LIFE OF LORD BYRON. Commodore Anson, in the dangerous enterprise they encountered in thrice circumnavigating the globe. The son of this gallant veteran by no means distinguished himself by the virtues of his ancestors. The only instance that history has recorded, that in any degree renders his name conspicuous, reflects the deepest dishonour, though partially redeemed by his future atonementthe seduction of the Marchioness of Carmarthen, who, after being divorced from her injured husband, he married. On her decease, he married Miss Gordon, a Scotch lady of noble family, of which marriage the subject of this memoir was the fruit, who succeeded to the title and estates of his uncle, William, the fifth Lord Byron, in default of issue, in the year 1798, when he was not more than ten years of age. Until this event he had resided principally on his mother's estate at Raine, in the district of Gairwik, uear Aberdeen. The wild and beautiful scenery of that neighbourhood contributed greatly in imbuing his mind with a taste for the picturesque, and that romantic tinge that was ever visible in his after-life. It was the noble and loity mountains of the western highlands with their snow-clad summits, that, as he himself acknowledges,first awakened in his mind a sense of the sublime and beautiful, which ever afterward so prominently distinguished his charac ter. It was roving among these wild and romantic glens, habituating his youthful mind to the contemplation of the wonders of nature, and listening to the traditionary songs of the superstitious highlanders, that formed the natural enthusiasm of his mind, and tempered it to the reception of every poetical beauty, Although he enjoyed the liberty of ranging, without control, the hills and valleys of the surrounding country, it appears it was allowed for the strengthening of his bodily frame, which was naturally weak and delicate. His early education seems to have claimed from his maternal, and only existing parent, the closest degree of attention. He acknowledged she endeavoured to inculcate the strongest veneration for religion into his youthful mind, the loss of which he ever lamented. On his taking possession of his title, he was removed to Harrow, for the purpose of education. Here he distinguished himself more by various eccen 147 tricities, than any surprising profi- "There are two things that strike me at this moment, which I did at Harrow: I fought Lord Calthorpe for writing D-d Atheist !' under my name; and prevented the school-room from being burnt during a rebellion, by pointing out to the boys the names of their fathers and grandfathers on the walls. "I was not a slow, though an idle, boy, and I believe no one could be more attached to Harrow than I have always been, and with reason: a part of the time passed there was the happiest of my life; and my preceptor (the Rev. Dr. Joseph Drury) was the best and worthiest friend I ever had, whose warning I have remembered but too late when I have erred." How closely do these unaffected observations mark the character of the man who gives them as his own: the regretful looking on the time of his childhood as the days of innocence and peace, when his heart was unknown to, and untainted by, the follies of the world-the admiration of that excellence which he duly appreciated, and yet had not fortitude to point at the contrition for past error, that shewed he swerved not from the ways of virtue from want of principle, or relish to admire their beauty, but steadiness to pursue them. He became a member of the university at an early age, we believe he was not more than sixteen; here he did not scem inspired with that love of excellence that would have prompted him to obtain academical honours. Yet still, though his collegiate career was not brilliant, or untainted from those blemishes young men in that situation are too apt to indulge in, yet it was far from being contemptible. His great fault and leading principle, even at this early age, seemed to be a contempt of the world and its opinions; he therefore attracted more notice by the singularities of his disposition, among which was the circumstance of his keeping a bear in the vicinity of his room, than the excellence of his attainments. On his leaving the university about the year 1807, for Newstead Abbey, he published a volume of poems, entitled, "Hours of Idleness," which, although not abounding with any extraordinary merit, or strongly indicative of his fu K2 7 ture excellence, has excited more sensation in the world than any juvenile productions that have gone before or after it. Its celebrity may be, in a great degree, attributed to the rough treatment it experienced from the different reviewers. The Edinburgh Review, in particular, immortalized itself by a most unmanly, illiberal, and palpable want of judgment. The volume was presented to the world as the first efforts of a young man, with the greatest diffidence, and not the slightest appearance of conceit or arrogance. Every line within it displayed a gem of talent, which only required to be fostered to arrive at maturity. How was he treated in return? With that smiling encouragement and genial nourishing that should always guide the timid steps of an adventurer's first essay towards the temple of fame? No: the severest (and yet most illfounded) sarcasm, abuse, and ridicule, were employed to deter him, but, fortunately for the world he was destined to delight, without effect. The worst passages in his unobtruding volume were selected as the best, prefaced by the following liberal and encouraging anathema, in allusion to the poet's apology of youth, for the crudeness of many of his essays: "So far from hearing with any degree of surprise that these very poor verses were written by a youth from his leaving school to his leaving college, inclusive; we really believe this to be the most common of all occurrences, that it happens in the life of nine men in ten who are educated in England, and that the tenth man writes better verses than Lord Byron." Matchless criticism! what strength of judgment, and what foresight it displays! found of critics; they made another hit, which will stamp both the writer and the book for a depth of knowledge, and acuteness of discernment, no others ever arrived at. "Beside our desire to counsel him that he do forthwith abandon poetry, and turn his talents and opportunities to better account!" Had Lord Byron followed this excel. lent advice, how much the world would have been indebted to the Edinburgh Review. The world are really more indebted to those critics than it would willingly own. If it had not been for this provocation, it is more than probable, that the spirit of Byron would have slumbered for ever in the recesses of his own bosom, instead of delighting and astonishing the world. They acted on him as a powerful stimulus, and called into life every dormant faculty of his soul, and produced an effusion, entitled, "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," which displayed most brilliant wit, poignant satire, and powers so infinitely superior to any of his previous attempts, as completely astonished his revilers, and excited more highly the expectations of the warmest of his friends. If it had not been for the persecutions of Sir Peter Thomas Lucy, this country would, most likely, never have been possessed of one of its brightest ornaments-Shakspeare. And to the petty circumstance of the ignorance and stupidity of a periodical scribbler, we are, in all probability, indebted for the efforts of Byron's gigantic mind. Respecting these poems, we quote his own words, as reported by his biographer : HIS EARLY POEMS. It may be a question of surprise, "When I first saw the review of why did these high and mighty Go-Hours of Idleness,' I was furiousliaths of Edinburgh take notice of the in such a rage as I have never been in weak and youthful David? Why did they stoop to crush an insect, inflict a blow upon that it could annihilate with a look? Oh! it was only in consideration of the author's rank they ridiculed him, and abused his work. What force of reasoning! what a perfect keeping with those independent principles the Edinburgh Review claims as its leading object, which never give preference to any one in the republic of letters, however high may be the object, and exalted its station. Not contented with this tirade, but ambitious of being handed down, we suppose, to posterity, as the most pro since. I dined that day with Scroope Davies, and drank three bottles of claret to drown it, but it only boiled the more. The critique was a master-piece of low wit-a tissue of scurrilous abuse. I remember there was a great deal of vulgar trash in it, that was meant for humour, about people being thankful for what they could get,' looking a gift horse in the mouth,' and other such stable expressions. The severity of the Quarterly killed poor Keats, and neglect Kirk White. But I was made of different stuff-of tougher materials. So far from bullying me, or deterring me from writing, I was bent upon fal thousand a-year for a yacht; dining for a few pauls when alone---spending Lundreds when he has friends. "Nil fuit unquam sic impar sibi.” We now come to the most painful part of our office,---to speak of his death, which happened on the 19th of April last. It appears from the best authority we can obtain, that on the 9th of the month, Lord Byron, who had been living very low, had exposed himself in a violent rain, the consequence of which was a severe cold, and he was immediately confined to I am often with him from the time he gets up, till two or three o'clock in the morning, and, after sitting up so late, he must require rest; but he produces proofs, next morning, that he has not been idle. Sometimes, when I call, I find him at his desk; but he either talks as he writes, or lays down his pen to play at billiards, till it is time to take his airing. He seems to be able to resume the thread of his subject at all times, and to weave it of an equal texture. Such talent is that of an improvisatore. The fairness, too, of his manuscripts (I do not speak of the hand-wri- his bed. The low state to which he had ting) astonishes no less than the perfection of every thing he writes. He hardly ever alters a word for whole pages, and he never corrects a line in subsequent editions. I do not believe that he has ever read his works since he examined the proof-sheets, and yet he remembers every word of them, and every thing else worth remembering that he has ever known." "I never met with any man who shines so much in conversation. He shines the more, perhaps, for not seeking to shine. His ideas flow without effort, without his having occasion to think. As in his letters, he is not nice about expressions or words; there are no concealments in him, no injunctions to secrecy; he tells every thing that he has thought or done without the least reserve, and as if he wished the whole world to know it; and does not throw the slightest gloss over his errors. Brief himself, he is impatient of diffuseness in others, hates long stories, and seldom repeats his own. If he has heard a story you are telling, he will say, you told me that,' and, with good humour, sometimes finish it for you himself." "He hates arguments, and never argues for victory. He gives every one an opportunity of sharing in the conversation, and has the art of turning it to subjects that may bring out the person with whom he converses. He never shews the author, prides himself most on being a man of the world and of fashion, and his anecdotes of life and living characters are inexhaustible. In spirits, as in every thing else, he is in extremes." "Miserly in trifles-about to lavish his whole fortune on the Greeks; to day-diminishing his stud---to-morrow taking a large family under his roof, or giving a Unfortunately for Mr. Medwin's remarks, as to the correctness of Lord Byron's manuscript, the only fac-sinile he gives of it is a letter from his Lordship to Mr. Hobhouse, which, though only about a dozen lines contains two long interlineations. been reduced by his abstinence, and, probably, by some of the remaining effects of his previous illness, made him unwilling, at any rate he refused, to submit to be bled. It is to be lamented that no one was near his Lordship who had sufficient influence over his mind, or who was himself sufficiently aware of the necessity of the case. The noble invalid, being at that time suffering under a mental delusion, caused by the height of the fever, which being unchecked, terminated fatally, as our readers are well aware of. We have obtained the following interesting particulars respecting the situation of his affairs with Greece, from Col. Stanhope's letters on Greece. "Capt. York, of the Alacrity, a tengun-brig, came on shore a few days ago, to demand an equivalent for an Ionian boat that had been taken in the act of going out of the gulf of Lepanto, with provisions, arms, &c. The Greek fleet, at that time, blockaded the harbour with five brigs, and the Turks had fourteen vessels of war in the Gulf. The Captain maintained, that the British Government recognised no blockade that was not efficient, and that that efficiency depended on the numerical superiority of cannon. On this principle, without going at all into the merits of the case, he demanded restitution of the property. Prince Mavrocordato remonstrated, and offered to submit the case to the decision of the British Government; but the Captain peremptorily demanded restitution of the property in four hours. He received 200 dollars as an equivalent. Lord Byron conducted the business in behalf of the Captain. In the evening he conversed with me on the subject. I said the affair was conducted in a bullying manner, and not according to the He sold it for 3001. and refused to give the sailors their jackets; and offered once to bet Hay that he would live on 607. a-year.' principles of equity and the law of nations. "Lord Byron was seized on the 15th inst. with a severe fit. His Lordship was sitting in my room, and jesting with Parry, but his eyes and his brow occasionally discovered that he was agitated by strong feelings. On a sudden he complained of a weakness in one of his legs. He rose, but finding himself unable to walk, called for assistance. He then fell into a violent nervous convulsion, and was placed upon my bed. During this period his face was much distorted. In a few minutes he began to recover his senses; his speech returned, and he was soon well, though exhausted with the struggle. His Piedmontese surgeon and Dr. Millinger, both assured me that the fit, though of a dangerous character while it lasted, was not so in its consequences. During the fit his Lordship was as strong as a giant, and after it behaved with his usual firmness. I conceive that this fit was occasioned by over-excitement. The mind of Byron is like a volcano; it is full of fire, wealth, and combustibles; and when this matter comes to be strongly agitated, the explosion is dreadful. With respect to the causes that produced this excess of feeling, they are beyond my reach, except one great cause, which was the provoking conduct of the Suliots. Lord Byron had acted towards them with a degree of generosity that could not be exceeded; and then, when his plans were all formed for the attack of Lepanto, and his hopes were raised on the delivery of Western Greece from the inroads of the Turks, these ungrateful soldiers demanded, and extorted, and refused to march till all was settled to gratify their avarice. This was enough to agitate every heart warm in the cause of Greece." He died in a manner the best and most virtuous of us would desire, with the knowledge that his life was valuable in the most noble of human causes, and that his death would be universally deplored by a world, of whom he was the principal ornament. The last words of the unfortunate Nobleman corresponded closely with his character, and we cannot do better in closing this memoir, than in giving them as our own: "I wish it to be known, that my last thoughts were given to my wife, my child, and my sister." May 17th, 1824. The only fruit of his marriage was a daughter, who must be now in her ninth year, of whom he speaks in the following affectionate words. "What do you think of Ada?' said he, looking earnestly at his daughter's miniature, that hung by the side of his writ LIFE OF LORD BYRON. Drury-lane Theatre, I have no doubt that several actresses called on me; but as to Mrs. Mardyn, who was a beautiful woman, and might have been a dangerous visitress, I was scarcely acquainted (to speak)with her. I might even make a more serious charge against than employing spies to watch suspected amours. * *** I had been shut up in a dark street in London, writing (I think he said) The Siege of Corinth, and had refused myself to every one till it was finished. I was surprised one day by a doctor and a lawyer, almost foreing themselves at the same time into my room. I did not know till afterward the real object of their visit. I thought their questions singular, frivolous, and somewhat importunate, if not impertinent; but what should I have thought, if I had known that they were sent to provide proofs of my insanity? I have no doubt that my answers to these emissaries' interrogations were not very rational or consistent, for my imagination was heated by other things. But Dr. Bailey could not conscientiously make me out a certificate for Bedlam; and perhaps the lawyer gave a more favourable report to his employer." 155 the sake of doing justice to the memory of the dead. The wish to be reconciled with Lady Byron, seems, by the following passage, dearest to his heart. "I have just heard (said he) of Lady Noel's death. I am distressed for poor Lady Byron! She must be in great affliction, for she adored her mother! The world will think I am pleased at this event, but they are much mistaken. I never wished for accession of fortune; I have enough without the Wentworth property. I have written a letter of condolence to Lady Byron,you may suppose in the kindest terms, beginning, My dear Lady Byron.' If we are not reconciled, it is not my fault!”—“ I shall be delighted (I said) to see you restored to her and to your country; which, notwithstanding all you say and write against it, I am sure you like. Do you remember a sentiment in the Two Foscari?— "He who loves not his country, can love nothing." "I am becoming more weaned from it every day," said he, after a pause, “and have had enough to wean me from it!No! Lady Byron will not make it up with me now, lest the world should say that her mother only was to blame! Lady Noel certainly identifies herself very strongly in the quarrel, even by the account of her last injunctions; for she directs in her will that my portrait, shut up in a case by her orders, shall not be opened till her grand-daughter be of age, and then not given to her if Lady Byron should be alive. We must confess, that a degree of pain pervades us at our arrival at this stage of biography. As he himself admits he was originally to blame, there appears some foundation for the many vague and extraordinary reports that have been circulated as the reason of the separation that shortly afterward took place between him and his lady. It afforded his enemies the completest triumph---every one was ready to blame, and few to pity. Every report "I might have claimed all the fortune seemed to gain credit, by its promulgation. for my life if I had chosen to have done One, most insidiously spread abroad, was so; but have agreed to leave the division the alleged circumstance of his bringing to of it to Lord Dacre and Sir Francis Burhis house, and seating at the same table dett. The whole management of the affair with his lady, an actress, whom rumour is confided to them; and I shall not interhad made out as his mistress. Thus the fere or make any suggestion or objection, promulgators of falsehood, knowing well if they award Lady Byron the whole." it was not in their power to inflict a wound After his separation from Lady Byron, on the high and mighty spirit that they he left England for Waterloo, from whence endeavoured to crush, fearlessly, yet cow- he went to Brussels, and after that time ardly wounded an innocent object in her he was joined by his friends, Messrs. most vital part-her reputation. This Shelley and Hunt. His attachment to the lady, for her own honour, and that of his former of these distinguished individuals, Lordship, immediately denied the foul is faithfully displayed by the strange feelcharge, and challenged her accusers to ing he displayed, in performing the last bring forward the slightest evidence to sup- sad offices of friendship, as is related by port it. Their silence was her and his Captain Medwin. Lordship's best vindication. That some indiscretion did take place, we must in justice own, but the many foul charges that have been alleged against the unfortunate individual we could at once overturn, did we not remember that the feelings of the living must not be wounded for "18th August, 1822.-On the occasion of Shelley's melancholy fate I revisited Pisa, and on the day of my arrival learnt that Lord Byron was gone to the sea-shore, to assist in performing the last offices to his friend. We came to a spot marked by an old and withered trunk of a fir-tree; |