shall not anticipate
by smugghng any account whatsoever to you in a
private and clandestine manner. I must just observe,
that the village of Cintra in Estremadura is the most
beautiful, perhaps, in the world.

" I am very happy here, because I loves oranges,
and talk bad Latin to the monks, who understand it,
as it is like their own, — and I goes into society
(with my pocket-pistols), and I swims in the Tagus
all across at once, and I rides on an ass or a mule,
and swears Portuguese, and have got a diarrhoea and
bites from the musquitoes. But what of that?
Comfort must not be expected by folks that go a
pleasuring.

" When the Portuguese are pertinacious, I say,
* Carracho I' — the great oath of the grandees, that
very well supplies the place of 'Damme,' — and,
when dissatisfied with my neighbour, I pronounce
him ' Ambra di merdo. ' With these two phrases,
and a third, ' Avra bouro,' which signifieth ' Get an
ass,' I am universally understood to be a person of
degree and a master of languages. How merrily
we lives that travellers be ! — if we had food and
raiment. But in sober sadness, any thing is better

278 NOTICES OF THE

1809.

than England, and I am infinitely amused with my
pilgrimage as far as it has gone.

" To-morrow we start to ride post near 400 miles
as far as Gibraltar, where we embark for Melita and
Byzantium. A letter to Malta will find me, or to be
forwarded, if I am absent. Pray embrace the Drury
and Dwyer, and all the Ephesians you encounter. I
am writing with Butler's donative pencil, which
makes my bad hand worse. Excuse illegibility.

" Hodgson ! send me the news, and the deaths
and defeats and capital crimes and the misfortunes
of one's friends ; and let us hear of literary matters,
and the controversies and the criticisms. All this
will be pleasant — ' Suave mari magno,' &c. Talking
of that, I have been sea-sick, and sick of the sea.
" Adieu. Yours faithfully," Sec.

Letter 38. TO MR. HODGSON.

« Gibraltar, Augusts. 1S09.

" I have just arrived at this place after a journey
through Portugal, and a part of Spain, of nearly 500
miles. We left Lisbon and travelled on horseback *
to Seville and Cadiz, and thence in the Hyperion
frigate to Gibraltar. The horses are excellent —
we rode seventy miles a day. Eggs and wine, and
hard beds, are all the accommodation we found, and,
in such torrid weather, quite enough. My health is
better than in England.

" Seville is a fine town, and the Sierra Morena,

*
Gibraltar,

The baggage and part of the servants were sent by sea to

J809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 279

part of which we crossed, a very sufficient mountain ;
but damn description, it is ahvays disgusting. Cadiz,
sweet Cadiz ! — it is the first spot in the creation.
The beauty of its streets and mansions is only excelled
by the loveHness of its inhabitants. For, with all
national prejudice, I must confess the women of
Cadiz are as far superior to the English women in
beauty as the Spaniards are inferior to the English
in every quality that dignifies the name of man.
Just as I began to know the principal persons of the
city, I was obliged to sail.

" You will not expect a long letter after my riding
so far ' on hollow pampered jades of Asia.' Talking
of Asia puts me in mind of Africa, which is within
five miles of my present residence. 1 am going
over before I go on to Constantinople.

" Cadiz is a complete Cythera. Many of the
grandees who have left Madrid during the troubles
reside there, and I do believe it is the prettiest and
cleanest town in Europe. London is filthy in the
comparison. The Spanish women are all alike,
their education the same. The wife of a duke is,
in information, as the wife of a peasant, — the wife
of a peasant, in manner, equal to a duchess. Cer-
tainly they are fascinating; but their minds have
only one idea, and the business of their lives is
intrigue.

" I have seen Sir John Carr at Seville and Cadiz,
and, like Swift's barber, have been down on my
knees to beg he would not put me into black and
white. Pray remember me to the Drurj^s and the
Davies, and all of that stamp who are yet ex-

7 4'

280 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

tant. * Send me a letter and news to Malta. My next
epistle shall be from Mount Caucasus or Mount
Sion. I shall return to Spain before I see England,
for I am enamoured of the country. Adieu, and
believe me," &c.

In a letter to Mrs. Byron, dated a few days later,
from Gibraltar, he recapitulates the same account of
his progress, only dwelling rather more diffusely on
some of the details. Thus, of Cintra and Mafra : —
" To make amends for thisf, the village of Cintra,
about fifteen miles from the capital, is, perhaps in
every respect, the most delightful in Europe ; it
contains beauties of every description, natural and
artificial. Palaces and gardens rising in the midst
of rocks, cataracts, and precipices ; convents on
stupendous heights — a distant view of the sea and
the Tagus ; and, besides (though that is a secondary
consideration), is remarkable as the scene of Sir H.
D.'s Convention. -^ It unites in itself all the wild-

* " This sort of passage," says Mr. Hodgson, in a note on
his copy of this letter, " constantly occurs in his correspond-
ence. Nor was his interest confined to mere remembrances
and enquiries after health. Were it possible to state all he has
done for numerous friends, he would appear amiable indeed.
For myself, I am bound to acknowledge, in the fullest and
warmest manner, his most generous and well-timed aid ; and,
were my poor friend Bland alive, he would as gladly bear
the like testimony ; — though 1 have most reason, of all men,
to do so."

t The filthiness of Lisbon and its inhabitants.

I Colonel Napier, in a note in his able History of the
Peninsular War, notices the mistake into which Lord Byron

1809. LIFE OF LOUD BYRON. 281

ness of the western highlands, with the verdure of
the south of France. Near this place, about ten
miles to the right, is the palace of Mafra, the boast
of Portugal, as it might be of any other country, in
point of magnificence without elegance. There is
a convent annexed ; the monks, who possess large
revenues, are courteous enough, and understand
Latin, so that we had a long conversation : they
have a large library, and asked me if the English
had any books in their country?"

Aa adventure which he met with at Seville,
characteristic both of the country and of himself, is
thus described in the same letter to Mrs. Byron : —

" We lodged in the house of two Spanish unmar-
ried ladies, who possess six houses in Seville, and
gave me a curious specimen of Spanish manners.
They are women of character, and the eldest a fine
woman, the youngest pretty, but not so good a figure
as Donna Josepha. The freedom of manner, which
is general here, astonished me not a little ; and in
the course of further observation, I find that re-
serve is not the characteristic of the Spanish belles,
who are, in general, very handsome, with large black
eyes, and very fine forms. The eldest honoured
your iiniooriliy son with very particular attention,
embracing him with great tenderness at parting (I
was there but three days), after cutting off a lock of

and others were led on this subject ; — the signature of the
Convention, as v/ell as all tlie other proceedings connected
with it, having taken place at a distance of thirty miles from
Cintra.

282 KOTICES OF THE 1809.

Ins hair, and presenting him with one of her own,
about three feet in length, which I send, and beg
you will retain till my return. Her last words were,
' Adios, tu hermoso ! me gusto mucho.' — 'Adieu,
you pretty fellow ! you please me much.' She
offered me a share of her apartment, which my
virtue induced me to decline ; she laughed, and said
I had some English " amante " (lover), and added
that she was going to be married to an officer in the
Spanish army."

Among the beauties of Cadiz, his imagination,
dazzled by the attractions of the many, was on the
point, it would appear from the following, of being
fixed by one : —

" Cadiz, sweet Cadiz, is the most delightful town
I ever beheld, very different from our English cities
in every respect except cleanliness (and it is as clean
as London), but still beautiful and full of the finest
women in Spain, the Cadiz belles being the Lan-
cashire witches of their land. Just as I was intro-
duced and began to like the grandees, I was forced
to leave it for this cursed place ; but before I retuin
to England I will visit it again.

"^ The night before I left it, I sat in the box at
the opera, with admiral * * * 's family, an aged wife
and a fine daughter, Sennorita * * *. The girl is
very pretty, in the Spanish style ; in my opinion, by
no means inferior to the English in charms, and cer-
tainly superior in fascination. Long, black hair,
dark languishing eyes, clear olive complexions, and
forms more graceful in motion than can be conceived
by an Englishman used to the drowsy listless air of

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 283

liis countrywomen, added to the most becoming
dress, and, at the same time, the most decent in the
world, render a Spanish beauty irresistible.

" Miss * * * and her little brother understood a
little French, and, after regretting my ignorance of
the Spanish, she proposed to become my preceptress
in that language. I could only reply by a low bow,
and express my regret that I quitted Cadiz too soon
to permit me to make the progress which would
doubtless attend my studies under so charming a
directress. I was standing at the back of the box,
which resembles our Opera boxes, (the theatre is
large and finely decorated, the music admirable,) in
the manner which Englishmen general!}' adopt,
for fear of incommoding the ladies in front, when
this fair Spaniard dispossessed an old woman (an
aunt or a duenna) of her chair, and commanded me
to be seated next herself, at a tolerable distance
from her mamma. At the close of the performance
I withdrew, and was lounging with a party of men
in the passage, when, en passant, the lady turned
round and called me, and I had the honour of at-
tending her to the admiral's mansion. I have an
invitation on my return to Cadiz, which I shall
accept if I repass through the country on my return
from Asia."

To these adventures, or rather glimpses of adven-
tures, which he met with in his hasty passage
through Spain, he adverted, I recollect, briefly, in
the early part of his " Memoranda ;"' and it was the
younger, I think, of his fair hostesses at Seville,
whom he there described himself as making earnest

28-1 xVOTICES OF THE 1809.

love to, with the help of a dictionary. " For some
lime," he said, " I went on prosperously both as a
linguist and a lover *, till at length, the lady took a
t'ancy to a ring which I wore, and set her heart on
my giving it to her, as a pledge of my sincerity.
This, however, could not be; — anything but the ring,
I declared, was at her service, and much more
than its value, — but the ring itself I had made a
vow never to give away." The young Spaniard
grew angry as the contention went on, and it was
not long before the lover became angry also ; till, at
length, the affair ended by their separating unsuc-
cessful on both sides. " Soon after this, " said he,
'^ I sailed for Malta, and there parted with both my
heart and ring."

In the letter from Gibraltar, just cited, he adds
— "I am going over to Africa to-morrow ; it is only
six miles from this fortress. My next stage is Cag-
liari in Sardinia, where I shall be presented to his
majesty. I have a most superb uniform as a court-
dress, indispensable in travelling." His plan of visit-
ing Africa was, however, relinquished. After a
short stay at Gibraltar, during which he dined one
day with Lady Westmoreland, and another with
General Castanos, he, on the 19th of August, took
his departure for Malta, in the packet, having first
sent Joe Murray and young Rushton back to Eng-

* We find an allusion to this incident in Don Juan : —

" 'Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue
By female lips and eyes — that is, I mean,
When both the teacher and the taught are young,

As was the case, at least, where I have been," &c. Sec,

1S09. LIFE OF LORD BYROK. 285

land, — the latter being unable, from ill health, to
accompany him any further. " Pray," he says to
his mother, " show the lad every kindness, as he is
my great favourite." *

He also wrote a letter to the father of the boy,
which gives so favourable an impression of his
thoughtfulness and kindliness that I have much
pleasure in being enabled to introduce it here.

Letter 39. TO MR. RUSH TON.

" Gibraltar, August 15. 1809.
« Mr. Rushton,

" I have sent Robert home with Mr. Murray,
because the country which I am about to travel
through is in a state which renders it unsafe, parti-
cularly for one so young. I allow you to deduct
five-and-twenty pounds a year for his education for
three years, provided I do not return before that
time, and I desire he may be considered as in my
service. Let every care be taken of him, and let
him be sent to school. In case of my death I have
provided enough in my will to render him inde-
pendent. He has behaved extremely well, and has
travelled a great deal for the time of his absence.
Deduct the expense of his education from your rent

" Byron."

* The postscript to this letter is as follows : —
" P. S. So Lord G. is married to a rustic ! Well done ! If
I wed, I will bring you home a sultana, with half a dozen
cities for a dowry, and reconcile you to an Ottoman daughter-
in-law with a bushel of pearls, not larger than ostrich eggs, or
smaller than walnuts."

286 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

It was the fate of Lord Byron, throughout life, to
meet, wherever he went, with persons who, by some
tinge of the extraordinary in their own fates or cha-
racters, were prepared to enter, at once, into full
sympathy with his ; and to this attraction, by which
he drew towards him all strange and eccentric spirits,
he owed some of the most agreeable connections of
his life, as well as some of the most troublesome. Of
the former description was an intimacy which he
now cultivated during his short sojourn at Malta.
The lady with whom he formed this acquaintance was
the same addressed by him under the name of
" Florence " in Childe Harold ; and in a letter to his
mother from Malta, he thus describes her in prose:
— " This letter is committed to the charge of a very
extraordinary woman, whom you have doubtless
heard of, Mrs. S * S *, of whose escape the Marquis
de Salvo published a narrative a few years ago. She
has since been shipwrecked, and her life has been
from its commencement so fertile in remarkable inci-
dents that in a romance they would appear improbable.
She was born at Constantinople, where her father,
Baron H *, was Austrian ambassador ; married un-
happily, yet has never been impeached in point of
character ; excited the vengeance of Buonaparte by
a part in some conspiracy ; several times risked her
life ; and is not yet twenty-five. She is here on her
way to England, to join her husband, being obliged
to leave Trieste, where she was paying a visit to her
mother, by the approach of the French, and embarks
soon in a ship of war. Since my arrival here. I
have had scarcely any other companion. I have

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 287

found her very pretty, very accomplished, and
extremely eccentric. Buonaparte is even now so
incensed against her, tiiat her life would be in
some danger if she were taken prisoner a seconU
time. "

The tone in which he addresses this fair heroine
in Childe Harold is (consistently with the above
dispassionate account of her) that of the purest ad-
miration and interest, unwarmed by any more ardent
sentiment : —

" Sweet Florence ! could another ever share

This wayward, loveless heart, it would be thine :
But, check'd by every tie, I may not dare
To cast a worthless offering at thy shrine.

Nor ask so dear a breast to feel one pang for mine.

" Thus Harold deem'd as on that lady's eye

He look'd, and met its beam without a thought,
Save admiration, glancing harmless by," &c. &c.

In one so imaginative as Lord Byron, who, while
he infused so much of his life into his poetry, min-
gled also not a little of poetry with his life, it is dif-
ficult, in unravelling the texture of his feelings, to
distinguish at all times between the fancifid and the
real. His description here, for instance, of the un-
moved and " loveless heart," with which he contem-
l^lated even the charms of this attractive person, is
wholly at variance, not only with the anecdote from
his "Memoranda" which I have recalled, but with
the statements in many of his subsequent letters,
and, above all, with one of the most graceful of his
lesser poems, purporting to be addressed to this

2S8 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

same lady during a thunder-storm, on his road to
Zitza. *

Notwithstanding, however, these counter evi-
dences, I am much disposed to believe that the repre-
sentation of the state of heart in the foregoing
extract from Childe Harold may be regarded as the
true one ; and that the notion of his being in love
was but a dream that sprung up afterwards, when the
image of the fair Florence had become idealised in
his fancy, and every remembrance of their pleasant
hours among " Calypso's isles" came invested by his
imagination with the warm aspect of love. It will
be recollected that to the chilled and sated feelings
which early indulgence, and almost as early disen-
chantment, had left beliind, he attributes in these
verses the calm and passionless regard, with which
even attractions like those of Florence were viewed

* The following stanzas from this little poem have a music
in them, which, independently of all meaning, is enchanting :—

" And since I now remember thee
In darkness and in dread,
As in those hours of revelry,
Which mirth and music sped ;

" Do thou, amidst the fair white walls.
If Cadiz yet be free,
At times, from out her latticed haUs,
Look o'er the dark blue sea ;

" Then think upon Calypso's isles,
Endear'd by days gone by ;
To others give a thousand smiles,
To me a single sigh," &c. &c.

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYKOX. 289

by him. Tliat such was actually his distaste, at this
period, to all real objects of love or passion (however
his fancy could call up creatures of its own to wor-
ship) there is every reason to believe ; and the
same morbid indifference to those pleasures he had
once so ardently pursued still continued to be pro-
fessed by him on his return to England. No ancho-
ret, indeed, could claim for himself much more apa-
thy towards all such allurements than he did at that
period. But to be thus saved from temptation was a
dear-bought safety, and, at the age of three-and-
twenty, satiety and disgust are but melancholy sub-
stitutes for virtue.

The brig of war, in which they sailed, having
been ordered to convoy a fleet of small merchant-
men to Patras and Prevesa, they remained, for two
or three days, at anchor off the former place. From
thence, proceeding to their ultimate destination,
and catching a sunset view of INIissolonghi in their
way, they landed, on the 29th of September, at Pre-
vesa.

The route which Lord Byron now took through
Albania, as well as those subsequent journeys
through other parts of Turkey, which he performed
in company with his friend Mr. Hobhouse, may be
traced, by such as are desirous of details on the
subject, in the account which the latter gentleman
has given of his travels ; an account which, interest-
ing from its own excellence in every merit that
should adorn such a work, becomes still more so
from the feeling that Lord Iiyron is, as it were, pre-
sent through its pages, and that we there follow his

VOL. I. u

290 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

first youthful footsteps into the land with whose
name he has intertwined his own for ever. As I
am enabled, however, by the letters of the noble
poet to his mother, as well as by others, still more
curious, which are now, for the first time, published,
to give his own rapid and lively sketches of his wan-
derings, I shall content myself, after this general
reference to the volume of Mr. Hobhouse, with such
occasional extracts from its pages as may throw light
upon the letters of his friend.

Letter 40. TO MRS. BYRON.

" Prevesa, November 12. 1809.
"• My dear Mother,

" I have now been some time in Turkey : this
place is on the coast, but I have traversed the in-
terior of the province of Albania on a visit to the
Pacha. I left Malta in the Spider, a brig of war,
on the 21st of September, and arrived in eight days
at Prevesa. I thence have been about 150 miles, as
far as Tepaleen, his Highness's country palace, where
I stayed three days. The name of the Pacha is Ali,
and he is considered a man of the first abilities : he
governs the whole of Albania (the ancient Illyricum),
Epirus, and part of Macedonia. His son, Vely Pacha,
to whom he has given me letters, governs the ^Morea,
and has great influence in Egypt; in short, he is one
of the most powerful men in the Ottoman empire.
When I reached Yanina, the capital, after a journey
of three days over the mountains, through a country
of the most picturesque beauty, I found that Ali
Pacha was with his army in Illyricum, besieging

1809. LIFE OF LOKD EYROK. 291

Ibrahim Paclia In the castle of Berat. He h.ad
heard that an Englishman of rank was in his do-
minions, and had left orders in Yanina witli the
commandant to provide a house, and supply me
with every kind of necessary gratis ; and, though I
have been allowed to make presents to the slaves,
S:c., I have not been permitted to pay for a single
article of household consumption.

" I rode out on the vizier's horses, and saw the
palaces of himself and grandsons : tliey are splendid,
but too much ornamented with silk and gold. I
then went over the mountains through Zitza, a
village with a Greek monastery (where I slept on
my return), in the most beautiful situation (always
excepting Cintra, in Portugal) I ever beheld. In
nine days I reached Tepaleen. Our journey was
much prolonged by the torrents that had fallen from
the mountains, and intersected the roads. I shall
never forget the singular scene * on entering Tepa-

* Tlie following is ]Mr. Hobliouse's less embellished desci;;)-
tion of this scene ; — " The court at Tepellene, which was
enclosed on two sides by the i)alace, and on the other two
sides by a high wall, presented us, at our first entrance, with a
siglit something like wiiat we might have, perliaps, beheld
some hundred years ago in the castle-yard of a great feudal
lord. Soldiers, with their arms piled against the wall near
them, were assembled in different parts of the square : some of
them pacing slowly backwards and forwards, and others sitting
on the ground in groups. Several horses, completely capa-
risoned, were leading about, whilst others were neigliing under
the hands of the grooms. In the part farthest from the
dwelling, preparations were making for the feast of the night;
and several kids and sheep were being dressed by cooks who

U 2

292 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

leen at five in the afternoon, as the sun was going
down. It brought to my mind (with some change

were themselves half armed. Every thing wore a most martial
look, though not exactly in the style of the head-quarters of a
Christian general ; for many of the soldiers were in the most
common dress, without shoes, and having more wildness in
their air and manner than the Albanians we had before seen."
On comparing this description, which is itself sufficiently
striking, with those which Lord Byron has given of the same
scene, both in the letter to his mother, and in the second
Canto of Cliilde Harold, we gain some insight into the process
by which imagination elevates, without falsifying, reality, and
facts become brightened and refined into poetry. Ascending
from the representation drawn faithfully on the spot by the
traveller, to the more fanciful arrangement of the same mate-
rials in the letter of the poet, we at length, by one step more,
arrive at that consummate, idealised picture, tlie result of both
memory and invention combined, which in the following
splendid stanzas is presented to us : —

" Amidst no common pomp the despot sate,
While busy preparations shook the court.
Slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons wait ;
Within, a palace, and without, a fort :

Here men of every clime appear to make resort.

" Richly caparison'd, a ready row

Of armed horse, and many a warlike store,
Circled the wide-extending court below ;
Above, strange groups adorn'd the corridore ;
And oft-times through the area's echoing door
Some high-capp'd Tartar spurr'd his steed away :
The Turk, the Greek, the Albanian, and the Moor,
Here mingled in their many-hued array.

While the deep war-drum's sound announced the close of day.

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 293

of dress, however) Scott's description of Branksome
Castle in his IjCfi/, and the feudal system. The
Albanians, in their dresses, (the most magnificent
in the world, consisting of a long tvhite hilt, gold-
worked cloak, crimson velvet gold-laced jacket and
waistcoat, silver mounted pistols and daggers,) the
Tartars with their high caps, the Turks in their vast
pelisses and turbans, the soldiers and black slaves
with the horses, the former in groups in an immense
large open gallery in front of the palace, the latter
placed in a kind of cloister below it, two hundred
steeds ready caparisoned to move in a momentj

" The wild Albanian, kirtled to his knee,
With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun,
And gold-embroider'd garments, fair to see ;
The crimson-scarfed men of Macedon j
The Delhi, with his cap of terror on,
And crooked glaive ; the lively, supple Greek ;
And swarthy Nubia's mutilated son ;
The bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak,

jMaster of all around — too potent to be meek,

" Are mix'd, conspicuous : some recline in groups,
Scanning the motley scene that varies round ;
There some grave Moslem to devotion stoops.
And some that smoke, and some that play, are found ;
Here the Albanian proudly treads the ground ;
Half whispering there the Greek is heard to prate ;
Hark ! from the mosque the nightly solemn sound.
The Muezzin's call doth shake the minaret,
There is no god but God! — to prayer — lo ! God is
great ! ' "

Childe Harold, Canto II.

u 3

294- NOTICES OF THE 1809.

couriers entering or passing out witli despatches,
the kettle-drums beating, boys calling the hour
from the minaret of the mosque, altogether, with
the singular appearance of the building itself, formed
a new and delightful spectacle to a stranger. I
was conducted to a very handsome apartment, and
my health enquired after by the vizier's secretary,
' a-la-mode Turque ! '

" The next day I was introduced to Ali Pacha. I
was dressed in a full suit of staff uniform, with a very
magnificent sabre, Sec. The vizier received me
in a large room paved with marble ; a fountain was
playing in the centre; the apartment was surrounded
by scarlet ottomans. He received me standing, a
wonderful compliment from a Mussulman, and made
me sit down on his right hand. I have a Greek
interpreter for general use, but a physician of All's,
named Femlario, who understands Latin, acted for
me on this occasion. His first question was, why,
at so early an age, I left my country ? — (the Turks
have no idea of travelling for amusement.) He then
said, the English minister, Captain Leake, had told
him I was of a great family, and desired his respects
to my mother; which I now, in the name of Ali
Pacha, present to you. He said he was certain I
was a man of birth, because I had small ears, curling
hair, and little white hands *, and expressed himself
pleased with my appearance and garb. He told me

* In the shape of the hands, as a mark of high birth. Lord
Byron himself had as implicit faith as the Pacha : see his note
on the line, " Tliough on more tlwrovgk-bred or fairer fingers,"
in Don Juan.

1809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 235

to consider him as a flither whilst I was in Turkey,
and said he looked on me as his son. Indeed, he
treated me like a child, sending me almonds and
sugared sherbet, fruit and sweetmeats, twenty times
a day. He begged me to visit him often, and at
night, when he was at leisure. I then, after coffee
and pipes, retired for the first time. I saw him thrice
afterwards. It is singular, that the Turks, who have
no hereditary dignities, and few great families, ex-
cept the Sultans, pay so much respect to birth ; for
I found my pedigree more regarded than my title. *

" To-day I saw the remains of the town of Actium,
near which Antony lost the world, in a small bay,
where two frigates could hardly manoeuvre: a broken
wall is the sole remnant. On another part of the
gulf stand the ruins of Nicopolis, built by Augustus
in honour of his victory. Last night I was at a
Greek marriage ; but this and a thousand things
more I have neither time nor space to describe.

" I am going to-morrow, with a guard of fifty men,
to Patras in the Morea, and thence to Athens, where
I shall winter. Two days ago I was nearly lost in

* A few sentences are here and elsewhere omitted, as having
no reference to Lord Byron himself, but merely containing
some particulars relating to Ali and his grandsons, which may
be found in various books of travels.

Ali had not forgotten his noble guest when Dr. Holland, a
few years after, visited Albania: — "I mentioned to him, ge-
nerally (says this intelligent traveller), Lord Byron's poetical
description of Albania, the interest it had excited in England,
and Mr. Hobhouse's intended publication of his travels in the
same country. He seemed pleased witli tliese circumstances,
and stated his recollections of Lord Byron."

u 4.

296 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

a Turkish ship of war, owing to the ignorance of the
captain and crew, though the storm was not violent.
Fletcher yelled after his wife, the Greeks called on
all the saints, the Mussulmans on Alia ; the captain
burst into tears and ran below deck, telling us to call
on God ; the sails were spht, the main-yard shivered,
the wind blowing fresh, the night setting in, and all
our chance was to make Corfu, which is in possession
of the French, or (as Fletcher pathetically termed
it) ' a watery grave.' I did what I could to console
Fletcher, but finding him incorrigible, wrapped my-
self up in my Albanian capote (an immense cloak),
and lay down on deck to wait the worst. * I liave
learnt to philosophise in mj^ travels, and if I had not,
complaint was useless. Luckily the wind abated
and only drove us on the coast of Suli, on the main
land, where we landed, and proceeded, by the help
of the natives, to Prevesa again ; but I shall not
trust Turkish sailors in future, though the Pacha
had ordei-ed one of his own galliots to take me to
Patras. I am therefore going as far as Missolonghi
by land, and there have only to cross a small gulf to
get to Patras.

" Fletcher's next epistle will be full of marvels: we

* I have lieard the poet's fellow-traveller describe this re-
markable instance of his coolness and courage even still more
strikingly than it is here stated by himself. Finding that,
from his lameness, he was unable to be of any service in the
exertions wliich tlieir very serious danger called for, after a
laugh or two at tlie panic of his valet, he not only wrapped
himself up and lay down, in the manner here mentioned, but,
when their difficulties were surmounted, was found fast asleep.

1809. LIFE OF LORD KYRON, 297

were one night lost for nine hours in the mountains
in a thunder-storm *, and since nearly wrecked. In

* In die route from loannina to Zitza, Mr. Hobhouse and
the secretary of Ali, accompanied by one of the servants, had
rode on before the rest of the party, and an-ived at the village
just as the evening set in. After describing the sort of hovel
in which they were to take up their quarters for the night,
Mr. Hobhouse thus continues : — " Vasilly was despatched
into the village to procure eggs and fowls, that would be
ready, as we thought, by the arrival of the second party. But
an hour passed away and no one appeared. It was seven
o'clock, and the storm liad increased to a fury I had never
before, and, indeed, have never since, seen equalled. The
roof of our hovel shook under the clatterinsr torrents and susts
of wind. The tluuider roared, as it seemed, without any in-
tennission ; for the echoes of one peal had not ceased to roll
in the mountains, before another tremendous crash burst over
our heads ; whilst the plains and the distant hills (visible
through the cracks of the cabin) appeared in a perpetual blaze.
The tempest was altogether terrific, and worthy of the Grecian
Jove ; and the peasants, no less religious than their ancestors,
confessed their alarm. The women wept, and the men, calling
on the name of God, crossed themselves at every repeated
peal.

" We were very uneasy that the party did not arrive ; but
the secretary assured me that the guides knew every part of
the country, as did also liis own servant, who was with them,
and that they had certainly taken shelter in a village at an
hour's distance. Not being satisfied with the conjecture, I
ordered fires to be lighted on the hill above the village, and
some muskets to be discharged : this was at eleven o'clock,
and the storm had not abated. I lay down in my great coat ;
but all sleeping was out of the question, as any pauses in the
tempest were filled up by the barking of the dogs, and the
shouting of the sheplierds in the neighbouring mountains.

" A little after midnight, a man, panting and pale, and

298 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

both cases Fletcher was sorely bewildered, from
apprehensions of famine and banditti in the first, and
drowning in the second instance. His eyes were a
little hurt by the lightning, or crying (I don't know

drenched with rain, rushed into the room, and, between crying
and roaring, with a profusion of action, communicated some-
thing to the secretary, of which I understood only — that they
had all fallen down. I learnt, however, that no accident had
happened, except the falling of the luggage horses, and losing
their way, and that they were now waiting for fresh horses
and guides. Ten were immediately sent to them, together
with several men with pine-torches ; but it was not till two
o'clock, in the morning that we heard they were approaching,
and my friend, with the priest and the servants, did not enter
our hut before three.

" I now learnt from him that they had lost their way from
the commencement of the storm, when not above three miles
from the village ; and that, after wandering up and down in
total ignorance of their position, they had, at last, stopped near
some Turkish tombstones and a torrent, which they saw by the
flashes of liglitning. They had been thus exposed for nine
hours ; and the guides, so far from assisting them, only aug-
mented the confusion, by running away, after being threatened
with death by George the dragoman, who, in an agony of rage
and fear, and without giving any warning, fired off both his
pistols, and drew from the English servant an involuntary
scream of horror, for he fancied they were beset by robbers.

" I had not, as you have seen, witnessed the distressing
part of this adventure myself; but from the lively picture
drawn of it by my friend, and from the exaggerated descrip-
tions of George, I fancied myself a good judge of the whole
situation, and should consider this to have been one of the
most considerable of the few adventures that befell either of us
during our tour in Turkey. It was long before we ceased to
talk of the thunder-storm in the plain of Zitza."

1809. I>IFE OF LOUD BYnON'. 299

vvliicii), but are now recovered. When you write,
address to me at Mr. Strane's, English consul,
Patras, Morea.

" I could tell you I know not how many incidents
that I think would amuse you, but they crowd on
my mind as much as they would swell my paper,
and I can neither arrange them in the one, nor put
them down on the other except in the greatest con-
fusion. I like the Albanians much ; they are not
all Turks ; some tribes are Christians. But their
religion makes little difference in their manner or
conduct. They are esteemed the best troops in the
Turkish service. I lived on my route, two days at
once, and three days again in a barrack at Salora,
and never found soldiers so tolerable, though I have
been in the garrisons of Gibraltar and Malta, and
seen Spanish, French, Sicilian, and British troops in
abundance. I have had nothing stolen, and was
always welcome to their provision and milk. Not a
week ago an Albanian chief, (every village has its
chief, who is called Primate,) after helping us out
of the Turkish galley in her distress, feeding us, and
lodging my suite, consisting of Fletcher, a Greek,
two Athenians, a Greek priest, and my companion,
Mr. Hobhouse, refused any compensation but a
written paper stating that I was well received ;
and when I pressed him to accept a few sequins,
' No,' he replied ; ' I wish you to love me, not to
pay me.' These are his words.

" It is astonishing how far money goes in this coun-
try. While I was in the capital I had nothing to
pay by the vizier's order ; but since, though I have

300 NOTICES OF THE 1809.

generally had sixteen horses, and generally six or
seven men, the expense has not been half as much
as staying only three weeks in Malta, though Sir A.
Ball, the governor, gave me a house for nothing, and
I had only one servant. By the by, I expect H * *
to remit regularly ; for I am not about to stay in this
province for ever. Let him write to me at Mr.
Strane's, English consul, Patras. The fact is, the
fertility of the plains is wonderful, and specie is
scarce, which makes this remarkable cheapness. I
am going to Athens to study modern Greek, which
differs much from the ancient, though radically
similar. I have no desire to return to England, nor
shall I, unless compelled by absolute want, and
H * * 's neglect ; but I shall not enter into Asia for a
year or two, as I have much to see in Greece, and I
may perhaps cross into Africa, at least the Egyptian
part. Fletcher, like all Englishmen, is very much
dissatisfied, though a little reconciled to the Turks
by a present of eighty piastres from the vizier, which,
if you consider every thing, and the value of specie
here, is nearly worth ten guineas English. He has
suffered nothing but from cold, heat, and vermin,
which those who lie in cottages and cross mountains
in a cold country must undergo, and of which I have
equally partaken with himself; but he is not valiant,
and is afraid of robbers and tempests. I have no one
to be remembered to in England, and wish to hear
nothing from it, but that you are well, and a letter
or two on business from H * *, whom you may tell
to write. I will write when I can, and beg you to
believe me, Your affectionate son,

" Byron."

^809. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 301

About the middle of November, the young tra-
veller took his departure from Prevesa (the place
where the foregoing letter was written), and pro-
ceeded, attended by his guard of fifty Albanians *,
through Acarnania and ^^tolia, towards the Morea.

" And therefore did he take a trusty band
To traverse Acarnania's forest wide,
In war well season'd, and with labours tann'd,
Till he did greet white Aclielous' tide,

And from his further bank iEtolia's wolds espied."

Childe Harold, Canto II.

His description of the night-scene at Utraikey (a
small place situated in one of the bays of the Gulf
of Arta) is, no doubt, vividly in the recollection of
every reader of these pages ; nor will it diminisli
their enjoyment of the wild beauties of that picture
to be made acquainted with the real circumstances
on which it was founded, in the following animated
details of the same scene by his fellow-traveller: —

" In the evening the gates were secured, and pre-
parations were made for feeding our Albanians. A
goat was killed and roasted whole, and four fires
were kindled in the yard, round which the soldiers
seated themselves in parties. After eating and
drinking, the greater part of them assembled round
the largest of the fires, and whilst ourselves and the
elders of the party were seated on the ground, danced
round the blaze to their own songs, in the manner

* Mr. Hohhouse, I think, makes the number of this guard
but thirty-seven, and Lord Byron, in a subsecjuent letter, rates
them at forty.

S02 NOTICES OF THE

1S09.

before described, but with an astonishing energy.
All their songs were relations of some robbing ex-
ploits. One of them, which detained them more
than an hour, began thus : — ' When we set out from
Parga tliere were sixty of us : ' — then came the
burden of the verse,

" ' Rubbers all at Parga !
Robbers all at Parga !

" ' KXecpTeis ttots TJapya !
I \erpTeis ■wore Tiapya. \ '

And as they roared out this stave they whirled
round the fire, dropped and rebounded from their
knees, and again whirled round as the chorus was
again repeated. The rippling of the waves upon
the pebbly margin where we were seated filled up
the pauses of the song with a milder and not more
monotonous music. The night was very dark, but
by the flashes of the fires we caught a glimpse of the
woods, the rocks, and the lake, which, together v/ith
the wild appearance of the dancers, presented us
with a scene that v,-ould have made a fine picture in
the hands of such an artist as the author of the
Mysteries of Udolpho."

Having traversed Acarnania, the travellers passed
to the i^tolian side of the Achelous, and on the 21st
of November reached Missolonghi. And here, it
is impossible not to pause, and send a mournful
thought forward to the visit which, fifteen years after,
he paid to this same spot, when, in the full meri-
dian both of his age and fame, he came to lay down
his life as the champion of that land, through which
he now wandered a stripling and a stranger. Could

]809. LIFK OF LORD BYRON. 003

some spirit have here revealed to him the events
of that interval, — have shown him, on the one
side, the triumphs that awaited him, the power his
varied genius would acquire over all hearts, alike to
elevate or depress, to darken or illuminate them,
— and then place, on the other side, all the penalties
of this gift, the waste and wear of the heart through
the imagination, the havoc of that perpetual fire
within, which, while it dazzles others, consumes the
possessor, — the invidiousness of such an elevation
in the eyes of mankind, and the revenge they take
on him who compels them to look up to it, — ivould
he, it may be asked, have welcomed glory on such
conditions ? would he not rather have felt that the
purchase was too costly, and that such warfare with
an ungrateful world, while living, would be ill re-
compensed even by the immortality it might award
him afterwards ?

At Missolonghi he dismissed his whole band of
Albanians, with the exception of one, named Dervish,
whom he took into his service, and who, with Basilius,
the attendant allotted him by Ali Pacha, continued
with him during the remainder of his stay in the
East. After a residence of near a fortnight at Patras,
he next directed his course to Vostizza, — on ap-
proaching which town the snowy peak of Parnassus,
towering on the other side of the Gulf, first broke
on his eyes ; and in two days after, among the
sacred hollows of Delphi, the stanzas, with which that
vision had inspired him, were written. *

* " Oh, thou Parnassus ! whom 1 now survey,
Not in the frenzy of a dreamer's eye,

304 NOTICES OF T!IK 1S09.

It was at this time, that, in riding along the sides
of Parnassus, he saw an unusually large flight of
eagles in the air, — a phenomenon which seems to
have affected his imagination with a sort of poetical
superstition, as he, more than once, recurs to the
circumstance in his journals. Thus, " Going to the
fountain of Delphi (Castri) in 1809, I saw a flight
of twelve eagles (H. says they were vultures — at
least in conversation), and I seised the omen. On
the day before I composed the lines to Parnassus
(in Childe Harold), and, on beholding the birds, had
a hope that Apollo had accepted my homage. I have
at least had the name and fame of a poet during the
poetical part of life (from twenty to thirty) ; — whe-
ther it will last is another matter."

He has also, in reference to this journey from
Patras, related a little anecdote of his own sportsman-
ship, which, by all but sportsmen, will be thought
creditable to his humanity. " The last bird I ever
fired at was an eaglet, on the shore of the Gulf of
Lepanto, near Vostizza. It was only wounded, and
I tried to save it, — the eye was so bright. But it
pined, and died in a iew days ; and I never did since,
and never will, attempt the death of another bird."

To a traveller in Greece, there are few things
more remarkable than the diminutive extent of
those countries, which have filled such a wide space
in fame. " A man might very easily," says Mr.

Not in the fabled landscape of a lay,

But soaring snow-clad throngh thy native sky,

In the wild pomp of mountain majesty ! "

Ckilde Haroi-d, Canto I.

ISIO. LIFE OF LORD BYRON'. 305

Hobhouse, " at a moderate pace ride from Llvadia
to Thebes and back again between breakfast and
dinner ; and the tour of all Boeotia might certainly be
made in two days without baggage." Having visited,
within a very short space of time, the fountains of
Memory and Oblivion at Livadia, and the haunts of
the Ismenian Apollo at Thebes, the travellers at
length turned towards Athens, the city of their
dreams, and, after crossing Mount Cithaeron, arrived
in sight of the ruins of Phyle, on the evening of
Christmas-day, 1809.

Though the poet has left, in his own verses, an
ever-during testimony of the enthusiasm with which
he now contemplated the scenes around him, it is
not difficult to conceive that, to superficial observers,
Lord Byron at Athens might have appeared an un-
touched spectator of much that throws ordinary
travellers into, at least, verbal raptures. For pre-
tenders of every sort, whether in taste or morals,
he entertained, at all times, the most profound con-
tempt ; and if, frequently, his real feelings of ad-
miration disguised themselves under an affected
tone of indifference and mockery, it was out of
pure hostility to the cant of those, who, he well
knew, praised without any feeling at all. It must be
owned, too, that while he thus justly despised the
raptures of the common herd of travellers, there
were some pursuits, even of the intelligent and
tasteful, in which he took but very little interest.
With the antiquarian and connoisseur his sympa-
thies were few and feeble : — "I am not a collector,"
he says, in one of his notes on Childe Harold, " nor

VOL. I. X

306 NOTICES OF THE J810.

an admirer of collections." For antiquities, indeed,
unassociated with high names and deeds, he had
no value whatever ; and of works of art he was con-
tent to admire the general effect, without professing,
or aiming at, any knowledge of the details. It was
to nature, in her lonely scenes of grandeur and
beauty, or as at Athens, shining, unchanged,
among the ruins of glory and of art, that the true
fervid homage of his whole soul was paid. In the
few notices of his travels, appended to Childe
Harold, we find the sites and scenery of the different
places he visited far more fondly dwelt upon than
their classic or historical associations. To the valley
of Zitza he reverts, both in prose and verse, with a
much warmer recollection than to Delphi or the
Troad ; and the plain of Athens itself is chiefly
praised by him as " a more glorious prospect than
even Cintra or Istambol." Where, indeed, could
Nature assert such claims to his worship as in scenes
like these, where he beheld her blooming, in inde-
structible beauty, amid the wreck of all that man
deems most worthy of duration ? " Human institu-
tions," says Harris, " perish, but Nature is perma-
nent : " — or, as Lord Byron has amplified this
thought * in one of his most splendid passages : —

* The passage of Harris, indeed, contains the pith of the
whole stanza : — " Notwithstanding the various fortune of
Athens, as a city, Attica is still famous for olives, and Slount
Hymettus for honey. Human institutions perish, but Nature

is permanent." — Philolog. Inquiries I recollect having once

pointed out this coincidence to Lord Byron, but he assured
me that he had never even seen this work of Harris.

1810. X.IFE OF LORD BYRON. 307

" Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild ;
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,
Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled,
And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus yields;
There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,
The free-born wanderer of thy mountain-air ;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,
Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare ;

Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair."

Childe Harold, Canto II.

At Athens, on this his first visit, he made a stay of
between two and three months, not a day of which
he let pass without employing some of its hours in
visiting the grand monuments of ancient genius
around him, and calling up the spirit of other times
among their ruins. He made frequently, too, ex-
cursions to different parts of Attica ; and it was in
one of his visits to Cape Colonna, at this time, that
he was near being seized by a party of Mainotes,
who were lying hid in the caves under the cliff of
Minerva Sunias. These pirates, it appears, were
only deterred from attacking him (as a Greek, who
was then their prisoner, informed him afterwards)
by a supposition that the two Albanians, whom they
saw attending him, were but part of a complete
guard he had at hand.

In addition to all the magic of its names and scenes,
the city of Minerva possessed another sort of attrac-
tion for the poet, to which, wherever he went, his
heart, or rather imagination, was but too sensible.
His pretty song, " Maid of Athens, ere we part," is
said to have been addressed to the eldest daughter of
the Greek lady at whose house he lodged ; and that

X 2

308 NOTICES OF THE ISIO.

the fair Athenian, when he composed these verses,
may have been the tenant, for the time being, of his
fancy, is highly possible. Theodora Macri, his hostess,
was the widow of the late English vice-consul, and
derived a livelihood from letting, chiefly to English
travellers, the apartments which Lord Byron and
his friend now occupied, and of which the latter
gentleman gives us the following description ; —
" Our lodgings consisted of a sitting-room and two
bed-rooms, opening into a court-yard where there
were five or six lemon-trees, from which, during our
residence in the place, was plucked the fruit that
seasoned the pilaf, and other national dishes served
up at our frugal table."

The fame of an illustrious poet is not confined to
his own person and writings, but imparts a share of
its splendour to whatever has been, even remotely,
connected with him ; and not only ennobles the
objects of his friendships, his loves, and even his
likings, but on every spot where he has sojourned
through life, leaves traces of its light that do not
easily pass away. Little did the Maid of Athens,
while listening innocently to the compliments of
the young Englishman, foresee that a day would
come when he should make her name and home
so celebrated that travellers, on their return from
Greece, would find few things more interesting to
their hearers than such details of herself and her
family as the following : —

" Our servant, who had gone before to procure
accommodation, met us at the gate and conducted
us to Theodora Macri, the Consulina's, where we at

I&IO. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 309

present live. Tliis lady is the widow of the consul,
and has three lovely daughters ; the eldest celebrated
for her beauty, and said to be the subject of those
stanzas by Lord Byron, —

" ' Maid of Athens, ere we part,

Give, oh, give me back my heart ! ' &c.

" At Orchomenus, where stood the Temple of the
Graces, I was tempted to exclaim, ' Whither have
the Graces fled ? ' — Little did I expect to find
them here. Yet here comes one of them with
golden cups and coffee, and another with a book.
The book is a register of names, some of which are
far sounded by the voice of fame. Among them is
Lord Byron's, connected with some lines which I
shall send you : —

" ' Fair Albion, smiling, sees her son depart,
To trace the birth and nursery of art ;
Noble his object, glorious is his aim,
He comes to Athens, and he — writes his name.'

" The counterpoise by Lord BjTon : —

" ' This modest bard, like many a bard unknown,
Rhymes on our names, but wisely hides his own ;
But yet whoe'er he be, to say no worse,
His name would bring more credit than his verse.'

" The mention of the three Athenian Graces will,
I can foresee, rouse your curiosity, and fire your
imagination ; and I may despair of your farther at-
tention till I attempt to give you some description
of them. Their apartment is immediately opposite
to ours, and if you could see them, as we do now,
through the gently waving aromatic plants before

X 3

310 NOTICES OF THE 1810.

our window, you would leave your heart in
Athens.

" Theresa, the Maid of Athens, Catinco, and
I^Iariana, are of middle stature. On the crown of
the head of each is a red Albanian skull-cap, with a
blue tassel spread out and fastened down like a star.
Near the edge or bottom of the skull-cap is a hand-
kerchief of various colours bound round their temples.
The youngest wears her hair loose, falling on her
shoulders, — the hair behind descending down the
back nearly to the waist, and, as usual, mixed with
silk. The two eldest generally have their hair
bound, and fastened under the handkerchief. Their
upper robe is a pelisse edged with fur, hanging loose
down to the ankles ; below is a handkerchief of
muslin covering the bosom, and terminating at the
waist, which is short ; under that, a gown of striped
silk or muslin, with a gore round the swell of the
loins, falling in front in graceful negligence; — white
stockings and yellow slippers complete their attire.
The two eldest have black, or dark hair and eyes ;
their visage oval, and complexion somewhat pale,
with teeth of dazzling whiteness. Their cheeks are
rounded, and noses straight, rather inclined to aqui-
line. The youngest, Mariana, is very fair, her face
not so finely rounded, but has a gayer expression than
her sisters', whose countenances, except when the
conversation has something of mirth in it, may be
said to be rather pensive. Their persons are elegant,
and their manners pleasing and lady-like, such as
would be fascinating in any country. They possess
very considerable powers of conversation, and their

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 511

minds seem to be more instructed than those of the
Greek women in general. With such attractions it
would, indeed, be remarkable, if they did not meet
with great attentions from the travellers who occa-
sionally are resident in Athens. They sit in the
eastern style, a little reclined, with their limbs ga-
thered under them on the divan, and without shoes.
Their employments are the needle, tambouring, and
reading.

" I have said that I saw these Grecian beauties
through the waving aromatic plants before their
window. This, perhaps, has raised your imagin-
ation somewhat too high, in regard to their condi-
tion. You may have supposed their dwelling to
have every attribute of eastern luxury. The golden
cups, too, may have thrown a little witchery over
your excited fancy. Confess, do you not imagine
that the doors

" * Self-open'd into halls, where, who can tell
What elegance and grandeur wide expand,
The pride of Turkey and of Persia's land ;
Soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread.
And couches stretch'd around in seemly band,
And endless pillows rise to prop the head,
So that each spacious room was one full swelling bed ? '

" You will shortly perceive the propriety of my
delaying, till now, to inform you that the aromatic
plants which I have mentioned are neither more nor
less than a few geraniums and Grecian balms, and
that the room in which the ladies sit is quite unfur-
nished, the walls neither painted nor decorated by
' cunning hand.' Then, what would have become

X 4.

312 NOTICES OF THE 1810.

of the Graces had I told you sooner that a single
room is all they have, save a little closet and a kit-
chen ? You see how careful I have been to make
the first impression good ; not that they do not merit
every praise, but that it is in man's august and ele-
vated nature to think a little slightingly of m.erit,
and even of beauty, if not supported by some worldly
show. Now, I shall communicate to you a secret,
but in the lowest whisper.

" These ladies, since the death of the consul, their
father, depend on strangers living in their spare room
and closet, — which we now occupy. But, though
so poor, their virtue shines as conspicuously as their
beauty.

" Not all the wealth of the East, or the compli-
mentary lays even of the first of England's poets,
could render them so truly worthy of love and ad-
miration. " *

Ten weeks had flown rapidly away, when the un-
expected offer of a passage in an English sloop of
war to Smyrna induced the travellers to make im-
mediate preparations for departure, and, on the 5th
of March, they reluctantly took leave of Athens.
"Passing," says Mr. Hobhouse, " through the gate
leading to the Piraeus, we struck into the olive-wood
on the road going to Salamis, galloping at a quick
pace, in order to rid ourselves, by hurry, of the pain of
parting." He adds, " We could not refrain from look-
ing back, as we passed rapidly to the shore, and
we continued to direct our eyes towards the spot,
where we had caught the last glimpse of the The-

* Travels in Italy, Greece, &c., by H. \V. Williams, Esq.

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 313

seum and the ruins of the Parthenon through the
vistas in the woods, for many minutes after the city
and the Acropohs had been totally hidden from our
view."

At Smyrna Lord Byron took up his residence in
the house of the consul-general, and remained there,
with the exception of two or three days employed in a
visit to the ruins of Ephesus, till the 11th of April.
It was during this time, as appears from a memoran-
dum of his own, that the two first Cantos of Childe
Harold, which he had begun five months before at
loannina, were completed. The memorandum al-
luded to, which I find prefixed to his original manu-
script of the poem, is as follows : —

" Byron, loannina in Albania.
Begun October 31st, 1809;
Concluded Canto 2d, Smyrna,
March 28th. 1810.

" Byron."

From Smyrna the only letter, at all interesting,
which 1 am enabled to present to the reader, is the

following : —

Letter 41. TO MRS. BYRON.

" Smyrna, March 19. 1810,
" Dear Mother,

" I cannot write you a long letter; but as I know
you will not be sorry to receive any intelligence of
my movements, pray accept what I can give. I have
traversed the greatest part of Greece, besides Epirus,
&c. &c., resided ten weeks at Athens, and am now
on the Asiatic side on mj^ way to Constantinople.

314- NOTICES OF THE 1810.

I have just retui'ned from viewing the ruins of Ephe-
sus, a day's journej' from Smyrna. I joresume you
have received a long letter I wrote from Albania,
with an account of my reception by the Pacha of
the province.

" When I arrive at Constantinople, I shall deter-
mine whether to proceed into Persia or return, which
latter I do not wish, if I can avoid it. But I have
no intelligence from Mr. H * *, and but one letter
from yourself. I shall stand in need of remittances
whether I proceed or return. I have written to him
repeatedly, that he may not plead ignorance of my
situation for neglect. I can give you no account of
any thing, for I have not time or opportunity, the
frigate sailing immediately. Indeed the further I
go the more my laziness increases, and my aversion
to letter-writing becomes more confirmed. I have
written to no one but to yourself and INIr. H * *,
and these are communications of business and duty
rather than of inclination.

" F * * is very much disgusted with his fatigues,
though he has undergone nothing that I have not
shared. He is a poor creature; indeed English
servants are detestable travellers. I have, besides
him, two Albanian soldiers and a Greek interpreter ;
all excellent in their way. Greece, particularly in
the vicinity of Athens, is delightful, — cloudless
skies and lovely landscapes. But I must reserve all
account of my adventures till we meet. I keep no
journal, but my friend H. writes incessantly. Pray
take care of ^lurray and Robert, and tell the boy it
is the most fortunate thing for him that he did not

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. S15

accompany me to Turkey. Consider this as merely
a notice of my safety, and believe me, yours, &c. &c.

" Byron."

On the 1 1th of April he left Smyrna in the Salsette
frigate, which had been ordered to Constantinople, for
the purpose of conveying the ambassador, Mr. Adair,
to England, and, after an exploratory visit to the
ruins of Troas, arrived, at the beginning of the fol-
lowing month, in the Dardanelles. — While the frigate
was at anchor in these straits, the following letters to
his friends Mr.Drury and Mr. Hodgson were written.

Letter 42. TO MR. HENRY DRURY.

" Salsette frigate, May 3. 1810.
" My dear Drury,

" When I left England, nearly a year ago, you
requested me to write to you — I will do so. I have
crossed Portugal, traversed the south of Spain,
visited Sardinia, Sicily, Malta, and thence passed
into Turkey, where I am still wandering. 1 first
landed in Albania, the ancient Epirus, where we
penetrated as far as Mount Tomarit — excellently
treated by the chief Ali Pacha, — and, after journey-
ing through Illyria, Chaonia, &c., crossed the Gulf
of Actium, with a guard of fifty Albanians, and
passed the Achelous in our route through Acarnania
and ^tolia. We stopped a short time in the Morea,
crossed the Gulf of Lepanto, and landed at the foot
of Parnassus; — saw all that Delphi retains, and so
on to Thebes and Athens, at which last we remained
ten weeks.

316 NOTICES OF THE

1810.

"His Majesty's ship, Pylades, brought us to
Smyrna ; but not before we had topographised
Attica, including, of course, Marathon and the
Sunian promontory. From Smyrna to the Troad
(which we visited when at anchor, for a fortnight,
off the tomb of Antilochus) was our next stage ; and
now we are in the Dardanelles, waiting for a wind
to proceed to Constantinople.

" This morning I sivam from Sestos to Ahydos.
The immediate distance is not above a mile, but the
current renders it hazardous ; — so much so that I
doubt whether Leander's conjugal affection must not
have been a little chilled in his passage to Paradise.
I attempted it a week ago, and failed, — owing to
the north wind, and the wonderful rapidity of the
tide, — though I have been from my childliood a
strong swimmer. But, this morning being calmer, I
succeeded, and crossed the 'broad Hellespont' in an
hour and ten minutes.

" Well, my dear sir, I have left my home, and
seen part of Africa and Asia, and a tolerable portion
of Europe. I have been with generals and admirals,
princes and pashas, governors and ungovernables, —
but I have not time or paper to expatiate. I wish
to let you know that I live with a friendly remem-
brance of you, and a hope to meet you again ; and if
I do this as shortly as possible, attribute it to anything
but forgetfulness.

" Greece, ancient and modern, you know too well
to require description. Albania, indeed, I have seen
more of than any Englishman (except a Mr. Leake),
for it is a country rarely visited, from the savage

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 317

character of the natives, though abounding in more
natural beauties than the classical regions of Greece,
— which, however, are still eminently beautiful, par-
ticularly Delphi and Cape Coionna in Attica. Yet
these are nothing to parts of Illyria and Epirus,
where places without a name, and rivers not laid
down in maps, may, one day, when more known, be
justly esteemed superior subjects, for the pencil and
the pen, to the dry ditch of the Ilissus and the bogs
of BoEotia.

" The Troad is a fine field for conjecture and
snipe-ehooting, and a good sportsman and an inge-
nious scholar may exercise their feet and faculties
to great advantage upon the spot; — or, if they
prefer riding, lose their way (as I did) in a cursed
quagmire of the Scamander, who wriggles about as
if the Dardan virgins still offered their wonted
tribute. The only vestige of Troy, or her destroyers,
are the barrows supposed to contain the carcasses
of Achilles, Antilochus, Ajax, &c.; — but Mount Ida
is still in high feather, though the shepherds are
now-a-days not much like Ganymede. But why
should I say more of these things? are they not
written in the Boke of Gell? and has not H. got a
journal? I keep none, as I have renounced scribbling.

" I see not much difference between ourselves and
the Turks, save that we have * *, and they have
none — that they have long dresses, and we short,
and that we talk much, and they little. They are
sensible people. Ali Pacha told me he was sure 1
was a man of rank, because I had small ears and
hands, and curling hair. I'y the by, I speak the

318 NOTICES o? THE 1810.

Romaic, or modern Greek, tolerably. It does not
differ from the ancient dialects so much as you would
conceive : but the pronunciation is diametrically
opposite. Of verse, except in rhyme, they liave no
idea.

" I like the Greeks, who are plausible rascals, —
with all the Turkish vices, without their courage.
However, some are brave, and all are beautiful, very
much resembling the busts of Alcibiades : — the
women not quite so handsome. I can swear in
Turkish ; but, except one horrible oath, and ' pimp,'
and ' bread, ' and ' water, ' I have got no great
vocabulary in that language. They are extremely
polite to strangers of any rank, properly protected ;
and as I have two servants and two soldiers, we get
on with great eclat. We have been occasionally in
danger of thieves, and once of shipwreck, — but
always escaped.

" Of Spain I sent some account to our Hodgson,
but have subsequently written to no one, save notes
to relations and lawyers, to keep them out of my
premises. I mean to give up all connection, on my
return, with many of my best friends — as I supposed
them — and to snarl all my life. But I hope to have
one good-humoured laugh with you, and to embrace
Dwyer, and pledge Hodgson, before 1 commence
cynicism.

" Tell Dr. Butler I am now writing with the
gold pen he gave me before I left England, which is
the reason my scrawl is more unintelligible tlian
usual. I have been at Athens and seen plenty of
these reeds for scribbling, some of which he refused

1810. LIFE Oe LORD BYRON. 319

to bestow upon me, because topographic Gell had
brought them from Attica. But I will not describe,
— no — you must be satisfied with simple detail till
my return, and then we will unfold the flood-gates
of colloquy. I am in a thirty-six gun frigate, going
up to fetch Bob Adair from Constantinople, who will
have the honour to carry this letter.

" And so H.'s boke is out*, with some sentimental
sing-song of my own to fill up, — and how does it
take, eh? and where the devil is the second edition
of my Satire, with additions ? and my name on the
title page ? and more lines tagged to the end, with
a new exordium and what not, hot from my anvil
before I cleared the Channel ? The Mediterranean
and the Atlantic roll between me and criticism ; and
the thunders of the Hyperborean Review are deaf-
ened by the roar of the Hellespont.

" Remember me to Claridge, if not translated to
college, and present to Hodgson assurances of my
high consideration. Now, you will ask, what shall I
do next? and I answer, I do not know. I may
return in a few months, but I have intents and
projects after visiting Constantinople. — Hobhouse,
however, will probably be back in September.

" On the 2d of July we have left Albion one
year — ' oblitus meorum obliviscendus et illis.' I
was sick of my own country, and not much prepos-
sessed in favour of any other ; but I ' drag on' ' my
chain' without ' lengthening it at each remove.' I
am like the Jolly Miller, caring for nobody, and not

* The Misccllanv, to which I have more than once referred.

320 NOTICES OF THE 1810.

cared for. All countries are much the same in my
eyes. I smoke, and stare at mountains, and twirl my
mustachios very independently. I miss no comforts,
and the musquitoes that rack the morbid frame of H.
have, luckily for me, little effect on mine, because I
live more temjjerately.

" I omitted Ephesus in my catalogue, which I
visited during my sojourn at Smyrna ; but the
Temple has almost perished, and St. Paul need
not trouble himself to epistolise the present bi'ood
of Ephesians, who have converted a large church
built entirely of marble into a mosque, and I don't
know that the edifice looks the worse for it.

" My paper is full, and my ink ebbing — good
afternoon ! If you address to me at Malta, the
letter will be forwarded wherever I may be. H.
greets you ; he pines for his poetry, — at least,
some tidings of it. I almost forgot to tell you
that I am dying for love of three Greek girls at
Athens, sisters. I lived in the same house. Teresa,
Mariana, and Katinka*, are the names of these
divinities, — all of them under fifteen. Your tuttuvo-

" Byron."

* He has adopted this name in his description of the Seragh'o
in Don Juan, Canto VI. It was, if I recollect right, in
making love to one of these girls that he had recourse to an
act of courtship often practised in that country, — namely,
giving himself a wound across the breast with his dagger.
The young Athenian, by his own account, looked on very
coolly during the operation, considering it a fit tribute to her
beauty, but in no degree moved to gratitude.

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON'. 321

Leiteu'1'^. to MR. HODGSON.

•' Salsette frigate, in the Dardanelles, off Abydos,
May 5. 1810.

" I am on my way to Constantinople, after a
tour through Greece, Epirus, &c., and part of Asia
Minor, some particulars of which I have just com-
municated to our friend and host, H. Drury. With
these, then, I shall not trouble you ; but as you
will perhaps be pleased to hear tliat I am well, &c.,
I take the opportunity of our ambassador's return to
forward the few lines I have time to despatch. We
have undergone some inconveniences, and incurred
partial perils, but no events worthy of communica-
tion, unless you will deem it one that two days ago
I swam from Sestos to Abydos. This, with a few
alarms from robbers, and some danger of shipwreck
in a Turkish galliot six months ago, a visit to a
Pacha, a passion for a married woman at Malta, a
challenge to an officer, an attachment to three Greek
girls at Athens, with a great deal of buffoonery and
fine prospects, form all that has distinguished my
progress since my departure from Spain.

" H. rhymes and journalises ; I stare and do no-
thing— unless smoking can be deemed an active
amusement. The Turks take too much care of their
women to permit them to be scrutinised ; but I have
lived a good deal with the Greeks, whose modern
dialect I can converse in enough for my purposes.
With the Turks I have also some male acquaintances
— female society is out of the question. I have
been very well treated by the Pachas and Governors,
and have no complaint to make of any kind. Hob-

VOL. I. y

322 NOTICES OF THE 1810.

house will one day inform you of all our adventures,
— were I to attempt the recital, neither my paper nor
7/our patience would hold out during the operation.

" Nobody, save yourself, has written to me since
I left England ; but indeed I did not request it. I
except my relations, who write quite as often as
I wish. Of Hobhouse's volume I know nothing,
except that it is out ; and of my second edition I do
not even know that, and certainly do not, at this
distance, interest myself in the matter. I hope
you and Bland roll down the stream of sale with
rapidity.

" Of my return I cannot positively speak, but think
it probable Hobhouse will precede me in that re-
spect. We have been very nearly one year abroad.
I should wish to gaze away another, at least, in these
ever-green climates ; but I fear business, law busi-
ness, the worst of employments, will recall me pre-
vious to that period, if not very quickly. If so,
you shall have due notice.

'' I hope you will find me an altered personage, —
I do not mean in body, but in manner, for I begin to
find out that nothing but virtue will do in this d — d
world. I am tolerably sick of vice, which I have
tried in its agreeable varieties, and mean, on my
return, to cut all my dissolute acquaintance, leave
off wine and carnal company, and betake myself to
politics and decorum. I am very serious and cynical,
and a good deal disposed to moralise ; but fortun-
ately for you the coming homily is cut off by de-
fault of pen and defection of paper.

" Good morrow I If you write, address to me at

ISIO. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 323

Malta, whence your letters will be forwarded. You
need not remember me to any body, but believe me
yours with all faith,

" Byron."

From Constantinople, where he arrived on the
14th of May, he addressed four or five letters to Mrs.
Byron, in almost every one of which his achievement
m swimming across the Hellespont is commemorated.
The exceeding pride, indeed, which he took in this
classic feat (the particulars of which he has himself
abundantly detailed) may be cited among the in-
stances of that boyishness of character, which he car-
ried with him so remarkably into his maturer years,
and which, while it puzzled distant observers of his
conduct, was not among the least amusing or attach-
ing of his peculiarities to those who knew him inti-
mately. So late as eleven years from this period,
when some sceptical traveller ventured to question,
after all, the practicability of Leander's exploit,
Lord Byron, with that jealousy on the subject of
his own personal prowess which he retained from
boyhood, entered again, with fresh zeal, into the
discussion, and brought forward two or three other
instances of his own feats in swimming *, to cor-
roborate tlie statement originally made by him.

* Among others, he mentions his passage of the Tagus in
1809, which is thus described by Mr. Hobhouse : — " My
companion had before made a more perilous, but less cele-
brated, passage; for I recollect that, when we were in Por-
tugal, he swam from old Lisbon to Belein Castle, and having
to contend with a tide and counter current, the wind blowing

Y 2

324' NOTICES OF THE 1810.

In one of these letters to his mother from Con-
stantinople, dated May 24'th, after referring, as usual,
to his notable exploit, " in humble imitation of Lean-
der, of amorous memory, though," he adds, " I had
no Hero to receive me on the other side of the
Hellespont," he continues thus : —

" When our ambassador takes his leave I shall
accompany him to see the sultan, and afterwards pro-
bably return to Greece. I have heard nothing of
Mr. Hanson but one remittance, without any letter
from that legal gentleman. If you have occasion
for any pecuniary supply, pray use my funds as far
as they go without reserve ; and, lest this should not
be enough, in my next to Mr. Hanson I will direct
him to advance any sum you may want, leaving it to
your discretion how much, in the present state of
my affairs, you may think proper to require. I have
already seen the most interesting parts of Turkey in
Europe and Asia Minor, but shall not proceed fur-
ther till I hear from England : in the mean time I
shall expect occasional supplies, according to cir-
cumstances ; and shall pass my summer amongst
my friends, the Greeks of the Morea."

freshly, was but little less than two hours in crossing the river."
In swimming from Sestos to Abydos, he was one hour and
ten minutes in the water.

In the year 1808, he had been nearly drowned, while
swimming at Brighton with Mr. L. Stanhope. His friend
Mr. Hobhouse, and otlier bystanders, sent in some boatmen,
with ropes tied round them, who at last succeeded in dragging
JiOrd Byron and Mr. Stanhope from the surf and thus saved
tlieir lives.

1810. LIFE OF LOUD BYRON. 325

He then adds, with his usual kind soHcitude about
his favourite servants : —

" Pray take care of my boy Robert, and the old
man Murray. It is fortunate they returne|l ; neither
the youth of the one, nor the age of the other, would
have suited the changes of climate, and fatigue of
travelling."

Letter 44. TO MR. HENRY DRURY.

" Constantinople, June 17. 1810.

" Though I wrote to you so recently, I break in
upon you again to congratulate you on a child being
born, as a letter from Hodgson apprizes me of that
event, in which I rejoice.

" I am just come from an expedition through the
Bosphorus to the Black Sea and the Cyanean Sym-
plegades, up which last I scrambled with as great
risk as ever the Argonauts escaped in their hoy.
You remember the beginning of the nurse's dole in
the Medea, of which I beg you to take the following
translation, done on the summit : —

" Oh how I wish that an embargo

Had kept in port the good ship Argo !

Who, still unlaunch'd from Grecian docks.

Had never passed the Azure rocks ;

But now I fear her trip will be a

Damn'd business for my Miss Medea, &c. &c.,

as it very nearly was to me ; — for, had not this sub-
lime passage been in my head, I should never have
dreamed of ascending the said rocks, and bruising
my carcass in honour of the ancients.

" I have now sat on the Cyaneans, swam from Ses-

Y 3

323 NOTICES OF THE

1810.

tos to Abydos (as I trumpeted in my last), and, after
passing through the Morea again, shall set sail for
Santo Maura, and toss myself from the Leucadian
promontory ; — surviving which operation, I shall
probably join you in England. H., who will deliver
this, is bound straight for these parts ; and, as he is
bursting with his travels, I shall not anticipate his
narratives, but merely beg you not to believe one
word he says, but reserve your ear for me, if you
have any desire to be acquainted with the truth.

" I am bound for Athens once more, and thence
to the Morea ; but my stay depends so much on my
caprice, that I can say nothing of its probable dura-
tion. I have been out a year already, and may stay
another ; but I am quicksilver, and say nothing posi-
tively. We are all very much occupied doing no-
thing, at present. We have seen every thing but the
mosques, which we are to view with a firman on
Tuesday next. But of these and other sundries let
H. relate with this proviso, that /am to be referred
to for authenticity ; and I beg leave to contradict all
those things whereon he lays particular stress. But,
if he soars at any time into wit, I give you leave to
applaud, because that is necessarily stolen from his
fellow-pilgrim. Tell Davies that H. has made ex-
cellent use of his best jokes in many of his Majesty's
ships of war ; but add, also, that I always took care
to restore them to the right owner ; in consequence
of which he (Davies) is no less famous by water than
by land, and reigns unrivalled in the cabin as in the
' Cocoa Tree.'

" And Hodgson has been publishing more poesy

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 327

— I wish he would send me his ' Sir Edgar,' and
' Bland's Anthology,' to Malta, where they will be
forwarded. In my last, which I hope you received,
I gave an outline of the ground we have covered.
If you have not been overtaken by this despatch,
H.'s tongue is at your service. Remember me to
Dwyer, who owes me eleven guineas. Tell him to
put them in my banker's hands at Gibraltar or Con-
stantinople. I believe he paid them once, but that
goes for nothing, as it was an annuity.

" I wish you would write. I have heard from
Hodgson frequently. Malta is my post-office. I
mean to be with you by next Montem. You re-
member the last, — I hope for such another ; but
after having swam across the ' broad Hellespont,' I
disdain Datchett. * Good afternoon ! I am yours,
very sincerely,

" Byron."

About ten days after the date of this letter, we find
another addressed to Mrs. Byron, which — with much
that is merely a repetition of what he had detailed in
former communications — contains also a good deal
worthy of being extracted.

* Alluding to his having swum across the Thames with
Mr. H. Drury, after the Montem, to see how many times
they could perform the passage backwards and forwards
without touching land. In this trial (which took place at
night, after supper, when both were heated with drinking,)
Lord Byron was the conqueror.

y 4>

328 NOTICES OF THE

1810.

Letter 45. TO MRS. BYRON.

" Dear Mother,

"Mr. Hobhouse, who will forward or deliver this
and is on his return to England, can inform you of
our different movements, but I am very uncertain as
to my own return. He will probably be down in
Notts, some time or other ; but Fletcher, whom I
send back as an incumbrance (English servants are
sad travellers), will supply his place in the interim,
and describe our travels, which have been tolerably
extensive.

" I remember Mahmout Pacha, the grandson of
Ali Pacha, at Yanina, (a little fellow of ten years of
age, with large black eyes, which our ladies would
purchase at any price, and those regular features
which distinguish the Turks,) asked me how I came
to travel so young, without anybody to take care of
me. This question was put by the little man with
all the gravity of threescore. I cannot now write
copiously ; I have only time to tell you that I have
passed many a fatiguing, but never a tedious moment ;
and all that I am afraid of is that I shall contract
a gipsylike wandering disposition, which will make
home tiresome to me : this, I am told, is very common
with men in the habit of peregrination, and, indeed,
I feel it so. On the third of May I swam from Sestos
to Ahijdos. You know the story of Leander, but I
had no Hero to receive me at landing.

" I have been in all the principal mosques by the
virtue of a firman : this is a favour rarely permitted
to infidels, but the ambassador's departure obtained
it for us. I have been up the Bosphorus into the

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 329

Black Sea, round the walls of the city, and, indeed,
I know more of it by sight than I do of London. I
hope to amuse you some winter's evening with the
details, but at present you must excuse me ; — I am
not able to write long letters in June. I return to
spend my summer in Greece.

" F. is a poor creature, and requires comforts that
I can dispense with. He is very sick of his travels,
but you must not believe his account of the country.
He sighs for ale, and idleness, and a wife, and the
devil knows what besides. I have not been disap-
pointed or disgusted. I have lived with the highest
and the lowest. I have been for days in a Pacha's
palace, and have passed many a night in a cowhouse,
and I find the people inoffensive and kind. I have
also passed some time with the principal Greeks in
the Morea and Livadia, and, though inferior to the
Turks, they are better than the Spaniards, who, in
their turn, excel the Portuguese. Of Constantinople
you will find many descriptions in different travels ;
but Lady Wortley errs strangely when she says, ' St.
Paul's would cut a strange figure by St. Sophia's.'
I have been in both, surveyed them inside and out
attentively. St. Sophia's is undoubtedly the most
interesting from its immense antiquit)', and the cir-
cumstance of all the Greek emperors, from Justinian,
having been crowned there, and several murdered at
the altar, besides the Turkish sultans who attend it
regularly. But it is inferior in beauty and size to
some of the mosques, particularly ' Soleyman,' Sec,
and not to be mentioned in the same page with St.
Paul's (I speak like a Cockney). However, I prefer

330 NOTICES OF THE

1810.

the Gothic cathedral of Seville to St. Paul's, St.
Sophia's, and any religious building I have ever
seen.

" The walls of the Seraglio are like the walls of
Newstead gardens, only higher, and much in the
same order ; but the ride by the walls of the city,
on the land side, is beautiful. Imagine four miles
of immense triple battlements, covered with ivy,
surmounted with 218 towers, and, on the other side
of the road, Turkish burying-grounds (the loveliest
spots on earth), full of enormous cypresses. I have
seen the ruins of Athens, of Ephesus, and Delphi.
I have traversed great part of Turkey, and many
other parts of Europe, and some of Asia ; but I
never beheld a work of nature or art which yielded
an impression like the prospect on each side from
the Seven Towers to the end of the Golden Horn.

" Now for England. I am glad to hear of the pro-
gress of ' English Bards,' &c. ; — of course, you
observed I have made great additions to the new
edition. Have you received my picture from San-
ders, Vigo Lane, London ? It was finished and paid
for long before I left England : pray, send for it.
You seem to be a mighty reader of magazines :
where do you pick up all this intelligence, quota-
tions, &c. &c. ? Though I was happy to obtain my
seat without the assistance of Lord Carlisle, I had
no measures to keep with a man who declined
interfering as my relation on that occasion, and I
have done with him, though I regret distressing
Mrs. Leigh, poor thing ! — I hope she is happy.

" It is my opinion tlaat Mr. B * * ought to marry

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 331

Miss R * *. Our first duty is not to do evil ; but,
alas ! that is impossible : our next is to repair it, if
in our power. The girl is his equal : if she were
his inferior, a sum of money and provision for the
child would be some, though a poor, compensation :
as it is, he should marry her. I will have no gay
deceivers on my estate, and I shall not allow my
tenants a privilege I do not permit myself — that of
debauching each other's daughters. God knows, I
have been guilty of many excesses ; but, as I have
laid down a resolution to reform, and lately kept it,
I expect this Lothario to follow the example, and
begin by restoring this girl to society, or, by the
beard of my father ! he shall hear of it. Pray take
some notice of Robert, who will miss his master :
poor boy, he was very unwilling to return. I trust
you are well and happy. It will be a pleasure to
hear from you. Believe me yours very sincerely,

" Byron.

" P. S.— How is Joe Murray ?

" P. S. — I open my letter again to tell you that
Fletcher having petitioned to accompany me into the
Morea, I have taken him with me, contrary to the
intention expressed in my letter."

Tlie reader has not, I trust, passed carelessly over
the latter part of this letter. There is a healthful-
ness in the moral feeling so unaffectedly expressed
in it, which seems to answer for a heart sound at
the core, however passion might have scorched it.
Some years after, when he had become more con-
firmed in that artificial tone of banter, in which it

332 NOTICES OF THE 1810.

was, unluckily, his habit to speak of his own good
feehngs, as well as those of others, however capable
he might still have been of the same amiable senti-
ments, I question much whether the perverse fear
of being thought desirous to pass for moral would
not have prevented him from thus naturally and ho-
nestly avowing them.

The following extract from a communication ad-
dressed to a distinguished monthly work, by a tra-
veller who, at this period, happened to meet with
Lord Byron at Constantinople, bears sufficiently the
features of authenticity to be presented, without
hesitation, to my readers.

" We were interrupted in our debate by the en-
trance of a stranger, whom, on the first glance, I
guessed to be an Englishman, but lately arrived at
Constantinople. He wore a scarlet coat, richly
embroidered with gold, in the style of an English
aide-de-camp's dress uniform, with two heavy epau-
lettes. His countenance announced him to be about
the age of two-and-twenty. His features were
remarkably delicate, and would have given him a
feminine appearance, but for the manly expression
of his fine blue eyes. On entering the inner shop,
he took off his feathered cocked-hat, and showed a
head of curly auburn hair, which improved in no
small degree the uncommon beauty of his face. The
impression which his whole appearance made upon
my mind was such, that it has ever since remained
deeply engraven on it ; and although fifteen years
have since gone by, the lapse of time has not in the
slightest degree impaired the freshness of the recol-

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 333

lection. He was attended by a Janissary attached
to the English embassy, and by a person who pro-
fessionally acted as a Cicerone to strangers. These
circumstances, together with a very visible lameness
in one of his legs, convinced me at once he was Lord
Byron. I had already heard of his Lordship, and of
his late arrival in the Salsette frigate, which had
come up from the Smyrna station, to fetch away Mr.
Adair, our ambassador to the Porte. Lord Byron
had been previously ti-avelling in Epirus and Asia
Minor, with his friend Mr. Hobhouse, and had
become a great amateur of smoking : he was con-
ducted to this shop for the purpose of purchasing a
few pipes. The indifferent Italian, in which lan-
guage he spoke to his Cicerone, and the latter's still
more imperfect Turkish, made it difficult for the
shopkeeper to understand their wishes, and as this
seemed to vex the stranger, I addressed him in
English, offering to interpret for him. When his
Lordship thus discovered me to be an Englishman,
he shook me cordially by the hand, and assured me,
with some warmth in his manner, that he always felt
great pleasure when he met with a countryman
abroad. His purchase and my bargain being com-
pleted, we walked out together, and rambled about
the streets, in several of which I had the pleasure of
directing his attention to some of the most remark-
able curiosities in Constantinople. The peculiar
circumstances under which our acquaintance took
place, established between us, in one day, a certain
degree of intimacy, which two or three years' fre-
(juenting each other's company in England would

334) NOTICES OF THE 1810.

most likely not have accomplished. I frequently
addressed him by his name, but he did not think of
enquiring how I came to learn it, nor of asking mine.
His Lordship had not yet laid the foundation of that
literary renown which he afterwards acquired ; on
the contrary, he was only known as the author of his
Hours of Idleness ; and the severity with which the
Edinburgh Reviewers had criticised that production
■was still fresh in every English reader's recollection.
I could not, therefore, be supposed to seek his
acquaintance from any of those motives of vanity
which have actuated so many others since : but it
was natural that, after our accidental rencontre, and
all that passed between us on that occasion, I should,
on meeting him in the course of the same week at
dinner at the English ambassador's, have requested
one of the secretaries, who was intimately acquainted
with him, to introduce me to him in regular form.
His Lordship testified his perfect recollection of me,
but in the coldest manner, and immediately after
turned his back on me. This unceremonious pro-
ceeding, forming a striking contrast with previous
occurrences, had something so strange in it, that I
was at a loss how to account for it, and felt at the
same time much disposed to entertain a less favour-
able opinion of his Lordship than his apparent frank-
ness had inspired me with at our first meeting. It
was not, therefore, without surprise, that, some days
after, I saw him in the streets, coming up to me with
a smile of good nature in his countenance. He
accosted me in a familiar manner, and, offering me
his hand, said, — 'I am an enemy to English eti-

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 335

quette, especially out of England ; and I always
make my own acquaintance without waiting for the
formality of an introduction. If you have nothing to
do, and are disclosed for another ramble, I shall be
glad of your company.' There was that irresistible
attraction in his manner, of which those who have
had the good fortune to be admitted into his intimacy
can alone have felt the power in his moments of
good humour ; and I readily accepted his proposal.
We visited again more of the most remarkable
curiosities of the capital, a description of which
would here be but a repetition of what a hundred
travellers have already detailed with the utmost
minuteness and accuracy ; but his Lordship expressed
much disappointment at their want of interest. He
praised the picturesque beauties of the town itself,
and its surrounding scenery ; and seemed of opinion
that nothing else was worth looking at. He spoke
of the Turks in a manner which might have given
reason to suppose that he had made a long residence
among them, and closed his observations with these
words : — ' The Greeks will, sooner or later, rise
against them ; but if they do not make haste, I hope
Buonaparte will come, and drive the useless rascals
away. *

During his stay at Constantinople, the English
minister, Mr. Adair, being indisposed the greater
part of the time, had but few opportunities of seeing
him. He, however, pressed him, with much hospi-
tality, to accept a lodging at the English palace,

* New Monthly Magazine.

336 NOTICES OF THE J810.

which Lord Byron, preferring the freedom of his
homely inn, declined. At the audience granted to
the ambassador, on his taking leave, by the Sultan,
the noble poet attended in the train of Mr. Adair,
— having shown an anxiety as to the place he was
to hold in the procession, not a little characteristic
of his jealous pride of rank. In vain had the minis-
ter assured him that no particular station could be
allotted to him ; — that the Turks, in their ar-
rangements for the ceremonial, considered only the
persons connected with the embassy, and neither at-
tended to, nor acknowledged, the precedence which
our forms assign to nobility. Seeing the young
peer still unconvinced by these representations,
Mr. Adair was, at length, obliged to refer him to
an authority, considered infallible on such points of
etiquette, the old Austrian Internuncio; — on con-
sulting whom, and finding his opinions agree fully
with those of the English minister. Lord Byron de-
clared himself perfectly satisfied.

On the 14th of July his fellow-traveller and him-
self took their departure from Constantinople on board
the Salsette frigate, — Mr. Hobhouse with the in-
tention of accompanying the ambassador to England,
and Lord Byron with the resolution of visiting his
beloved Greece again. To Mr. Adair he appeared,
at this time, (and I find that Mr. Bruce, who met him
afterwards at Athens, conceived the same impression
of him,) to be labouring under great dejection of
spirits. One circumstance related to me, as having
occurred in the course of the passage, is not a little
striking. Perceiving, as he walked the deck, a small

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYROX. 337

yataghan, or Turkish dagger, on one of the benches,
he took it up, unsheathed it, and, having stood for a
few moments contemplating the bhide, was heard to
say, in an under voice, " I should like to know how a
person feels after committing a murder ! " In this
startling speech we may detect, I think, the germ of
his future Giaours and Laras. This intense ivish to
explore the dark workings of the passions was what,
with the aid of imagination, at length generated the
power ; and that faculty which entitled him afterwards
to be so truly styled " the searcher of dark bosoms,"
may be traced to, perhaps, its earliest stirrings in the
sort of feeling that produced these words.

On their approaching the island of Zea, he ex-
pressed a wish to be put on shore. Accordingly,
having taken leave of his companions, he was landed
upon this small island, with two Albanians, a Tartar,
and one English servant ; and in one of his manu-
scripts he has himself described the proud, solitary
feeling with which he stood to see the ship sail
swiftly away — leaving him there, in a land of stran-
gers alone.

A few days after, he addressed the following let-
ters to Mrs. Byron from Athens.

Letter 46. TO MRS. BYRON.

" Athens, July 25. 1810.

«' Dear Mother,

" I have arrived here in four days from Constan-
tinople, which is considered as singularly quick,
particularly for the season of the year. You northern
gentry can have no conception of a Greek summer;
VOL. I z

338 KOTICES OF THE 1810.

which, however, is a perfect frost compared with
Malta and Gibraltar, where I reposed myself in the
shade last year, after a gentle gallop of four hundred
miles, without intermission, through Portugal and
Spain. You see, by my date, that I am at Athens
again, a place which I think I prefer, upon the whole,
to any I have seen.

" My next movement is to-morrow into the Mo-
rea, where I shall probably remain a month or two,
and then return to winter here, if I do not change
my plans, which, however, are very variable, as you
may suppose ; but none of them verge to England.

" The Marquis of Sligo, my old fellow-collegian,
IS here, and wishes to accompany me into the INIorea.
We shall go together for that purpose. Lord S. will
afterwards pursue his way to the capital ; and Lord
B., having seen all the wonders in that quarter, will
let you know what he does next, of which at present
he is not quite certain. Malta is my perpetual post-
office, from which my letters are forwarded to all
parts of the habitable globe : —by the by, I have now
been in Asia, Africa, and the east of Europe, and,
indeed, made the most of my time, without hurrying
over the most interesting scenes of the ancient world.
F * *, after having been toasted, and roasted, and
baked, and grilled, and eaten by all sorts of creeping
things, begins to philosophise, is grown a refined as
well as a resigned character, and promises at his re-
turn to become an ornament to his own parish, and a
very prominent person in the future family pedigree
of the F * * s, who I take to be Goths by their
accomplishments, Greeks by their acuteness, and

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 339

ancient Saxons by their appetite. He (F * *) begs
leave to send half-a-dozen sighs to Sally his spouse,
and wonders (though I do not) that his ill written
and worse spelt letters have never come to hand ; as
for that matter, there is no great loss in either of our
letters, saving and except that 1 wish you to know
we are well, and warm enough at this present writ-
ing, God knows. You must not expect long letters
at present, for they are written with the sweat of
my brow, I assure you. It is rather singular that Mr.
H * * has not written a syllable since my departure.
Your letters I have mostly received as well as
others ; from which I conjecture that the man of
law is either angry or busy.

" I trust you like Newstead, and agree with your
neighbours ; but you know you are a vixen — is not
that a dutiful appellation ? Pray, take care of my
books and several boxes of papers in the hands of
Joseph ; and pray leave me a few bottles of cham-
pagne to drink, for I am very thirsty ; — but I do
not insist on the last article, without you like it. I
suppose you have your house full of silly women,
prating scandalous things. Have you ever received
my picture in oil from Sanders, London ? It has
been paid for these sixteen months : why do you not
get it ? My suite, consisting of two Turks, two
Greeks, a Lutheran, and the nondescript, Fletcher,
are making so much noise, that I am glad to sign
myself

" Yours, &c. &c. Byron."

2 2

SiO NOTICES OF THE

1810.

A day or two after the date of this, he left Athens
in company with the Marquis of SHgo. Having
travelled together as far as Corinth, they from thence
branched off in different directions, — Lord Sligo to
pay a visit to the capital of the Morea, and Lord
Byron to proceed to Patras, where he had some
business, as will be seen by the following letter, with
the English consul, Mr. Strane : —

Letter 47. TO MRS. BYRON.

" Patras, July SO. 1810.

" Dear Madam,

" In four days from Constantinople, with a
favourable wind, I arrived in the frigate at the
island of Ceos, from whence I took a boat to Athens,
where I met my friend the Marquis of Sligo, who
expressed a wish to proceed with me as far as
Corinth. At Corinth we separated, he for Tripo-
litza, I for Patras, where I had some business with
the consul, Mr. Strane, in whose house I now write.
He has rendered me every service in his power
since I quitted Malta on my way to Constantinople,
whence 1 have written to you twice or thrice. In a
few days I visit the Pacha at Tripolitza, make the
tour of the Morea, and return again to Athens,
which at present is my head-quarters. The heat is
at present intense. In England, if it reaches 9S°,
you are all on fire : the other day, in travelling
between Athens and Megara, the thermometer was
at 125° 1 I ! Yet I feel no inconvenience; of course
I am much bronzed, but I live temperately, and
never enjoyed better health.

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 311

" Before I left Constantinople, I saw the Sultan
(with Mr. Adair), and the interior of the mosques,
things which rarely happen to travellers. Mr. Hob-
house is gone to England : I am in no hurry to
return, but have no particular communications for
your country, except my surprise at Mr. H * * 's
silence, and my desire that he will remit regularly.
I suppose some arrangement has been made with
regard to Wymondham and Rochdale. Malta is my
post-office, or to Mr. Strane, consul-general, Patras,
Morea. You complain of my silence — I have
written twenty or thirty times within the last year :
never less than twice a month, and often more. If
my letters do not arrive, you nmst not conclude that
we are eaten, or that there is a war, or a pestilence, or
famine : neither must you credit silly reports, which
I dare say you have in Notts., as usual. I am very
well, and neither more nor less happy than I usually
am ; except that I am very glad to be once more
alone, for I was sick of my comjianion, — not that he
was a bad one, but because my nature leads me to
solitude, and that every day adds to this disposition.
If I chose, here are many men who would wish to
join me — one wants me to go to Egypt, another to
Asia, of which I have seen enough. The greater
part of Greece is already my own, so that I shall
only go over my old ground, and look upon my old
seas and mountains, the only acquaintances I ever
found improve upon me.

" I have a tolerable suite, a Tartar, two Albanians,
an interpreter, besides Fletcher; but in this country
these are easily maintained. Adair received me

z 3

542 NOTICES OF THE 1810.

wonderfully well, and indeed I have no complaints
against any one. Hospitality here is necessary, for
inns are not. I have lived in the houses of Greeks,
Turks, Italians, and English — to-day in a palace,
to-morrow in a cowhouse ; this day with a Pacha, the
next with a shepherd. I shall continue to write
briefly, but frequently, and am glad to hear from
you ; but you fill your letters with things from the
papers, as if English papers were not found all over
the world. I have at this moment a dozen before
me. Pray take care of rny books, and believe me,
my dear mother, yours," &c.

The greater part of the two following months he
appears to have occupied in making a tour of the
Morea * ; and the very distinguished reception he
met with from Veley Pacha, the son of Ali, is men-
tioned with much pride, in more than one of his
letters.

On his return from this tour to Patras, he was
seized with a fit of illness, the particulars of which
are mentioned in the following letter to Mr. Hodgson ;
and they are, in many respects, so similar to those of
the last fatal malady, with which, fourteen years
afterwards, he was attacked, in nearly the same spot,

* In a note upon the Advertisement prefixed to his Siege
of Corinth, he says, — " I visited all three ( Tripoli tza, Napoli,
and Argos,) in 1810-11, and in the course of journeying
through the country, from my first arrival in 1809, crossed
the Isthmus eight times in my way from Attica to the Morea,
over the mountains, or in the other direction, when passing
from the Gulf of Athens to that of Lepanto."

1810 LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 343

that, livelily as the account is written, it is difficult to
read it without melancholy : ■. —

Letter 48. TO MR. HODGSON.

" Patras, Morea, October 3. 1810.

" As I have just escaped from a physician and
a fever, which confined me five days to bed, you
won't expect much 'allegrezza' in the ensuing letter.
In this place there is an indigenous distemper, which,
when the wind blows from the Gulf of Corinth (as
it does five months out of six), attacks great and
small, and makes woful work with visiters. Here
be also two physicians, one of whom trusts to his
genius (never having studied) — the other to a cam-
paign of eighteen months against the sick of Otranto,
which he made in his youth with great effect.

" When I was seized with my disorder, I protested
against both these assassins ; — but what can a
helpless, feverish, toast-and-watered poor wretch
do? In spite of my teeth and tongue, the English
consul, my Tartar, Albanians, dragoman, forced a
physician upon me, and in three days vomited and
glystered me to the last gasp. In this state I made
my epitaph — take it : —

" Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove,
To keep my lamp in strongly strove ;
I3ut Romanelli was so stout,
He beat all three — and bleiu it out.

But Nature and Jove, being piqued at my doubts,
did, in fact, at last, beat Romanelli, and here I am,
well but weakly, at your service.

z 4

344) NOTICES OF THE 1810.

" Since I left Constantinople, I have made a tour
of the Morea, and visited Veley Pacha, who paid me
great honours, and gave me a pretty stallion. H. is
doubtless in England before even the date of this
letter:— hebearsadespatchfromme to your hardship.
He writes to nie from Malta, and requests my journal,
if I keep one. I have none, or he should have it ;
but I have replied in a consolatory and exhortatory
epistle, praying him to abate three and sixpence in
the price of his next boke. seeing that half-a-guinea
is a price not to be given for any thing save an opera
ticket.

" As for England, it is long since I have heard
from it. Every one at all connected with my con-
cerns is asleep, and you are my only correspondent,
agents excepted. I have really no friends in the
world ; though all my old school companions are
gone forth into that Avorld, and walk about there in
monstrous disguises, in the garb of guardsmen,
lawyers, parsons, fine gentlemen, and such other
masquerade dresses. So, I here shake hands and
cut with all these busy people, none of whom write
to me. Indeed I ask it not ; — and here I am, a poor
traveller and heathenish philosopher, who hath per-
ambulated the greatest part of the Levant, and seen
a great quantity of very improvable land and sea,
and, after all, am no better than when I set out —
Lord help me !

" I have been out fifteen months this very day, and
I believe my concerns will draw me to England soon ;
but of this I will apprise you regularly from Malta.
On all points Hobhouse will inform you, if you are

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYKON. 345

curious as to our adventures. I have seen some old
English papers up to the 15th of May. I see the
' Lady of the Lake' advertised. Of course it is in
his old ballad style, and pretty. After all, Scott is
the best of them. The end of all scribblement is to
amuse, and he certainly succeeds there. I long to
read his new romance.

" And how does ' Sir Edgar?' and your friend
Bland ? I suppose you are involved in some literary
squabble. The only way is to despise all brothers of
the quill. I suppose you won't allow me to be an
author, but I contemn you all, you dogs ! — I do.

" You don't know D s, do you? He had a

farce ready for the stage before I left England, and
asked me for a prologue, which I promised, but
sailed in such a hurry, I never penned a couplet. I
am afraid to ask after his drama, for fear it should
be damned — Lord forgive me for using such a word !
but the pit, Sir, you know the pit — they will do
those things in spite of merit. I remember this
farce from a curious circumstance. When Drury
Lane was burnt to the ground, by which accident
Sheridan and his son lost the few remaining shillings

they were worth, what doth my friend D do ?

Why, before the fire was out, he writes a note to
Tom Sheridan, the manager of this combustible
concern, to enquire whether this farce was not con-
verted into fuel, with about two thousand other
unactable manuscripts, which of course were in great
peril, if not actually consumed. Now was not this
characteristic? — the ruling passions of Pope are
nothing to it. Whilst the poor distracted manager

346 NOTICES OF THE

1810,

was bewailing the loss of a building only worth
300,000/., together with some twenty thousand
pounds of rags and tinsel in the tiring rooms, Blue-
beard's elephants, and all that — in comes a note
from a scorching author, requiring at his hands two
acts and odd scenes of a farce ! !

" Dear H., remind Drury that I am his well-
wisher, and let Scrope Davies be well affected
towards me. I look forward to meeting you at
Newstead, and renewing our old champagne evenings
with all the glee of anticipation. I have written by
every opportunity, and expect responses as regular
as those of the liturgy, and somewhat longer. As
it is impossible for a man in his senses to hope for
happy days, let us at least look forward to merry
ones, which come nearest to the other in appear-
ance, if not in reality ; and in such expectations I
remain," &c.

He was a good deal weakened and thinned by his
illness at Patras, and, on his return to Athens, stand-
ing one day before a looking-glass, he said to Lord
Sligo — " How pale I look ! — I should like, I think,
to die of a consumption." — "Wliy of a consumption?"
asked his friend. " Because then (he answered)
the women would all say, ' See that poor Byron —
how interesting he looks in dying ! ' " In this anec-
dote, — which, slight as it is, the relater remembered,
as a proof of the poet's consciousness of his own
beauty, — may be traced also the habitual reference
of his imagination to that sex, which, however he

18T0. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. St?

afFected to despise it, influenced, more or less, the
flow and colour of all his thoughts.

He spoke often of his mother to Lord Sligo, and
with a feeling that seemed little short of aversion.
" Some time or other," he said, " I will tell you why I
feel thus towards her." — A few days after, when
they were bathing together in the Gulf of Lepanto,
he referred to this promise, and, pointing to his
naked leg and foot, exclaimed — " Look there ! — it
is to her false delicacy at my birth I owe that de-
formity ; and yet, as long as I can remember, she
has never ceased to taunt and reproach me with it.
Even a few days before we parted, for the last time,
on my leaving England, she, in one of her fits of
passion, uttered an imprecation upon me, praying that
I might prove as ill formed in mind as I am in
body ! " His look and manner, in relating this fright-
ful circumstance, can be conceived only by those
who have ever seen him in a similar state of excite-
ment.

The little value he had for those relics of ancient
art, in pursuit of which he saw all his classic fellow-
travellers so ardent, was, like every thing he ever
thought or felt, unreservedly avowed by him. Lord
Sligo having it in contemplation to expend some
money in digging for antiquities, Lord Byron, in
offering to act as his agent, and to see the money,
at least, honestly applied, said — " You may safely
trust me — I am no dilettante. Your connoisseurs
are all thieves ; but I care too little for these things
ever to steal them."

The system of thinning himself, which he had

348 NOTICES OF THE 1810.

begun before he left England, was continued still
more rigidly abroad. While at Athens, he took the
hot bath for this purpose, three times a week, — his
usual drink being vinegar and water, and his food
seldom more than a little rice.

Among the persons, besides Lord Sligo, whom he
saw most of at this time, were Lady Hester Stan-
hope and Mr. Bruce. One of the first objects,
indeed, that met the eyes of these two distinguished
travellers, on their approaching the coast of Attica,
was Lord Byron, disporting in his favourite element
under the rocks of Cape Colonna. They were after-
wards made acquainted with each other by Lord
Sligo ; and it was in the course, I believe, of their
first interview, at his table, that Lady Hester, with
that lively eloquence for which she is so remarkable,
took the poet briskly to task for the depreciating
opinion, which, as she understood, he entertained of
all female intellect. Being but little inclined, were
he even able, to sustain such a heresy, against one
who was in her own person such an irresistible
refutation of it. Lord Byron had no other refuge from
the fair orator's arguments than in assent and
silence ; and this well-bred deference being, in a
sensible woman's eyes, equivalent to concession, they
became, from thenceforward, most cordial friends.
In recalling some recollections of this period in his
" Memoranda," after relating the circumstance of
his being caught bathing by an English party at
Sunium, he added, " This was the beginning of the
most delightful acquaintance which I formed in
Greece." He then went on to assure Mr. Bruce,

1810. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 349

if ever those pages should meet liis eyes, that the
days they had passed together at Athens were
remembered by him witli pleasure.

During this period of his stay in Greece, we find
him forming one of those extraordinary friendships,
— if attachment to persons so inferior to himself can
be called by that name, — of which I have already
mentioned two or three instances in his younger days,
and in which the pride of being a protector, and the
pleasure of exciting gratitude, seem to have consti-
tuted to his mind the chief, pervading charm. The
person, whom he now adopted in this manner, and
from similar feelings to those which had inspired his
early attachments to the cottage-boy near Newstead,
and the young chorister at Cambridge, was a Greek
youth, named Nicolo Giraud, the son, I believe, of a
widow lady, in whose house the artist Lusieri lodged.
In this young man he appears to have taken the
most lively, and even brotherly, interest ; — so much
so, as not only to have presented to him, on their
parting, at Malta, a considerable sum of money, but
to have subsequently designed for him, as the reader
will learn, a still more munificent, as well as per-
manent, provision.

Though he occasionally made excursions through
Attica and the Morea, his head-quarters were fixed
at Athens, where he had taken lodgings in a Fran-
ciscan convent, and, in the intervals of his tours, em-
ployed hmself in collecting materials for those
notices on the state of modern Greece which he has
appended to the second Canto of Childe Harold. In
this retreat, also, as if in utter defiance of the

350 NOTICES OF THE

1811.

"genius loci," he wrote his " Hints from Horace,"—
a Satire which, impregnated as it is with London
life from beginning to end, bears the date, "Athens,
Capuchin Convent, March 12. J 811."

From the few remaining letters addressed to his
mother, I shall content myself with selecting the two
following : —

Letter 49. TO MRS. BYROK

" Athens, January 14. 1811.

" My dear Madam,

" I seize an occasion to write as usual, shortly,
but frequently, as the arrival of letters, where there
exists no regular communication, is, of course, very
precarious. I have lately made several small tours
of some hundred or two miles about the Morea,
Attica, &c., as I have finished my grand giro by the
Troad, Constantinople, &c., and am returned down
again to Athens. 1 believe I have mentioned to you
more than once that I swam (in imitation of Leander,
though without his lady) across the Hellespont, from
Sestos to Abydos. Of this, and all other particulars,
F., whom I have sent home with papers, &c., will
apprise you. 1 cannot find that he is any loss ;
being tolerably master of the Italian and modern
Greek languages, which last I am also studying
with a master, I can order and discourse more than
enough for a reasonable man. Besides, the perpetual
lamentations after beef and beer, the stupid, bigoted
contempt for every thing foreign, and insurmountable
incapacity of acquiring even a few words of any lan-
guage, rendered him, like all other English servants.

1811. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 351

an incumbrance. I do assure you, the plague of
speaking for him, the comforts he required (more
than myself by far), the pilaws (a Turkish dish oi
rice and meat) which he could not eat, the wines
which he could not drink, the beds where he could
not sleep, and the long list of calamities, such as
stumbling horses, want of tea f / / &c., which as-
sailed him, would have made a lasting source of
laughter to a spectator, and inconvenience to a
master. After all, the man is honest enough, and,
in Christendom, capable enough ; but in Turkey,
Lord forgive me ! my Albanian soldiers, my Tartars
and Janissar}', worked for him and us too, as my
friend Hobhouse can testify.

" It is probable I may steer homewards in spring;
but to enable me to do that, I must have remit-
tances. My own funds would have lasted me very
well ; but I was obliged to assist a friend, who, I
know, will pay me ; but, in the mean time, I am out
of pocket. At present, I do not care to venture a
winter's voyage, even if I were otherwise tired of
travelling; but I am so convinced of the advantages
of looking at mankind instead of reading about them,
and the bitter effects of staying at home with all the
narrow prejudices of an islander, that I think there
should be a law amongst us, to set our young men
abroad, for a term, among the few allies our wars
have left us.

" Here I see and have conversed with French,
Italians, Germans, Danes, Greeks, Turks, Americans,
&c. &c. &c. ; and without losing sight of my own,
I can judge of the countries and manners of others.

352 XOTICES OF THE ]S11.

Where I see the superiority of England (which, by
the by, we are a good deal mistaken about in many
things,) I am pleased, and where I find her inferior,
I am at least enlightened. Now, I might have stayed^
smoked in your towns, or fogged in your country, a
century, without being sure of this, and without
acquiring any thing more useful or amusing at
home. I keep no journal, nor have I any intention
of scribbling my travels. I have done with author-
ship ; and if, in my last production, I have convinced
the critics or the world I was something more than
they took me for, I am satisfied ; nor will I hazard
that reputation by a future effort. It is true I have
some others in manuscript, but I leave them for those
who come after me ; and, if deemed worth publish-
ing, they may serve to prolong my memory Avhen I
myself shall cease to remember. I have a famous
Bavarian artist taking some views of Athens, &c. &c.
for me. This will be better than scribbling, a dis-
ease I hope myself cured of. I hope, on my return,
to lead a quiet, recluse life, but God knows and
does best for us all; at least, so they say, and I
have nothing to object, as, on the whole, I have no
reason to complain of my lot. I am convinced,
however, that men do more harm to themselves
than ever the devil could do to them. I trust this
will find you well, and as happy as we can be ; you
will, at least, be pleased to hear I am so, and yours
ever.'*

1811. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 353

Letter 50. TO MRS. BYRON.

« Athens, February 28. 1811.

" Dear Madam,

" As I have received a firman for Egypt, &c., I
shall proceed to that quarter in the spring, and I beg
you will state to Mr. H. that it is necessary to fur-
ther remittances. On the subject of Newstead, I
answer as before, No. If it is necessary to sell, sell
Rochdale. Fletcher will have arrived by this time
with my letters to that purport. I will tell you
fairly, I have, in the first place, no opinion of funded
property ; if, by any particular circumstances, I shall
be led to adopt such a determination, I will, at all
events, pass my life abroad, as my only tie to England
is Newstead, and, that once gone, neither interest
nor inclination lead me northward. Competence in
your country is ample wealth in the East, such is
the difference in the value of money and the abun-
dance of the necessaries of life ; and I feel myself so
much a citizen of the world, that the spot where I
can enjoy a delicious climate, and every luxury, at a
less expense than a common college life in England,
will always be a country to me ; and such are in fact
the shores of the Archipelago. This then is the
alternative — if I preserve Newstead, I return ; if I
sell it, I stay away. I have had no letters since
yours of June, but I have written several times, and
shall continue, as usual, on the same plan. Believe
me, yours ever, Byron.

" P. S. — I shall most likely see you in the course
of the summer, but, of course, at such a distance, 1
cannot specify any particular month."

VOL. I. A A

354 NOTICES OF THE 1811.

The voyage to Egypt, which he appears from this
letter to have contemplated, was, probably for want
of the expected remittances, relinquished ; and, on
the 3d of June, he set sail from Malta, in the Volage
frigate, for England, having, during his short stay at
Malta, suffered a severe attack of the tertian fever.
The feelings with which he returned home may be
collected from the following melancholy letters.

Letter 51. TO MR. HODGSON.

" Volage frigate, at sea, June 29. 1811.
" In a week, with a fair wind, we shall be at
Portsmouth, and on the 2d of July, I shall have com-
pleted (to a day) two years of peregrination, from
which I am returning with as little emotion as I set
out. I think, upon the whole, I was more grieved
at leaving Greece than England, which I am impa-
tient to see, simply because I am tired of a long
voyage.

" Indeed, my prospects are not very pleasant.
Embarrassed in my private affairs, indifferent to
public, solitary without the wish to be social, with a
body a little enfeebled by a succession of fevers,
but a spirit, I trust, yet unbroken, I am returning
home without a hope, and almost without a desire.
The first thing I shall have to encounter will be a
lawyer, the next a creditor, then colliers, farmers,
surveyors, and all the agreeable attachments to
estates out of repair, and contested coal-pits. In
short, I am sick and sorry, and when I have a little
repaired my irreparable affairs, away I shall march,
either to campaign in Spain, or back again to the

1811. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 355

East, where I can at least have cloudless skies and
a cessation from unpertinence.

" I trust to meet, or see you, in town, or at New-
stead, whenever you can make it convenient — I sup-
pose you are in love and in poetry as usual. That
husband, H. Drury, has never written to me, albeit
I have sent him more than one letter; — but I dare
say the poor man has a family, and of course all his
cares are confined to his circle.

• For children fresh expenses get,
And Dicky now for school is fit.'

Warton.

If you see him, tell him I have a letter for him from
Tucker, a regimental chirurgeon and friend of his,
who prescribed for me, * * * and is a very worthy
man, but too fond of hard words. I should be too
late for a speech-day, or I should probably go down
to Harrow. I regretted very much in Greece
having omitted to carry the Anthology with me —
I mean Bland and Merivale's. — What has Sir Edgar
done ? And the Imitations and Translations — where
are they ? I suppose you don't mean to let the public
off so easily, but charge them home with a quarto.
For me, I am ' sick of fops, and poesy, and prate,'
and shall leave the ' whole Castilian state' to Bufo,
or any body else. But you are a sentimental and
sensibilitous person, and will rhyme to the end of
the chapter. Howbeit, I have written some 4000
lines, of one kind or another, on my travels.

" I need not repeat that I shall be happy to
see you. I shall be in town about the 8th, at
Dorant's Hotel, in Albemarle Street, and proceed

A A 2

356 KOTICES OF THE

1811.

in a few days to Notts., and thence to Rochdale
on business.

" I am, here and there, yours," &c.

Letter 52. TO MRS. BYRON.

" Volage frigate, at sea, June 25. 1811.
" Dear Mother,

'' This letter, which will be forwarded on our
arrival at Portsmouth, probably about the 4th of
Jul}', is begun about twenty-three days after our
departure from INIalta. 1 have just been two j'ears
(to a day, on the 2d of July) absent from England,
and I return to it with much the same feelings Avhich
prevailed on my departure, viz. indifference ; but
within that apathy I certainly do not comprise your-
self, as I will prove by every means in my po\ver.
You will be good enough to get my apartments
ready at Newstead; but don't disturb yourself, on
any account, particularly mine, nor consider me in
any other light than as a visiter. I must only inform
you that for a long time I have been restricted to an
entire vegetable diet, neither fish nor flesh coming
within my regimen ; so I expect a powerful stock of
potatoes, greens, and biscuit : I drink no wine. I
have two servants, middle-aged men, and both
Greeks. It is my intention to proceed first to
town, to see Mr. H * *, and thence to Newstead,
on my way to Rochdale. I have only to beg you
will not forget my diet, which it is very necessary
for me to observe. I am well in health, as I have
generally been, with the exception of two agues,
both of which I quickly got over.

1811.

LIFE OF LORD BYRON, 357

" My plans v/ill so much depend on circumstances,
that I shall not venture to lay down an opinion on
the subject. My prospects are not very promising,
but I suppose we shall wrestle through lite like our
neighbours; indeed, by H.'s last advices, I have
some apprehension of finding Newstead dismantled
by Messrs. Brothers, &c., and he seems determined
to force me into selling it, but he will be baffled. I
don't suppose I shall be much pestered with visiters ;
but if I am, you must receive them, for I am deter-
mined to have nobody breaking in upon my retire-
ment : you know that I never was fond of society,
and I am less so than before. I have brought you
a shawl, and a quantity of attar of roses, but these I
must smuggle, if possible. I trust to find my library
in tolerable order.

" Fletcher is no doubt arrived. I shall separate
the mill from Mr. B * *'s farm, for his son is too gay
a deceiver to inherit both, and place Fletcher in it,
who has served me faithfully, and whose wife is a
good woman ; besides, it is necessary to sober young
Mr. B * *, or he will people the parish with bastards.
In a word, if he had seduced a dairy-maid, he might
have found something like an apology ; but the girl
is his equal, and in high life or low life reparation
is made in such circumstances. But I shall not
interfere further than (like Buonaparte) by dismem-
bering Mr. B.'s kingdom, and erecting part of it into
a principality for field-marshal Fletcher I I hope
you govern my little empire and its sad load of
national debt with a wary hand. To drop my me-
taphor, I beg leave to subscribe myself yours, &c.

358 NOTICES OF THE 1811.

" P. S. — This letter was written to be sent from
Portsmouth, but, on arriving there, the squadron
was ordered to the Nore, from whence I shall for-
ward it. This I have not done before, supposing
you might be alarmed by the interval mentioned in
the letter being longer than expected between our
arrival in port and my appearance at Newstead."

Letter 53. TO MR. HENRY DRURY,

" Volage frigate, ofF Ushant, July 17. 1811.
" My dear Drury,

" After two years' absence (on the 2d) and
some odd days, I am approaching your country.
The day of our arrival you will see by the outside
date of my letter. At present, we are becalmed
comfortably, close to Brest Harbour ; — I have
never been so near it since I left Duck Puddle. We
left Malta thirty-four days ago, and have had a tedi-
ous passage of it. You will either see or hear from
or of me, soon after the receipt of this, as I pass
through town to repair my irreparable affairs ; and
thence I want to go to Notts, and raise rents, and
to Lanes, and sell collieries, and back to London
and pay debts, — for it seems I shall neither have
coals nor comfort till I go down to Rochdale in
person.

" I have brought home some marbles for Hob-
house; — for myself, four ancient Athenian skulls*,
dug out of sarcophagi — a phial of Attic hemlock f

* Given afterwards to Sir Walter Scott.

f At present in the possession of Mr. Murray.

1811. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 359

— four live tortoises — a greyhound (died on the
passage) — two live Greek servants, one an Athe-
nian, t'other a Yaniote, who can speak nothing but
Romaic and Italian — and myself, as Moses in the
Vicar of Wakefield says, slily, and I may say it too,
for I have as little cause to boast of my expedition
as he had of his to the fair.

" I wrote to you from the Cyanean Rocks to tell
you I had swam from Sestos to Abydos — have you
received my letter? Hodgson I suppose is four
deep by this time. What would he have given to
have seen, like me, the real Parnassus.) where I
robbed the Bishop of Chrissae of a book of geogra-
phy ! — but this I only call plagiarism, as it was
done within an hour's ride of Delphi."

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

London:
fipoTTiswooDEs and SH.i
New-Street-Square.

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