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T >> Thomas Moore >> Life of Lord Byron, Vol. I. (of VI.)




Believe me yours, &c.

"BYRON."


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


LETTER 3.

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 epistle. You will perceive from my
first, that no idea of Mrs. B.'s arrival had 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 highways. 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!--Now to encounter my _Hydra_.

Yours ever."


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 deliver to Ridge, to be printed _separate_ from my other
compositions, as you will perceive them to be improper 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 _trouble_ 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
immediately, 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
_rhyme_, you will probably conceive my muse to be _vastly prolific_;
her 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;--believe me, there is
nothing at this moment could give me greater delight than your
letter."


LETTER 6.

TO MR. PIGOT.

"London, August 18. 1806.


"I am just on the point of setting off for Worthing, and write merely
to request you will send that _idle scoundrel Charles_ with my horses
immediately; 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 supplied him with money for his journey. On _no_
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 immediately
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, &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 proceed 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 new
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 was 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 probably not be
displeased with this letter, when it informs you that I am
30,000_l._ richer than I was at our parting, having just received
intelligence from my lawyer that a cause has been gained at Lancaster
assizes,[49] 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 despatched 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 appear 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 presides. 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 of his poems for the press. The
idea of printing them first occurred to him in the parlour of that
cottage which, during his visits to Southwell, had become 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,"[50] which
were printed in his first unpublished 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;--though, for the present, 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 manuscripts was
Ridge, the bookseller, at Newark; and while the work was printing, the
young author continued 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, 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 _most_ of mine. He certainly acts it inimitably. Lord B. is now
_poetising_, and, since he has been here, has written some very pretty
verses.[51] 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 pleasant rides about here, which I have
taken in company with Bo'swain, who, with Brighton,[52] 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 comedians _elect_, believe me to be," &c. &c.


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


"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 _per hour_--so much for
_inspiration_! Adieu!"


By the gentleman, who was thus early the companion 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 myself 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-horses, and a beautifully formed, very
ferocious, bull-mastiff, called Nelson, to meet us there.
Boatswain[53] 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
annoyance, 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
effected 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 stable-boys ran in
alarm to find Frank, who taking one of his Lord's Wogdon's pistols,
always kept loaded 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 was naturally shy, _very_
shy, which people who did not know him mistook for pride. While at
Harrowgate 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 carriage for him, another
time, to a ball at the Granby. 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 university, 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 of 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 that there was not a single spark of malice in
his composition."[54]

The private theatricals alluded to in the letters from Harrowgate
were, both in prospect and performance, 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 letter which was received by his companion
during their absence from home:--

"Tell Lord Byron that, if any accident should retard 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 Woodville,'--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 satisfaction, both
to his school displays and to the share which he took in these
representations at Southwell:--

"When I was a youth, I was reckoned a good actor. 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
prologue for our volunteer play was also of my composition. The other
performers were young ladies and gentlemen of the neighbourhood, and
the whole went off with great effect upon our good-natured audience."

It may, perhaps, not be altogether trifling to observe, that, in thus
personating with such success two heroes so different, the young poet
displayed both that 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, between
which his own character, in after-life, so singularly 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 whose
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," was 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'll 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 displaying his powers of mimicry, consisted of
good-humoured portraits of all the persons concerned in the
representation. Some intimation of this design having got among the
actors, an alarm was felt instantly 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 epilogue at rehearsal,
they did not, of themselves, pronounce 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 gentleman 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,--reserving his mimicry, in which the whole sting of the
pleasantry lay, for the evening of representation. The desired effect
was produced;--all the personages of the green-room were satisfied,
and even wondered how a suspicion of waggery could have attached
itself to so well-bred a production. Their wonder, however, was of a
different nature a night or two after, when, on hearing the audience
convulsed 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 personae 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 Mr. Becher
the first copy of the work was presented.[55] The influence which this
gentleman had, by his love of poetry, his sociability and good sense,
acquired 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 conduct 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, had he more frequently been lucky enough to fall into hands
that "knew the stops" of the instrument, 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 day, it was but natural that
he should settle with most pleasure on those works from which the
feelings of his age and temperament 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 concerned,) how much more worthy models, both in style and
thought, he might find among the established names of English
literature. Instead of wasting his time on the ephemeral productions
of his contemporaries, he should devote himself, his adviser said, to
the pages of Milton and of Shakspeare, and, above all, seek to elevate
his fancy and taste by the contemplation 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 circumstance which corroborates the account given by
his early master, Dr. Glennie, of his great proficiency in scriptural
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 commend 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 indulged 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 expostulatory 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 that he felt
fully the justice of his reverend friend's censure, and that, rather
than allow the poem in question 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 of that which he retained in his own possession, and
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 capable, 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 acknowledging the noble candour and conscientiousness of the
writer:--


LETTER 8.

TO THE EARL OF CLARE.

"Southwell, Notts, February 6. 1807.


"My dearest Clare,

"Were I 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
instead 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 purpose of explaining (as far as possible without
involving some _old friends_ of mine in the business) the cause of my
behaviour to him during my last residence at Harrow (nearly two years
ago), which you will recollect was rather '_en cavalier_.' Since that
period, I have discovered he was treated with injustice both by those
who misrepresented his conduct, and by me in consequence of their
suggestions. I 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 not 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, _even unintentionally_,
injured 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,[56] who cheated me,--rather a
disagreeable event;--performing in private theatricals;--publishing 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 many _fair damsels_, and the drugs I swallow
are of such variety in their composition, that between Venus and
Aesculapius I am harassed to death. However, I have still leisure to
devote some hours to the recollections of past, 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,

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