"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
_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 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 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.[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 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, 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:--