of excitement after reading the article, inquired anxiously whether he had just received a challenge, - not knowing how else to account for the fierce defiance of his looks. It would, indeed, be difficult for sculptor or painter to imagine a subject of more fearful beauty than the fine countenance 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 moment. The very reaction of his spirit against aggression 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 himself considerably better." His chief care, indeed, afterwards, was amiably devoted, as we have seen it was, in like manner, before the criticism, to allaying, 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 helplessly alive to this attack upon his fame, and felt it far more than, after the first burst of indignation, he did himself. But the state of his mind upon the subject will be best understood from the following letter. LETTER 25. TO MR. BECHER. 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. R'. 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 Dr. Johnson, that many men, women, and chil dren, could write such poetry as Ossian's.' 2 I "I am thin and in exercise. During the spring or summer I trust we shall meet. 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. “Dorant's, March 28. 1808. "I have lately received a copy of the new edition from Ridge, and it is high time for me 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 public 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 1 ""Tis a quality very observable in human nature, that any opposition which does not entirely discourage and intimidate us, has rather a contrary effect, and inspires us with a more than ordinary grandeur and magnanimity. In collecting our force to overcome the opposition, we invigorate the soul, and give it an elevation with which otherwise it would never have been acquainted." HUME, Treatise of Human Nature. 2 ["Dr. Johnson's reply to the friend who asked him "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 own3, even the pleasures to if any man living could have written such a book is well known: Yes, Sir; many men, many women, and many children.' I inquired of him myself if this story was authentic, and he said it was."- MRS. Piozzi, Johnsoniana, p. 84.] 3 "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. 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 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 most unnecessary display, into a connection of some continuance, the object of it not only becoming domesticated with him in lodgings at Brompton, but accompanied 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 "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 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 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, 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. 1 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 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. 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 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 affair into my lawyer's hands. Five and twenty guineas is a sound price for a pony, and by, 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 27. TO MR. JACKSON. "N. A., Notts. October 4. 1808. If "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. 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," &c. LETTER 28. TO MR. JACKSON. 'My dear Jack, "N. A., Notts. December 12. 1808. I "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. 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 for a private play, which he, at this time, got up at Newstead, and of which there are some further particulars 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 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. "Believe me," &c. letters I have just given indicate, that he, for It was in the autumn of this year, as the the first time, took up his residence at Newstead Abbey. Having received the place in a most ruinous condition from the Ruthyn, he proceeded immediately to repair hands of its late occupant, Lord Grey de render them-more with a view to his and fit up some of the apartments, so as to mother's accommodation than his owncomfortably habitable. In one of his letters to Mrs. Byron, published by Mr. Dallas, he this subject. thus explains his views and intentions on LETTER 30. TO THE HONOURABLE MRS. BYRON. "Newstead Abbey, Notts. October 7. 1808. "Dear Madam, S "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 Thus addressed always by Lord Byron, but without any right to the distinction. to be drawn up the moment I am twenty- 66 "BYRON." 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 ex The idea, entertained by Mrs. Byron, of cellent swimmer, a decent, though not at all a resemblance between her son and Rousseau -- - as usual, 'My 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 Review has something of the sort in its critique on the fourth Canto of Childe Harold, 2 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 : The Journal entitled by himself "Detached Thoughts." 2 ["There are two writers in modern literature, whose extraordinary power over the minds of men, it may be truly said, has existed less in their works than in themselves-Rousseau and Lord Byron. They have other points of resemblance. Both are distinguished by the most ardent and vivid delineations of intense conception, and by an intense sensibility of passion, rather than affection. Both too, by this double power, have held a dominion over the sympathy of their readers, far beyond the range of those ordinary feelings which are usually excited by the mere efforts of genius. The impression of this interest still accompanies the perusal of their writings: but there is another interest of more lasting, and far stronger power, which the one has possessed, and the other now possesses -which lies in the continual embodying of the individual character, it might almost be said, of the very person of the writer. When we speak or think of Rousseau or Byron, we are not conscious of speaking or thinking of an author. We have a vague but impassioned remembrance a dashing, rider, (having staved in a rib at 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, I 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, as it has done three several times, and all in rather a remarkable manner. 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 bright-eyed people, some of them in the same box,) could make out a of men of surpassing genius, eloquence, and power, — of prodigious capacity both of misery and happiness. We feel as if we had transiently met such beings in real life, or had known them in the dim and dark communion of a dream. Each of their works presents, in succession, a fresh idea of themselves; and, while the productions of other great men stand out from them, like something they have created, theirs, on the contrary, are images, pictures, busts of their living selves, clothed, no doubt, at different times in different drapery, and prominent from a different back-ground, but uniformly impressed with the same form, and mien, and lineaments, and not to be mistaken for the representations of any other of the children of men."-WILSON, 1818.] 3 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. 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. "Dear Mother, "Newstead Abbey, November 2. 1808. my 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 than you self, and I shall establish you in it before I sail for India, which I expect to do in March, if nothing particularly obstructive occurs. am now fitting up the green drawing-room; the red for a bed-room, and the rooms over as sleeping-rooms. They will be soon completed; at least I hope so. I "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✶✶ [Hanson] I have heard nothing-when I do, you shall have the particulars, "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 unprovided ! This gentleman, who took orders in the year 1814, is the author of a spirited translation of Juvenal, and of other works of distinguished merit. He was long in correspondence with Lord Byron, and to him I am indebted for some interesting letters of his noble friend, which will 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, rare Bounce!" In speaking of the members of Rousseau's domestic establishment, Hume says, " She (Thérèse) governs him 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 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!-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 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, 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 dog2, at the expense as absolutely as a nurse does a child. In her absence, "Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him, A friend mair faithful ne'er came nigh him, |