dispatching 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 1st fruits. Mrs B. on no account is to see or touch them. Adieu." LETTER VII. TO MR PICOT. "Little Hampton, August 26th, 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 8 miles distant from the former. You will probably not be displeased with this letter, when it informs you that I am £30,000 richer than I was at our parting, having just received intelligence from my lawyer that a cause has been gained at Lancaster assizes, which will be worth that sum by the time I come of age. Mrs B. is doubtless acquainted of this acquisition, though not apprized of its exact value, of which she had better be ignorant; for her behaviour on any sudden piece of favourable intelligence is, if possible, more ridiculous than her detestable conduct on the most trifling circumstance of an unpleasant nature. 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 dispatched 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. I hope you have kept them from that Upas tree, that antidote to the arts, Mrs B. 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," which were printed in his first unpublished volume, * In a suit undertaken for the recovery of the Rochdale property. + This precious pencilling is still, of course, preserved. 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. (to-day) is our ball-night, and I meditate going into "Harrowgate is still extremely full; Wednesday 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. in trying to amuse me as much as possible, but it is He is very good 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,† 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. 66 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 compa-nion and intimate of Lord Byron, and who is now eminent talents deserve, I have been favoured with pursuing his profession with the success which his The verses * To a beautiful Quaker," in his first volume, were written at Harrowgate. † A horse of Lord Byron's:-the other horse that he had with him at this time was called Sultan. 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* 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. The private theatricals alluded to in the letters from Harrowgate were, both in prospect and per formance, a source of infinite delight to him, and tool 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 lette which was received by his companion during thei absence from home : "Tell Lord Byron that, if any accident should re tard 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 per sist 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, a both to his school displays and to the share which he took in these representations at Southwell: 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 succes 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 afterlife, so singularly vibrated. "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 compo"We were at the Crown Inn at Low Harrowgate.sition. The other performers were young ladies and 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 satirize 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."† The favourite dog, on which Lord Byron afterwards wrote the well-known epitaph. + Lord Byron and Dr Pigot continued to be correspondents for some time, but, after their parting this autumn, they never met again. 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 "début," 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 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, Doctor Glennie, of his great proficiency in scriptural knowledge while yet but a child under his care. 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 goodhumoured 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 pre- To Mr Becher, as I have said, the first copy of served, he would most willingly withdraw it. In the his little work was presented; and this gentleman, mean time, it was concerted between this gentleman in looking over its pages, among many things to comand Lord Byron that the latter should, on the morn- mend and admire, as well as some almost too boyish ing of rehearsal, deliver the verses in a tone as in- to criticise, found one poem in which, as it appeared nocent and as free from all point as possible,-re- to him, the imagination of the young bard had inserving his mimicry, in which the whole sting of the dulged itself in a luxuriousness of colouring beyond pleasantry lay, for the evening of representation. what even youth could excuse. Immediately, as the The desired effect was produced;-all the personages most gentle mode of conveying his opinion, he sat of the green-room were satisfied, and even wondered down and addressed to Lord Byron some expostulahow a suspicion of waggery could have attached tory verses on the subject, to which an answer, also itself to so well-bred a production. Their wonder, in verse, was returned by the noble poet as promptly, however, was of a different nature a night or two-with, at the same time, a note, in plain prose, to 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 personæ 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.* 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 Camoëns 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, * Of this edition, which was in quarto, and consisted but of a few sheets, there are but two, or, at the utmost, three copies in existence. 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 dispatched 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 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 VIII. TO THE EARL OF CLARE. "Southwell, Notts., February 6th, 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 injus tice, 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 apologizing 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, 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 Esculapius 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, "Your truly attached and sincere "BYRON." Considering himself bound to replace the copies of his work which he had withdrawn, as well as to rescue the general character of the volume from the stigma this one offender might bring upon it, he set instantly about preparing a second edition for the press, and, during the ensuing six weeks, continued busily occupied with his task. In the beginning of January we find him forwarding a copy to his friend, Dr Pigot, in Edinburgh : LETTER IX. TO MR PIGOT. * Southwell, Jan. 13, 1807, "I ought to begin with sundry apologies, for my own negligence, but the variety of my avocations in prose and verse must plead my excuse. With this epistle you will receive a volume of all my Juvenilia published since your departure: it is of considerably greater size than the copy in your possession, which I beg you will destroy, as the present is much more complete. That unlucky poem to my poor Mary has been the cause of some animadversion from ladies in years. I have not printed it in this collection, in consequence of my being pronounced a most profligate sinner, in short, a young Moore,' by • His valet, Frank. your Of this Mary, who is not to be confounded either with the heiress of Annesley, or Mary of Aberdeen, all I can record is, that she was of an humble, if not equivocal, station in life-that she had long, light golden hair, of which he used to show a lock, as well as her picture, among his friends, and that the verses in his Hours of Idleness," entitled To Mary, on receiving her Picture, were ad dressed to her. friend. I believe in general the been favourably received, and surely the age author will preclude severe criticism. The ad of my life from sixteen to nineteen, and the tion into which I have been thrown in Lond given a voluptuous tint to my ideas; but the o which called forth my muse could hardly ad other colouring. This volume is vastly corr miraculously chaste. Apropos, talking of love "If you can find leisure to answer this fa unconnected nonsense, you need not dou) gratification will accrue from your reply t ever, &c." To his schoolfellow Mr William Bankes, v met casually with a copy of the work, and wr a letter, conveying his opinion of it, he retur following answer: "Your critique is valuable for many reas the first place, it is the only one in which has borne so slight a part; in the next, I am with insipid compliments. I have a better op your judgment and ability than your feelings. my most sincere thanks for your kind decisi less welcome, because totally unexpected. regard to a more exact estimate, I need not you how few of the best poems in our langua stand the test of minute or verbal criticism: therefore hardly be expected the effusions of (and most of these pieces have been produce early period) can derive much merit either fr subject or composition. Many of them were under great depression of spirits, and during indisposition;-hence the gloomy turn of the We coincide in opinion that the poésies éro are the most exceptionable; they were, ho grateful to the deities on whose altars they offered-more I seek not. "The portrait of Pomposus was drawn at Ha after a long sitting; this accounts for the resemb or rather the caricatura. He is your friend, he was mine-for both our sakes I shall be silent head. The collegiate rhymes are not personal of the notes may appear so, but could not be om I have little doubt they will be deservedly abuse just punishment for my unfilial treatment excellent an Alma Mater. I sent you no copy, k should be placed in the situation of Gil Blas an Archbishop of Grenada: though running some zard from the experiment, I wished your verdi be unbiassed. Had my Libellus' been presi previous to your letter, it would have appea species of bribe to purchase compliment. I fe hesitation in saying, I was more anxious to hear critique, however severe, than the praises of million. On the same day I was honoured with encomiums of Mackenzie, the celebrated auth the Man of Feeling.' Whether his approbati yours elated me most, I cannot decide. “You will receive my Jucenilia,—at least al over published. I have a large volume in manuscript, which may in part appear hereafter; at present I have neither time nor inclination to prepare it for the press. In the spring I shall return to Trinity, to dismantle my rooms, and bid you a final adieu. The Cam will not be much increased by my tears on the occasion. Your further remarks, however caustic or bitter to a palate vitiated with the sweets of adulation, will be of service. Johnson has shown us that no poetry is perfect; but to correct mine would be an Herculean labour. In fact I never looked beyond the moment of composition, and published merely at the request of my friends. Notwithstanding so much has been said concerning the Genus irritabile vatum,' we shall never quarrel on the subject-poetic fame is by no means the 'acme' of my wishes. Adieu. "Yours ever, BYRON." This letter was followed by another, on the same subject, to Mr Bankes, of which, unluckily, only the annexed fragment remains: "For my own part, I have suffered severely in the decease of my two greatest friends, the only beings I ever loved (females excepted); I am therefore a solitary animal, miserable enough, and so perfectly a citizen of the world, that whether I pass my days in Great Britain or Kamschatka, is to me a matter of perfect indifference. I cannot evince greater respect for your alteration than by immediately adopting itthis shall be done in the next edition. I am sorry your remarks are not more frequent, as I am certain they would be equally beneficial. Since my last, I have received two critical opinions from Edinburgh, both too flattering for me to detail. One is from Lord Woodhouselee, at the head of the Scotch literati, and a most voluminous writer (his last work is a life of Lord Kaimes); the other from Mackenzie, who sent his decision a second time, more at length. I am not personally acquainted with either of these gentlemen, nor ever requested their sentiments on the subject their praise is voluntary, and transmitted through the medium of a friend, at whose house they read the productions. "Contrary to my former intention, I am now preparing a volume for the public at large: my amatory pieces will be exchanged, and others substituted in their place. The whole will be considerably enlarged, and appear the latter end of May. This is a hazardous experiment: but want of better employment, the encouragement I have met with, and my own vanity, induce me to stand the test, though not without sundry palpitations. The book will circulate fast enough in this country, from mere curiosity, what I prin this, would have been presented before, had I not been apprehensive that Miss Falkner's indisposition might render such trifles unwelcome. There are some errors of the printer which I have not had time to correct in the collection: you have it thus, with all its imperfections on its head,' a heavy weight, Juvenilia,' as they can claim no great degree of when joined with the faults of its author. Such approbation, I may venture to hope, will also escape the severity of uncalled for, though perhaps not undeserved, criticism. sions, and are now published merely for the perusal "They were written on many and various occaof a friendly circle. Believe me, sir, if they afford the slightest amusement to yourself and the rest of my social readers, I shall have gathered all the bays I ever wish to adorn the head of yours, very truly, "BYRON. "P. S.-I hope Miss F. is in a state of recovery." Notwithstanding this unambitious declaration of the young author, he had that within which would not suffer him to rest so easily; and the fame he had now reaped within a limited circle made him but more eager to try his chance on a wider field. The hundred copies of which this edition consisted were hardly out of his hands, when with fresh activity he went to press again,—and his first published volume, "The Hours of Idleness," made its appearance. Some new pieces which he had written in the interim were added, and no less than twenty of those contained in the former volume omitted; for what reason does not very clearly appear, as they are, most of them, equal, if not superior, to those retained. In one of the pieces, reprinted in the "Hours of Idleness," there are some alterations and additions, which, as far as they may be supposed to spring from the known feelings of the poet respecting birth, are curious. This poem, which is entitled "Epitaph on a Friend," appears, from the lines I am about to give, to have been, in its original state, intended to commemorate the death of the same lowly-born youth, to whom some affectionate verses, cited in a preceding page, were addressed : : Though low thy lot, since in a cottage born, But, in the altered form of the epitaph, not only this passage, but every other containing an allusion to the low rank of his young companion, is omitted; while, in the added parts, the introduction of such language as What, though thy sire lament his failing line, seems calculated to give an idea of the youth's station in life, wholly different from that which the whole tenor of the original epitaph warrants. The other poem, too, which I have mentioned, addressed evidently to the same boy, and speaking in similar terms, of the "lowness" of his "lot," is, in the "Hours of Idleness," altogether omitted. That he grew more conscious of his high station, as he approached to manhood, is not improbable, and this |