"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 was 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 I could write a more sarcastic critique on myself than any yet published. For instance, instead of the remark,—ill-natured enough, but not keen,-about Macpherson, I (quoad reviewers) could have said, Alas, this imitation only proves the assertion of Doctor Johnson, that many men, women, and children, could write such poetry as Ossian's.' * "I am thin and in exercise. During the spring or summer I trust we shall meet. I 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 regard 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 reason 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, intimated 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, without 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 his own,* even the pleasures to which he was naturally most inclined 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 promptitude, but they were not to my taste; for my early passions, though violent in the extreme, were concentrated, 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 temperament * The colour of our whole life is generally such as the three or four first years in which we are our own masters make it.-Cowper. 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 irregularities 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, still more, from that strange pride in his own 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 mysterious 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 circumstances of the most unnecessary display, into a connexion of some continuance, the object of it not only becoming domesticated with him in lodgings at Brompton, but accompanying him afterwards, disguised 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 a delight was that of boxing, or sparring. This taste it was that, at a very early period, brought him acquainted with the distinguished professor of that art, Mr Jackson, for whom he continued through life to entertain the sincerest regard,—c -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 visitors,—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 I refer to my old friend and corporeal pastor and master, John Jackson, Esq., Professor of Pugilism, who I trust still retains the strength and symmetry of his model of a form, together with his good-humour and athletic, as well as mental, accomplishments."-Note on Don Juan Canto II. 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 were the early pursuits and associates of the author of Childe Harold, and, combined with what we know of the 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 XXVI, TO MR JACKSON. "N. A. Notts., September 18, 1803. 66 DEAR JACK, "I wish you would inform me what has been done by Jekyll, at No. 40, Sloane-square, concerning the pony I returned as unsound. "I have also to request you will call on Louch at Brompton, and inquire 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 pre tended 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 affair into my lawyer's hands. Five and twenty guineas is a sound price for a pony, and by -9 if it costs me five hundred pounds, I will make an example of Mr Jekyll, and that immediately, unless the cash is returned. "Believe me, dear Jack, &c." LETTER XXVII. TO MR JACKSON. "N. A. Notts., October 4, 1808. "You will make as good a bargain as possible with this Master Jekyll, if he is not a gentleman. If he is a gentleman, inform me, for I shall take very different steps. If he is not, you must get what you can of the money, for I have too much business on hand 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 you 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 fortunate 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, etc. LETTER XXVIII. TO MR JACKSON. "N. A. Notts. December 12, 1808. 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." The dress alluded to here was, no doubt, wanted Newstead, and of which there are some further for a private play, which he, at this time, got up at particulars in the annexed letter to Mr Becher. LETTER XXIX. TO MR BECHER. "Newstead Abbey, Notts., Sept. 14th, 1808. 66 MY DEAR BECHER, "I am much obliged to you for your inquiries, 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. 66 Believe me, &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 last occupant, Lord Grey de Ruthyn, 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 owncomfortably habitable. In one of his letters to Mrs Byron, published by Mr Dallas, he thus explains his views and intentions on this subject. TO THE HONOURABLE* MRS BYRON. "Newstead Abbey, Notts., October 7th, 1808. 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 Rousseau. 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 uncomfortable to both parties. You can hardly object to my rendering my mansion habitable, notwithstanding 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 Thus addressed always by Lord Byron, but without any right to the distinction. sufficient income. So you see my improvements are not entirely selfish. As I have a friend here, we will go to the Infirmary 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 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, "BYRON." The idea, entertained by Mrs Byron, of a resemblance between her son and Rousseau was founded chiefly, we may suppose, on those habits of solitariness, in which he had even already shown a disposition to follow that self-contemplative philosopher, and which, manifesting themselves thus early, gained strength as he advanced in life. In one of his Journals, to which I frequently have occasion to refer,* he thus, in questioning the justice of this comparison between himself and Rousseau, gives,—as usual, vividly,-some touches of his own disposition and habitudes: "My mother, before I was twenty, would have it that I was like Rousseau, and Madame de Staël used to say so too in 1813, and the Edinburgh Review 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:† he was a philosopher; I am none: he published his first work at forty; I mine at eighteen: his first essay brought him universal applause; mine the contrary: 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 bad 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;' I 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 down Mr Purling, and put his knee-pan out (with the gloves on), in Angelo's and Jackson's rooms, in 1806, 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 character, were so very different, that I am at a loss to conceive how such a comparison could have arisen, *The Journal, entitled by himself, " Detached Thoughts." Few philosophers, however, have been so indulgent to the pride of birth as Rousseau.-"S'il est un orgueil pardonnable (he says), après celui qui se tire du mérite personnel, c'est celui qui se tire de la naissance."-Confess. as it has done three several times, and all in rather a remarkable manner. I forgot to say that he was also short-sighted, 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 darkly lighted, that none of the company (composed of young and very brighteyed 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." after the preceding one, he explains further his plans In another letter to his mother, dated some weeks both with respect to Newstead and his projected travels: 66 LETTER XXXI. TO MRS BYRON. "Newstead Abbey, November 2d, 1808. 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 bedroom, and the rooms over as sleeping-rooms. They will be soon completed; at least, I hope so. "I wish you would inquire 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 ambassadors, 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 particulars. "After all, you must own my project is not a bad If I do not travel now, I never shall, and all men should one day or other. I have at present no connexions to keep me at home; no wife, or unprovided sisters, brothers, &c. I shall take care of you, and when I return I may possibly become a politician. 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 give 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, &c." one. 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 malady, that he, more than once, with his bare Old Murray, the servant, whom he mentions in a prehand, wiped away the slaver from the dog's lips ceding extract, as the only faithful follower now remainduring the paroxysms. In a letter to his friend, Mring to him, had long been in the service of the former Hodgson, he thus announces this event: "Boat- lord, and was regarded by the young poet with a fondswain is dead!-he expired in a state of madness on ness of affection which it has seldom been the lot of age the 18th, after suffering much, yet retaining all the and dependence to inspire. "I have more than once," gentleness of his nature to the last, never attempting says a gentleman who was, at this time, a constant to do the least injury to any one near him. I have visitor at Newstead, "seen Lord Byron at the dinnernow lost every thing except old Murray." table fill out a tumbler of madeira, and hand it over his shoulder to Joe Murray, who stood behind his chair, saying, with a cordiality that brightened his whole countenance, Here, my old fellow.'" 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 ornament 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 Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices. Is but a just tribute to the Memory of Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, 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, fast To mark a friend's remains these stones arise; I never knew but one, and here he lies. † Melancholy, indeed, seems to have been gaining upon his mind at this period. In another letter to Mr Hodgson he says,-" You know laughing is the sign of a rational animal-so says Dr Smollet. I think so too, but unluckily my spirits don't always keep pace with my opinions." The Reverend Francis Hodgson, author of a spirited translation of Juvenal, and of other works of distinguished merit. To this gentleman, who was long in correspondence with Lord Byron, I am indebted for some interesting letters of his noble friend, which shall be given in the course of the following pages. + 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 Fare Bounce! " In speaking of the members of Rousseau's domestic establishment, Hume says, " She (Thérèse) governs him as absolutely as a nurse does a child. In her absence, his dog has 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, A friend mair faithful ne'er came nigh him, 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 his friend's Miscellany, this line runs thus : I knew but one unchanged-and here he lies. The unconcern with which he could sometimes allude to the defect in his foot is manifest from another 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 calculated to make schoolboys rebellious, Lord Byron answers"If my songs have produced the glorious effects you mention, I shall be a complete Tyrtæus;-though I am sorry to say I resemble that interesting 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 friend I have just mentioned," in a large and mixed company, when a vulgar person asked him aloud—' Pray, my lord, swered Lord Byron, with the utmost mildness— how is that foot of yours?'- Thank you, sir,' an'much the same as usual.'" of his lordship, is from another of his letters to Mr The following extract, relating to a reverend friend Hodgson, this year: "A few 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 polite during the short time I was with them induced me to this application. Now, mark what follows,-as somebody sublimely saith. On this day arrives an epistle signed ***, containing, not the smallest reference to tuition, or intuition, but a petition 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 lay acquaintance, 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." His time at Newstead 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 keeping it some time before his eyes in a printed form,* he *We are told that Wieland used to have his works printed thus for the purpose of correction, and said that had proofs taken off from his manuscript by his nished to his spleen by the neglect with which he conformer publisher at Newark. It is somewhat remark-ceived himself to have been treated by his guardian, able, that, excited as he was by the attack of the Lord Carlisle. The relations between this nobleman Reviewers, and possessing, at all times, such rapid and his ward had, at no time, been of such a nature powers of composition, he should have allowed so as to afford opportunities for the cultivation of much long an interval to elapse between the aggression and friendliness on either side; and to the temper and the revenge. But the importance of his next move influence of Mrs Byron must mainly be attributed the in literature seems to have been fully appreciated by blame of widening, if not of producing, this estrangehim. He saw that his chances of future eminence ment between them. The coldness with which Lord now depended upon the effort he was about to make, Carlisle had received the dedication of the young and therefore deliberately collected all his energies poet's first volume was, as we have seen from one of for the spring. Among the preparatives by which he the letters of the latter, felt by him most deeply. He, disciplined his talent to the task was a deep study of however, allowed himself to be so far governed by the writings of Pope; and I have no doubt that prudential considerations as not only to stifle this from this period may be dated the enthusiastic admi- displeasure, but even to introduce into his Satire, as ration which he ever after cherished for this great originally intended for the press, the following compoet,-an admiration which at last extinguished in pliment to his guardian :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 which he had fallen at this time, from disappointed affections 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 much 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 consideration, shift from praise to censure, and sometimes, almost as rapidly, from censure to praise, shows how fanciful and transient were the impressions 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. His coming of age in 1809 was celebrated at Newstead by such festivities as his narrow means and society could furnish. Besides the ritual roasting 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 Mr 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 that 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 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 moneylenders 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 work to press, new food was unluckily furhe found great advantage in it. The practice is, it appears, not unusual in Germany. : On one alone Apollo deigns 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 the interval between the inditing of this couplet and the delivery of the manuscript to the press, Lord Byron, with the natural hope that his guardian would, of himself, make an offer to introduce him to the House of Lords on his first taking his seat, wrote to remind his lordship that he should be of age at the commencement of the session. Instead, however, of the courtesy which he had thus, not unreasonably, counted upon, a mere formal reply, acquainting him with the technical mode of proceeding on such occasions, was all that, it appears, in return to this application, he received. It is not wonderful therefore that, disposed as he had been, by preceding circumstances, to suspect his noble guardian of no very friendly inclinations towards him, such backwardness, at a moment when the countenance of so should have roused in his sensitive mind a strong near a connexion might have been of service to him, feeling of resentment.-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 whieh, gratifying as they must have been to his revenge at the moment, he, not long after, with the placability so inherent in his generous nature, repented.* During the progress of his Poem through the press, he increased its length by more than a hundred lines; and made several alterations, one or two of which may be mentioned, as illustrative of that prompt susceptibility of new impressions and influences which rendered both his judgment and feelings so variable. In the Satire, as it originally stood, was the following couplet : Though printers condescend the press to soil say, * 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; And partly that I did his sire some wrong. Childe Harold, Canto III. |