which, in his poem of "the Dream," he describes so one, but, by giving up the leadership to him, you happily as "crowned with a peculiar diadem." No may at once secure him." This Wildman accordone, he declared, could have told how much he felt—ingly did, and Byron took the command of the party. for his countenance was calm and his feelings restrained. "The next time I see you," said he, in parting with her, "I suppose you will be Mrs Chaworth," *- and her answer was, "I hope so." It was before this interview that he wrote, with a pencil, in a volume of Madame de Maintenon's letters belonging to her, the following verses, which have never, I believe, before been published Oh Memory, torture me no more, Regret and hope are both in vain; In the following year, 1805, Miss Chaworth was married to his successful rival, Mr John Musters; and a person who was present when the first intelligence of the event was communicated to him, thus describes the manner in which he received it." I was present when he first heard of the marriage. His mother said, ' Byron, I have some news for you.'-' Well, what is it? Take out your handkerchief first, for you will want it.'-' Nonsense!''Take out your handkerchief, I say.' He did so, to humour her. Miss Chaworth is married.' An expression, very peculiar, impossible to describe, passed over his pale face, and he hurried his handkerchief into his pocket, saying, with an affected air of coldness and nonchalance, 'Is that all? Why, I expected you would have been plunged in grief!'He made no reply, and soon began to talk about something else." 66 His pursuits at Harrow continued to be of the same truant description during the whole of his stay there; -"always," as he says himself, cricketing, re"belling,† rowing, and in all manner of mischiefs.' The "rebelling," of which he here speaks (though it never, I believe, proceeded to any act of violence), took place on the retirement of Dr Drury from his situation as head-master, when three candidates for the vacant chair presented themselves, Mark Drury, Evans, and Butler. On the first movement to which this contest gave rise in the school, young Wildman was at the head of the party for Mark Drury, while Byron at first held himself aloof from any. Anxious, however, to have him as an ally, one of the Drury faction said to Wildman-" Byron, I know, will not join, because he does n't choose to act second to any Now no more, the hours beguiling, Makes ye seem a Heaven to me. The lady's husband, for some time, took her family name. + Gibbon, in speaking of public schools, says "the mimic scene of a rebellion has displayed, in their true colours, the ministers and patriots of the rising generation." Such prognostics, however, are not always to be relied upon;the mild, peaceful Addison was, when at school, the successful leader of a barring-out. The violence with which he opposed the election of Doctor Butler on this occasion (chiefly from the warm affection which he had felt towards the last master) continued to embitter his relations with that gentleman during the remainder of his stay at Harrow, Unluckily their opportunities of collision were the more frequent from Byron being a resident in Dr Butler's house. One day the young rebel, in a fit of defiance, tore down all the gratings from the window in the hall; and when called upon by his host to say why he had committed this violence, answered, with stern coolness, "because they darkened the hall." On another occasion he explicitly, and so far manfully, avowed to this gentleman's face the pique he entertained against him. It has long been customary, at the end of a term, for the master to invite the upper boys to dine with him; and these invitations are generally considered as, like royal ones, a sort of command. Lord Byron, however, when asked, sent back a refusal, which rather surprising Doctor Butler, he, on the first opportunity that occurred, inquired of him, in the presence of the other boys, his motive for this step:-"Have you any other engagement ?”— "No, sir."—" But you must have some reason, Lord Byron."-" I have."—" What is it?"-" Why, Dr Butler," replied the young peer, with proud composure, if you should happen to come into my neighbourhood when I was staying at Newstead, I certainly should not ask you to dine with me, and therefore feel that I ought not to dine with you." 66 The general character which he bore among the masters at Harrow was that of an idle boy, who would never learn any thing; and, as far as regarded his tasks in school, this reputation was, by his own avowal, not ill founded. It is impossible, indeed, to look through the books which he had then in use, and which are scribbled over with clumsily interlined translations, without being struck with the narrow extent of his classical attainments. The most ordinary Greek words have their English signification scrawled under them,-showing too plainly that he was not sufficiently familiarized with their meaning to trust himself without this aid. Thus, in his Xenophon we find veot, young-ooμaoiv, bodiesapos Tois ayabois, good men, &c. &c.—and even in the volumes of Greek Plays, which he presented to the library on his departure, we observe, provided with its English representative in the among other instances, the common word XpucOS margin. But, notwithstanding his backwardness in the mere verbal scholarship, on which so large and precious a portion of life is wasted,* in all that general and miscellaneous knowledge, which is alone useful in the world, he was making rapid and even wonder It is deplorable to consider the loss which children make of their time at most schools, employing, or rather casting away, six or seven years in the learning of words only, and that very imperfectly."-Cowley, Essays. "Would not a Chinese, who took notice of our way of breeding, be apt to imagine that all our young gentlemen were designed to be teachers and professors of the dead languages of foreign countries, and not to be men of business in their own."-Locke on Education. ful progress. With a mind too inquisitive and excursive to be imprisoned within statutable limits, he flew to subjects that interested his already manly tastes, with a zest which it is in vain to expect that the mere pedantries of school could inspire; and the irregular, but ardent snatches of study which he caught in this way gave to a mind like his an impulse forwards, which left more disciplined and plodding competitors far behind. The list, indeed, which he has left on record of the works, in all departments of literature, which he thus hastily and greedily devoured before he was fifteen years of age, is such as almost to startle belief,-comprising, as it does, a range and variety of study, which might make much older "helluones librorum" hide their heads. Not to argue, however, from the powers and movements of a mind like Byron's, which might well be allowed to take a privileged direction of its own, there is little doubt, that to any youth of talent and ambition the plan of instruction pursued in the great schools and universities of England, wholly inadequate as it is to the intellectual wants of the age,* presents an alternative of evils not a little embarrassing. Difficult, nay utterly impossible, as he will find it, to combine a competent acquisition of useful knowledge with that round of antiquated studies which a pursuit of scholastic honours requires, he must either, by devoting the whole of his attention and ambition to the latter object, remain ignorant on most of those subjects upon which mind grapples with mind in life, or by adopting, as Lord Byron and other distinguished persons have done, the contrary system, consent to pass for a dunce or idler in the schools, in order to afford himself even a chance of attaining eminence in the world. From the memorandums scribbled by the young poet in his school-books, we might almost fancy that, even at so early an age, he had a sort of vague presentiment that every thing relating to him would one day be an object of curiosity and interest. The date of his entrance at Harrow,† the names of the boys who were, at that time, monitors, the list of his fellow-pupils under Doctor Drury,+-all are noted down with a fond minuteness, as if to form points of retrospect in his after-life; and that he sometimes referred to them with this feeling will appear from one touching instance. On the first leaf of his "Scriptores Græci" we find, in his schoolboy hand, the following memorial:-" George Gordon Byron, Wednesday, June 26th, A. D. 1805, 3 quarters of an hour past 3 o'clock in the afternoon, 3d school,-Calvert, monitor, Tom Wildman on my left hand, and Long on my right. Harrow on the Hill." On the same leaf, written five years after, appears this comment: "Eheu fugaces, Posthume! Posthume! Labuntur anni. * "A finished scholar may emerge from the head of Westminster or Eton in total ignorance of the business and conversation of English gentlemen in the latter end of the eighteenth century."-Gibbon. Byron, Harrow on the Hill, Middlesex, Alumnus Scholæ Lyonensis primus in anno Domini 1801, Ellison Duce." "Monitors, 1801.-Ellison, Royston, Hunxman, Rashleigh, Rokeby, Leigh." "Drury's Pupils, 1804.-Byron, Drury, Sinclair, Hoare, Bolder, Annesley, Calvert, Strong, Acland, Gordon, Drum. mond." "B. January 9th, 1809.-Of the four persons whose names are here mentioned, one is dead, another in a distant climate, all separated, and not five years have elapsed since they sat together in school, and none are yet twenty-one years of age." 66 The vacation of 1804* he passed with his mother at Southwell, to which place she had removed from Nottingham, in the summer of this year, having taken the house on the Green, called Burgage Manor. There is a Southwell play-bill extant, dated August 8th, 1804, in which the play is announced as bespoke by Mrs and Lord Byron." The gentleman, from whom the house where they resided was rented, possesses a library of some extent, which the young poet, he says, ransacked with much eagerness on his first coming to Southwell; and one of the books that most particularly engaged and interested him was, as may be easily believed, the life of Lord Herbert of Cherbury. In the month of October, 1805, he was removed to Trinity College, Cambridge, and his feelings on the change from his beloved Ida to this new scene of life are thus described by himself : "When I first went up to college, it was a new and a heavy-hearted scene for me: firstly, I so much disliked leaving Harrow, that though it was time (I being seventeen), it broke my very rest for the last quarter with counting the days that remained. I always hated Harrow till the last year and half, but then I liked it. Secondly, I wished to go to Oxford, and not to Cambridge. Thirdly, I was so completely alone in this new world, that it half broke my spirits. My companions were not unsocial, but the contrary— lively, hospitable, of rank and fortune, and gay far beyond my gaiety. I mingled with, and dined and supped, &c., with them; but, I know not how, it was one of the deadliest and heaviest feelings of my life to feel that I was no longer a boy." But though, for a time, he may have felt this sort of estrangement at Cambridge, to remain long without attaching himself was not in his nature; and the friendship which he now formed with a youth named Eddleston, who was two years younger than himself, even exceeded in warmth and romance all his schoolboy attachments. This boy, whose musical talents first drew them together, was, at the commencement of their acquaintance, one of the choir at Cambridge, though he afterwards, it appears, entered into a mercantile line of life; and this disparity in their stations was by no means without its charm for Byron, as gratifying at once both his pride and good-nature, and founding the tie between them on the mutually dependent relations of protection on the one side, and gratitude and devotion on the other ;-the only relations, according to Lord Bacon, in which the little friendship that still remains in the world is to be found. It was upon a gift presented to him by Eddleston that he wrote those verses entitled "The *During one of the Harrow vacations he passed some time in the house of the Abbé de Rouffigny, in Took's court, for the purpose of studying the French language; but he was, according to the Abbé's account, very little given to study, and spent most of his time in boxing, fencing, &c., to the no small disturbance of the reverend teacher and his establishment. † Between superior and inferior, "whose fortunes (as he expresses it) comprehend the one the other." Cornelian," which were printed in his first, unpublished volume, and of which the following is a stanza : Some, who can sneer at friendship's ties, For I am sure the giver loved me. and he, himself, was as much affected by a similar calamity. But I did not pay him back in puns and epigrams, for I valued Matthews too much, myself, to do so; and, even if I had not, I should have respected his griefs. 6 66 Long's father wrote to to write his son's epitaph. I promised,-but I had not the heart to complete it. He was such a good, amiable being as rarely remains long in this world; with talent and accomplishments, too, to make him the more regretted. Yet, although a cheerful companion, he had strange melancholy thoughts sometimes. I remember once that we were going to his uncle's, I think,-I went to accompany him to the door merely, in some Upper or Lower Grosvenor or Brook-street, I forget which, but it was in a street leading out of some square,— he told me that, the night before, he had taken up a pistol-not knowing or examining whether it was loaded or no-and had snapped it at his head, leaving it to chance whether it might, or might not, be charged.' The letter, too, which he wrote me, on leaving college to join the Guards, was as melancholy in its tenour as it could well be on such an occasion. But he showed nothing of this in his deportment, being mild and gentle;-and yet with much turn for the ludicrous in his disposition. We were both much attached to Harrow, and sometimes made excursions there together from London, to Another friendship, of a less unequal kind, which had been begun at Harrow, and which he continued to cultivate during his first year at Cambridge, is thus interestingly dwelt upon in one of his journals::"How strange are my thoughts!-The reading of the song of Milton, 'Sabrina fair,' has brought back upon me--I know not how or why-the happiest, perhaps, days of my life (always excepting, here and there, a Harrow holiday in the two latter summers of my stay there) when living at Cambridge with Edward Noel Long, afterwards of the Guards,-who, after having served honourably in the expedition to Copenhagen (of which two or three thousand scoundrels yet survive in plight and pay) was drowned early in 1809, on his passage to Lisbon with his regiment in the St George transport, which was run foul of, in the night, by another transport. We were rival swimmers-fond of riding-reading-and of conviviality. We had been at Harrow together; but-there, at least-his was a less boisterous spirit than mine. I was always cricketing-rebelling-revive our schoolboy recollections." fighting-rowing (from row, not boat-rowing, a different practice), and in all manner of mischiefs; while he was more sedate and polished. At Cambridge-both of Trinity-my spirit rather softened, or his roughened, for we became very great friends. The description of Sabrina's seat reminds me of our rival feats in diving. Though Cam's is not a very 'translucent wave,' it was fourteen feet deep, where we used to dive for, and pick up-having thrown them in on purpose-plates, eggs, and even shillings. I remember, in particular, there was the stump of a tree (at least ten or twelve feet deep) in the bed of the river, in a spot where we bathed most commonly, round which I used to cling, and wonder how the devil I came there.' "Our evenings we passed in music (he was musical, and played on more than one instrument, flute and violoncello), in which I was audience; and I think that our chief beverage was soda-water. In the day we rode, bathed, and lounged, reading occasionally. I remember our buying, with vast alacrity, Moore's new quarto (in 1806), and reading it together in the evenings. "We only passed the summer together;-Long had gone into the Guards during the year I passed in Notts., away from college. His friendship, and a violent, though pure love and passion-which held me at the same period-were the then romance of the most romantic period of my life. These affecting remembrances are contained in a Journal, which he kept during his residence at Ravenna, in 1821, and they are rendered still more touching and remarkable by the circumstances under which they were noted down. Domesticated in a foreign land, and even connected with foreign conspirators, whose arms, at the moment he was writing, were in his house, he could yet thus wholly disengage himself from the scene around him, and, borne away by the current of memory into other times, live over the lost friendships of his boyhood again. An English gentleman (Mr Wathen) who called upon him, at one of his residences in Italy, having happened to mention in conversation that he had been acquainted with Long, the noble poet, from that moment, treated him with the most marked kindness, and talked with him of Long and of his amiable qualities, till (as this gentleman says) the tears could not be concealed in his eyes. In the summer of this year (1806) he, as usual, joined his mother at Southwell,-among the small, but select society of which place he had, during his visits, formed some intimacies and friendships, the memory of which is still cherished there fondly and proudly. With the exception, indeed, of the brief and bewildering interval which he passed, as we have seen, in the company of Miss Chaworth, it was at Southwell alone that an opportunity was ever afforded him of profiting by the bland influence of female society, or of seeing what woman is in the true sphere of her virtues, home. The amiable and intelligent family of the Pigots received him within their circle, as one of themselves; and in the Rev. John Becher* * A gentleman, who has since honourably distinguished most important object, the amelioration of the condition himself by his philanthropic plans and suggestions for that of the poor. the youthful poet found not only an acute and judicious critic, but a sincere friend. There were also one or two other families-as the Leacrofts, the Housons-among whom his talents and vivacity made him always welcome; and the proud shyness with which, through the whole of his minority, he kept aloof from all intercourse with the neighbouring gentlemen, seems to have been entirely familiarized away by the small, cheerful society of Southwell. One of the most intimate and valued of his friends, at this period, has given me the following account of her first acquaintance with him :-" The first time I was introduced to him was at a party at his mother's, when he was so shy that she was forced to send for him three times before she could persuade him to come into the drawing-room, to play with the young people at a round game. He was then a fat bashful boy, with his hair combed straight over his forehead, and extremely like a miniature picture that his mother had painted by M. de Chambruland. The next morning Mrs Byron brought him to call at our house, when he still continued shy and formal in his manner. The conversation turned upon Cheltenham, where we had been staying, the amusements there, the plays, &c.; and I mentioned that I had seen the character of Gabriel Lackbrain very well performed. His mother getting up to go, he accompanied her, making a formal bow, and I, in allusion to the play, said, Good bye, Gaby.' His countenance lighted up, his handsome mouth displayed a broad grin, all his shyness vanished, never to return, and, upon his mother's saying Come, Byron, are you ready?'no, she might go by herself, he would stay and talk a little longer; and, from that moment, he used to come in and go out at all hours, as it pleased him, and in our house considered himself perfectly at home." To this lady was addressed the earliest letter from his pen that has fallen into my hands. He corresponded with many of his Harrow friends-with Lord Clare, Lord Powerscourt, Mr William Peel, Mr William Bankes, and others. But it was then little foreseen what general interest would one day attach to these schoolboy letters, and accordingly, as I have already had occasion to lament, there are but few of them now in existence. The letter, of which I have spoken, to his Southwell friend, though containing nothing remarkable, is perhaps for that very reason worth insertion, as serving to show, on comparing it with most of its successors, how rapidly his mind acquired confidence in its powers. There is, indeed, one charm for the eye of curiosity in his juvenile manuscripts which they necessarily want in their printed form; and that is, the strong evidence of an irregular education which they exhibit,-the unformed and childish handwriting, and, now and then, even defective spelling of him who, in a very few years after, was to start up one of the giants of English literature. have taken. It is impossible I should have any fault to find with them. The sight of the drawings gives me great pleasure for a double reason,-in the first place, they will ornament my books; in the next, they convince me that you have not entirely forgot me. I am, however, sorry you do not return sooner, you have already been gone an age. I perhaps may have taken my departure for London before you come back; but, however, I will hope not. Do not overlook my watch-ribbon and purse, as I wish to carry them with me. Your note was given me by Harry, at the play, whither I attended Miss L and Doctor S- ; and now I have set down to answer it before I go to bed. If I am at Southwell when you return, and I sincerely hope you will soon, for I very much regret your absence,-I shall be happy to hear you sing my favourite, The Maid of Lodi.' My mother, together with myself, desires to be affectionately remembered to Mrs Pigot, and believe me, my dear Miss I remain your affectionate friend, We shall often have occasion to remark the fidelity to early habits and tastes by which Lord Byron, though in other respects so versatile, was distinguished. In the juvenile letter, just cited, there are two characteristics of this kind which he preserved unaltered during the remainder of his life ;-namely, his punctuality in immediately answering letters, and his love of the simplest ballad music. Among the chief favourites to which this latter taste led him at this time were the songs of the Duenna, which he had the good taste to delight in; and some of his Harrow contemporaries still remember the joyousness with which, when dining with his friends at the memorable mother Barnard's, he used to roar out, "This bottle 's the sun of our table." His visit to Southwell this summer was interrupted, about the beginning of August, by one of those explosions of temper on the part of Mrs Byron, to which, from his. earliest childhood, he had been but too well accustomed, and in producing which his own rebel spirit was not always, it may be supposed, entirely blameless. In all his portraits of himself, so dark is the pencil which he employs, that the following account of his own temper, from one of his journals, must be taken with a due portion of that allowance for exaggeration, which his style of self-portraiture, overshadowing even the shade," requires. 66 "In all other respects" (he says, after mentioning his infant passion for Mary Duff), "I differed not at all from other children, being neither tall nor short, dull nor witty, of my age, but rather lively-except in my sullen moods, and then I was always a Devil. They once (in one of my silent rages) wrenched a knife from me, which I had snatched from table at Mrs B.'s dinner (I always dined earlier), and applied to my breast;-but this was three or four years after, just before the late Lord B.'s decease. 'My ostensible temper has certainly improved in later years; but I shudder, and must, to my latest hour, regret the consequence of it and my passions combined. One event--but no matter-there are others not much better to think of also-and to them I give the preference But I hate dwelling upon incidents. My temper is now under management-rarely loud, and, when loud, never deadly. It is when silent, and I feel my forehead and my cheek paling, that I cannot control it; and then..... but unless there is a woman (and not any or every woman) in the way, I have sunk into tolerable apathy." Between a temper, at all resembling this, and the loud hurricane bursts of Mrs Byron, the collision, it may be supposed, was not a little formidable; and the age at which the young poet was now arrived, when, as most parents feel,-the impatience of youth begins to champ the bit, would but render the occasions for such shocks more frequent. It is told, as a curious proof of their opinion of each other's violence, that, after parting one evening in a tempest of this kind, they were known each to go privately that night to the apothecary's, inquiring anxiously whether the other had been to purchase poison, and cautioning the vender of drugs not to attend to such an application, if made. It was but rarely, however, that the young lord allowed himself to be provoked into more than a passive share in these scenes. To the boisterousness of his mother he would oppose a civil and, no doubt, provoking silence,-bowing to her but the more profoundly the higher her voice rose in the scale. In general, however, when he perceived that a storm was at hand, in flight lay his only safe resource. To this summary expedient he was driven, at the period of which we are speaking; but not till after a scene had taken place between him and Mrs Byron, in which the violence of her temper had proceeded to lengths, that, however outrageous they may be deemed, were not, it appears, unusual with her. The poet, Young, in describing a temper of this sort, says The cups and saucers, in a whirlwind sent, But poker and tongs were, it seems, the missiles | | LETTER II. TO MR PIGOT. *16, Piccadilly, August 9th, 1806. "MY DEAR PIGOT, Many thanks for your amusing narrative of the last proceedings of my amiable Alecto, who now begins to feel the effects of her folly. I have just received a penitential epistle, to which, apprehensive of pursuit, I have dispatched a moderate answer, with a kind of promise to return in a fortnight; | this, however (entre nous), I never mean to fulfil. Her soft warblings must have delighted her auditors, her higher notes being particularly musical, and on a calm moonlight evening would be heard to great advantage. Had I been present as a spectator, nothing would have pleased me more; but to have come forward as one of the dramatis personæ,'St Dominic defend me from such a scene! Seriously, your mother has laid me under great obligations, and you, with the rest of your family, merit my warmest thanks for your kind connivance at my escape from 'Mrs Byron furiosa.' "Oh! for the pen of Ariosto to rehearse, in epic, the scolding of that momentous eve, or rather, let me invoke the shade of Danté to inspire me, for none but the author of the Inferno' could properly preside over such an attempt. But, perhaps, where the pen might fail, the pencil would succeed. What a group ! -Mrs B. the principal figure; you cramming your ears with cotton, as the only antidote to total deafness; Mrs in vain endeavouring to mitigate the wrath of the lioness robbed of her whelp; and last, though not least, Elizabeth and Wousky,-wonderful to relate!—both deprived of their parts of speech, and bringing up the rear in mute astonishment. How did S. B. receive the intelligence? How many puns did he utter on so facetious an event? In your next inform me on this point, and what excuse you made to A. You are probably by this time tired of deciphering this hieroglyphical letter;-like Tony Lumpkin, you will pronounce mine to be a d―d up and down hand. All South.well, without doubt, is involved in amazement. Apropos, how does my blue-eyed nun, the fair **? is she robed in sable garb of woe?' "Here I remain at least a weak or ten days; previous to my departure you shall receive my address, but what it will be I have not determined. My lodgings must be kept secret from Mrs B.; you may present my compliments to her, and say any attempt to pursue me will fail, as I have taken measures to retreat immediately to Portsmouth, on the first intimation of her removal from Southwell. You may add, I have now proceeded to a friend's house in the country, there to remain a fortnight. "I have now blotted (I must not say written) a complete double letter, and in return shall expect a monstrous budget. Without doubt, the dames of Southwell reprobate the pernicious example I have shown, and tremble lest their babes should disobey their mandates, and quit in dudgeon their mammas on any grievance. Adieu. When you begin your next, drop the lordship,' and put Byron' in its place. Believe me yours, &c. 6 “ BYRON.” |