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Life of ByronMoore
The influence of malignant
star,
” dined with the calumnious convict in “durance vile,
” and
subjected themselves to the contamination of the “dropping in of some of our
host’s literary acquaintance,
” laments—as a man must do, who has had the
misfortune of once in his life shaking hands, even by means of the finger-tips, with a
Cockney—the deep degradation of that day and dinner with a jail-bird. “Among
these,
” (the Cockney crew) he says, “I remember was
” We remember—for the loathsome will not be forgotten—how, when on
that fatal divorce, yet a mystery to the whole world, the soul of the poet was
“wrenched with a woeful agony,
” and all England, whom his glorious
genius had glorified, stood scowling aloof on his desolation, how some of those wretches turned
round to sting the feet from which they had been pitifully proud to lick the dust. Of all such,
not one darted forth a more poisonous fang than the infatuated person who, in stepped forth the assailant of his
living fame.
”
Think not that such disgustful re-
It will be
recollected,
” says that there existed among
the Whig party, at this period, a strong feeling of indignation at the late defection from
themselves and their principles, of the illustrious personage, who had been so long looked
up to as the friend and patron of both. Being myself, at the time, warmly,
” “perhaps intemperately, under the influence of this feeling, I
regarded the fate of On mentioning the circumstance, soon after, to
” Of that
visit to the caitiff, all the world knows the ultimate consequences—the cool with
respect to
” Nor could any body else, except for a minute or so, after, perhaps, coming out
of the Cave of seriously. There is so much of the quizzible in all he writes,
that I never can put on the proper pathetic face in reading
him.
and, though not the
who often passed by the college-gates destined one day to sing a far loftier song, and far
better to unfold
unnatural,) she passionately loved him too—so that at last, we see him,
with stealthy step, creeping at midnight to the chamber of death, and hear him groaning beside
her corpse.
Sometimes we have felt as if
His father was as proud as
The little that strong and turbulent,
” we listen to old women’s tales in
explanation of the growth of the phenomenon, and gather up the traditionary gossip that relates
even to the time when he who, perhaps, afterwards set the world on fire, was “muling
and puking in his nurse’s arms.
” Thus we go back with a strange deep
interest with
“From London,
if he kept the boy one night, he
would not do so another,
’ she consent-
“It should be observed, however, that
silent rages,
’ (as he himself described them,) seized the frock
with both his hands, and rent it from top to bottom, and stood in sullen stillness, setting
his censurer and her wrath at defiance.
“But, notwithstanding this, and other such unruly outbreaks, in which
he was but too much encouraged by the example of his mother, who frequently, it is said,
proceeded to the same extremities with her caps, gowns, &c., there was in his
disposition, as appears from the concurrent testimony of nurses, tutors, and all who were
employed about him, a mixture of affectionate sweetness and playfulness, by which It was
impossible not to be attached; and which rendered him then, as in his riper years, easily
manageable by those who loved and understood him sufficiently to be at once gentle and firm
enough for the task. The female attendant of whom we have spoken, as well as her sister,
”
Temper! knew you ever a child—a boy—or man, with a good temper? Very rarely—and
if sincere, reader, whoever thou art, allow that thine own is not among the number. You may
have forgotten—or may not choose to remember—but your mother and your nurse will to their
dyshining morning-face,
” like the
north-west moon? Why flung you your pest of a body down upon the carpet, rolling in
convulsions, even during a forenoon-visit of the minister coming to pray, till a double pull of
the bell-rope, breaking, perhaps, in the agitated hand of maternal love and anger, brought up
nurse, with a face almost as red as your own, to root you from the Kidderminster, and carry the
living squall in a whirlwind, up to the sky-roof story, to the danger of the very slates? We
pass over your foolish resistance when thrust into the chaise that first trundled you to
school, seven miles off—your unexpected and most unwelcome return upon your distressed
parents’ hands, with a letter depicting you as the plague—all the “disastrous
chances which your youth suffered,
” out of the pure spite with which you
interrupted them when trotting along on their own errands, or “waukened sleeping
dogs
”—your expulsion from college, almost immediately subsequent to that from
school—and the troubled term in which your temper gave rise to the most serious suspicions that
it would be vain for you to enter upon any profession, even that of an attorney; for which your
temper was too quarrelsome and litigious. We omit all allusion to those eras, and are willing
to take you—as you are now—the bane of civil society, and the tyrant in your own unhappy house,
over a wife afraid to lift her eyes from the ground, and children, prevented only by fear from
exhibiting a ferocity equal to that of their father—And you abuse the bad temper of
But we may go a little higher—or at once to the highest. Let us go to the Great
Living Poets. Who knows the temper of moods of his own
” or any
other rational man’s mind. We go no farther—and we can go no higher; but who, although he
the less loves, admires, and venerates those two spirits of good and great men not yet
made perfect, for failings, frailties, vices, sins—call them what you will, and fear not—cling
to the clay of which they are composed in common with all the rest of the children of mankind?
Why then do you who make pilgrimages to Abbotsford and to Rydal-Mount—as to the shrines of
Saints—shut your eyes to the bursts of their infernal and diabolical tempers—merely because
they have never fallen on your own obscure and insignificant pericraniums; and yet on repairing
to Newstead-Abbey, persist in moralizing over the unhappy temper and so forth of poor
“It was a school for both sexes. I learned little there
except to repeat by rote the first lesson of monosyllables, (‘
” God made man—let us
love him
’) by hearing it often repeated, without acquiring a letter. Whenever
proof was made of my progress at home, I repeated these words with the most rapid fluency;
but on turning over a new leaf, I continued to repeat them, so that the narrow boundary of
my first year’s accomplishments was detected, my ears boxed, (which they did not
deserve, seeing it was by ear only that I had acquired my letters,) and my intellects
consigned to a new preceptor. He was a very devout, clever little clergyman, named
East, I think.) Under him I made astonishing progress, and I
recollect to this day his mild manners and good-natured pains-taking. The moment I could
read, my grand passion was history, and why, I know not, but I was
particularly taken with the battle near the Lake Regillas in the Roman history, put into my
hands the first. Four years ago, when standing on the heights of Tusculum, and looking down
upon the little round lake that was once Regillas, and which dots the immense expanse
below, I remembered my young enthusiasm and my old instructor. Afterwards, I had a very
serious, saturnine, but kind young man, named fourth, when I was recalled to England, (where I had been hatched,)
by the demise of my uncle. I acquired this handwriting, which I can hardly read myself,
under the fair copies of
On examining the quarterly lists at “the Grammar School” of
Aberdeen, in which the names of the boys are set down according to the station each holds in
his class, it appears, that in April of the year 1794, the name of an alacrity
at sinking.
”
“He was, indeed, much more anxious to distinguish himself
among his schoolfellows by prowess in all sports and exercises, than by advancement in
learning. Though quick, when he could be persuaded to attend, or had any study that pleased
him, he was in general very low in the class, nor seemed ambitious of being promoted any
higher. It is the custom, it seems, in this seminary, to invert, now and then, the order of
the class, so as to make the highest and lowest boys change places,—with a view no doubt of
piquing the ambition of both. On these occasions, and only these,
” Now,
’
But we seek more anxiously for other dispositions in the boy a good hand at marbles, and could spin one farther than
most boys; excelling also at ‘Bases,’—a game which requires considerable
swiftness of foot.
” But of his class-fellows at the Grammar School, there are
many, of course, still alive, by whom he is well remembered; and the general impression that
they retain of him is,—that he was a lively, warm-hearted, and spirited boy, passionate and
resentful, but affectionate and companionable with his schoolfellows, to a remarkable degree
venturesome and fearless, and, as one of them significantly expressed it, “always more
ready to give a blow than to take one.
”
“Among many anecdotes illustrative of this spirit, it is
related that once, in returning home from school, he fell in with a boy who had on some
former occasion insulted him, but had then got off unpunished; little
” Trust Byron.’
During this period his mother and ho made occasionally visits among their
friends, passing some time at Feteresso, the seat of his god-father, frowning
glories
’ were not unnoticed by him.
“To the wildness and grandeur of the scenes, among which
his childhood was
” from them. As materials, indeed, for the poetic faculty, when developed, to work
upon, these impressions of the new and wonderful, retained from childhood, and retained
with all the vividness of recollection which belongs to genius, may form, it is true, the
purest and most precious part of that aliment with which the memory of the poet feeds his
imagination. But still it is the newly-awakened power within him that is the source of the
charm;—it is the force of fancy alone that, acting upon his recollection, impregnates, as
it were, all the past with poesy. In this respect, such impressions of natural scenery as
make the poet
than—to apply an illustration of
I date my love of mountainous countries. I can never forget the effect, a few
years afterwards in England, of the only thing I had long seen, even in miniature, of a
mountain, in the Malvern Hills. After I returned to Cheltenham, I used to walk there every
afternoon at sunset, with a sensation I cannot describe.
” nine years old,”
so it used to be, and so in our mind it will always be, in spite of all new editions) whom
whatever clime the sun’s broad circle warms.
”
“His love of solitary rambles, and his taste for
exploring in all directions, led him not unfrequently so far as to excite
“In the course of one of his summer excursions up
Dee-side, he had an opportunity of seeing still more of the wild beauties of the Highlands
than even the neighbourhood of their residence at Ballatrech afforded; having been taken by
his mother through the romantic passes that lead to Invercauld, and as far up as the small
waterfall, called the Linn of Dee. Here his love of adventure had nearly cost him his life.
As he was scrambling along a declivity that overhung the fall, some heather caught his lame
foot and he fell. Already he was rolling downward, when the attendant luckily caught hold
of him, and was but just in time to save him from being killed.
”
About this period too—when not yet quite eight years old—he fell in love.
According to his own account, that the feeling took entire possession of his thoughts; shewing,
says
“I have been thinking lately a good deal of
me—and contented
herself with telling it to all her acquaintance. Now, what could this be? I had never seen
her since her mother’s faux-pas at Aberdeen had been the cause of her removal to her
grandmother at Banff; we were both the merest children. I had and have been attached fifty
times since that period; yet I recollected all we said to each other, all our caresses, her
features, my restlessness, sleeplessness, my tormenting my mother’s maid to write for
me to her, which she at last did, to quiet me. Poor
“How the deuce did all this occur so early? Where could
it originate? I certainly had no sexual ideas for years afterwards; and yet my misery, my
love for that girl was so violent, that I sometimes doubt if I have ever been really
attached since. Be that as it may, hearing of her marriage several years after, was like a
thunder-stroke—it nearly choked me—to the horror of my mother, and the astonishment and
almost incredulity of every body. And it is a phenomenon in my existence, (for I was not
eight years old,) which has puzzled and will puzzle me to the latest hour of it; and
lately, I know not why, the
” recollection (not
the attachment) has recurred as forcibly as ever. I wonder if she can have the least
remembrance of it or me? I remember her pitying sister
Thus strangely strung were all the passions of “the wild and wondrous
child.
” Now—before—and ever after—his lame foot often troubled his spirit. What
signified it? Little or nothing. ’Twas no great deformity—and if it had been, most men
would have outgrown the remembrance of so small an evil. But he never did—most beautiful to see—a flower of glorious feature!
” And
his figure, too, shewed “a child of strength and state.
” But that one
imperfection made him often forget that he was in face, form, and spirit an in
the prodigality of Heaven,
” and over women to be irresistible, here he was liable to the ludicrous—vulnerable not only in the heel, but in the sole,
the toes, and the instep—on that one deformity the eyes of high-born beauty in her most melting
mood might fall, and seem to his distempered imagination to loath as it lingered—while the
vulgar prostitute, as she spied the defect, burst out—so it once happened—into fits of drunken
laughter—and when raised by his pitying hand that proffered the boon of charity, from the cold
stone steps where the wretch had flung herself down to houseless sleep, ran off howling her
hideous scorn in a storm of curses. defect in nature.
”
“The malformation of his foot was, even at this childish
age, a subject on which he shewed peculiar sensitiveness. I hare been told by a gentleman
of Glasgow, that the person who nursed his wife, and who still lives in his family, used
often to join the nurse of
” What
a pretty boy
’ On
hearing this allusion to his infirmity, the child’s eyes flashed with anger, and
striking at her with a little whip which he held in his hand, he exclaimed, impatiently,
‘Dinna speak of it!
’ Sometimes, however, as in after life, he could
talk indifferently, and even jestingly, of his lameness; and there being another little boy
in the neighbourhood, who had a similar defect in one of his feet,
Come and see the twa
laddies with the twa club feet going up the Broad Street.
’
One of the most striking passages a
lame brat.
” “As all,
” says that he had felt strongly through life was, in some shape or
other, reproduced in his poetry, it was not likely that an expression such as this should
fail of being recorded. Accordingly, we find, in the opening of his drama, ‘
”
It may be questioned, indeed, whether this whole drama was not indebted for its origin
to this secret recollection.BerthaArnold
Farther on in the volume, we meet with another anecdote, illustrative of the
mental agonies he was often doomed to suffer from the same cause. When in love with Do
you think I could care any thing for that
” This
speech, as he himself described it, was like a shot through his heart! Though late at night
when he heard it, he instantly darted out of the house, and, scarcely knowing whither he ran,
never stopped till he found himself at Newstead. Years after that trial, and after he had been
at Cambridge, we meet with another instance how, by that slight blemish, (as in his hours of
melancholy ha persuaded himself,) all the blessings that nature had showered upon him were
counterbalanced. His reverend friend, lame boy?that of a
” “Ah! my dear friend,
” said if this (laying his hand on his
forehead) places me above the rest of mankind, that (pointing to his foot) places me
far—far below them.
” “Nay, sometimes,
” continues it seemed as if his sensitiveness on this
point led him to fancy that he was the only person in the world afflicted with such an
infirmity.
” When that accomplished scholar and traveller, It is odd enough, too, that you should not
know me,
” said I thought Nature
” But what follows is sadder still. In Greece he spoke often of his mother to
had set such a mark upon me, that I could never be
forgot.I will tell you
” A few days after, when they
were bathing together in the Gulf of Lepanto, he referred to this promise, and, pointing to his
naked leg and foot, exclaimed, “why I feel thus towards her.Look there! it is to her false delicacy at my birth I
owe that deformity; and yet, as long as I can remember, she has never ceased to taunt and
reproach me with it. Even a few days before we parted, for the last time, on my leaving
England, she, in one of her fits of passion, uttered an imprecation upon me, praying that I
might prove as ill formed in mind as I am in body.
” “His look and manner
in relating this frightful circumstance can be conceived only by those,
” says
who have ever seen him in a similar state of
excitement.
”
But we return to his boyhood at Aberdeen. Among many instances of his quickness
and energy at the early age we have been speaking of, his nurse mentioned a little incident
that one night occurred, on her taking him to the theatre to see the “
Little CatPetBut I say it is the moon, sir.
”
“Though the chance of his succession to the title of his
ancestors was for some time altogether uncertain,—there being, so late as 1794, a grandson
of the
“By the death of the grandson of the old Lord at Corsica,
in 1794, the only claimant that had hitherto stood between little George and the immediate
succession to the Peerage, was removed; and the increased importance, which this event
conferred upon them, was felt, not only by
’ We shall have the pleasure, some time
or other, of reading your speeches in the House of Commons.
’—‘I hope
not,
’ was his answer; ‘if you read any speeches of mine, it will be
in the House of Lords.
“The title, of which he thus early anticipated the
enjoyment, devolved to him but too soon. Had he been left to struggle on for ten years
longer, as plain
” whether she perceived any difference in him since he had been made
a Lord, as he perceived none himself?
’—a quick and natural thought; but the
child little knew what a total and talismanic change had
On the death of his eccentric grand-uncle, “the little boy who lived
at Aberdeen
” had become
“From the early ago at which
half a Scot by birth,
and bred a whole one.
” We have already seen how warmly he preserved through
life his recollection of the mountain scenery in which he was brought up; and in the
passage of
then dreamt, clothed in their own
pall,
“He adds, in a note, ‘The brig of Don, near the
“auld town” of Aberdeen, with its one arch, and its black deep salmon stream,
is in my memory as yesterday. I still remember, though perhaps I may misquote the awful
proverb which made me pause to cross it, and yet lean over it with childish delight, being
an only son, at least by the mother’s side. The
ae son, and a mear’s
ae foal,
“To meet with an Aberdonian was at all times a delight to
him; and when the late
“Cordial, however, and deep as were the impressions which
he retained of Scotland, he would sometimes in this, as in all his other amiable feelings,
endeavour perversely to belie his own better nature; and, when under the excitement of
anger or ridicule, persuade not only others, but even himself, that the whole current of
his feelings ran directly otherwise. The abuses with which, in his anger against the
he had a little of the Scotch accent.
’—‘Good
God! I hope not!
’ exclaimed he; ‘I’m sure, I haven’t. I
would rather the whole d——d country were sunk in the sea. I, the Scotch
accent!
’
“To such sallies, however, whether in writing or
conversation, but little weight is to be allowed,—particularly in comparison with those
strong testimonies which he has left on record, of his fondness for his early home; and,
while on his side this feeling so indelibly existed, there is, on the part of the people of
Aberdeen, who consider him as almost their fellow-townsman, a correspondent warmth of
affection for his memory and name.
“The various houses where he resided in his youth, are
pointed out to the traveller. To have seen him but once, is a recollection boasted of with
pride; and
”
It was in the summer of 1798, that passions of his precocious childhood—on her maternal breast. But
’tis glory and delight sufficient to her—for one age—to have had one great Poet—whose feet have seldom strayed, and his spirit never, from her glens
and mountains.
One era of the boy
It makes me uncomfortable,
” said to see you sitting there in such pain as I know you must be
suffering.
”—“Never mind,
”
answered the heroic boy, “you shall see no signs of it in
” me.
“This gentleman, who speaks with the most affectionate
remembrance of his pupil, mentions several instances of the
Italian,
’ to the infinite delight,
as it may be supposed, of the little satirist in embryo, who burst into a loud triumphant
laugh at the success of the trap which he had thus laid for imposture.
“With that mindfulness towards all who had been about him
in his youth, which was so distinguishing a trait in his character, he, many years after,
when in the neighbourhood of Nottingham, sent a message, full of kindness, to his old
instructor, and bid the bearer of it tell him, that, beginning from a certain line in
”
About this time, according to his nurse,
The summer following, (1799,)
” to which the other answered, gloomily, “I know
it.
” While at Dulwich, his reading in history and poetry was far beyond the usual
standard of his age; and the Doctor does not doubt that he had more than once perused from
beginning to end a set of our poets from He was, too,
” the Doctor pointedly writes, “playful, good
tempered, and beloved by his companions.
” It was possibly during one of the
vacations of this year, that the boyish love for his cousin,
“My first dash into poetry,” he says, “was as
early as 1800. It was the ebullition of a passion for my first cousin,
“I do not recollect scarcely any thing equal to the
transparent beauty of my cousin, or to the sweetness of her temper,
“My passion had its usual effects upon I could not
sleep—I could not eat could not rest; and although I had to know that she loved me, it was
the texture of my life to think of the time which must elapse before we could meet
again—being usually about twelve hours of separation. But I was a fool then, and am not
much wiser now!
”
He had been nearly two years under the tuition of
Harrow, for the first year and a half, he hated; for he was of a shy
disposition then as ever; but the activity and energy of his nature soon conquered that
repugnance. During the other years of his stay there, from being “a most unpopular
boy,
” he rose at length to be a leader in all the sports, schemes, and mischief
of the school—at all times cricketing, rowing, and rebelling. 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 not ill
founded.
“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
wonderful 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
“My school friendships,
” he himself says, “were
with me passions;
” and it would appear that he generally began them by thrashing
their objects. “At Harrow, I fought my way very fairly. I think I lost but one battle
out of seven; and that was to
” “To a youth like
” says the prodigy of our school days,
’
‘Poor
’
’
“Notwithstanding these general habits of play and
idleness, which might seem to indicate a certain absence of reflection and feeling, there
were moments when the youthful poet would retire thought
During the Harrow vacation of the year 1803, Byron resided with his mother, in
lodgings at Nottingham—Newstead being at that time let to a soul made of
fire,
” and one of the “children of the sun.
” In his eighth year he
had loved
“To the family of
” they had taken a grudge to him on
account of
’ At length, one evening, he said gravely to
in going home last night I
saw a
’ which Scotch term being wholly
unintelligible to the young ladies, he explained that he had seen a ghost, and would not
therefore return to Newstead that evening. From this time he always slept at Annesly during
the remainder of his visit, which was interrupted only by a short excursion to Matlock and
Castleton, in which he had the happiness, of accompanying bogle,When I was fifteen years of age, it
happened that, in a cavern in Derbyshire, I had to cross in a boat (in which two people
only could lie down) a stream which flows under a rock, with the rock so close upon the
water as to admit the boat only to be pushed on by a ferryman, (a sort of
’she had discovered it
without. I recollect my sensations, but cannot describe them,—and it is as well. We
were a party,—a my one heart in two persons, not ill matched in years, (she is two years my
elder,) and—and—and—what has been the
result?
This passion sunk so deep into his mind as to give a colour to all his future
life. That unsuccessful loves are generally the most lasting, “is a truth, however
sad, which unluckily,
” says did not require this instance to confirm it.
” Neither this nor a
thousand other instances—begging exceptio probat regulam
antique oratory,
” will long call up to fancy the
“maiden and the youth,
” who once stood in it; while the image of the
“lover’s steed,
” though suggested by the unromantic race-ground of
Nottingham, will not the less conduce to the general effect of the scene, and share a portion
of that light which only genius could shed over it!
That is beautifully expressed, and the sentiment is true to nature. But the antique oratory.
”
“A maiden and a youth,
” are doubtless common objects—but have not such
common objects many millions of times been the themes—are they not the only themes, of all most
impassioned song? And why so eloquent on such an achievement as this—as if it were singular—and
to be accomplished only by the muse of a undying lustre
” over Love? As to the lover’s
“steed”—no more poetical animal going than a horse? Had his Lordship been about to
mount a mule, or take his departure on a donkey, it might have required all his genius to throw
an undying lustre over “that object” and “that event.” The reader might
have thought of the commonest objects and events,
” turn from
He appears already, at
this boyish age, to have been so far a
” proficient in gallantry, as to
know the use that may be made of the trophies of former triumphs in achieving new
ones; for he used to boast, with much pride, to fair favourite had
given him, and which probably may have been a present from that pretty cousin, of whom he
speaks with such warmth in one of the notices already quoted.
This is indeed a sad falling off from the fine sentiment of the preceding
paragraph; it is pitiably poor; like some of the worst bits of
In the month of October 1805, that I 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 them, 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 at Cambridge, as at Harrow, he soon formed the most passionate friendships—one with a mild
musical character, of the name of
“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, 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.
’
For the fourth time,too,he fell luckily in love—“a violent though pure
passion”—but he has not added the name of his fair favourite (so
Mr
In the summer of 1806, he, as usual, joined his mother at Southwell, (where the
deuce is Southwell?) where he had formed some intimacies and friendships, the memory of which
is still cherished there fondly and proudly. There, he profited by the “bland
influence of female society,
” by seeing “what woman is in the true
sphere of her virtue—home.
” The amiable and intelligent family of the
“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 bad taken place between him and
”
But poker and tongs were, it seems, the missiles which
Safe in No. 16, Piccadilly,
“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 penetential epistle, to
which, apprehensive of pursuit, I have dispatched a moderate answer, with a
“Oh for the pen of
” Wouskywonderful to relate!—both deprived of
their parts of speech, and bringing up the rear in mute astonishment.
This letter was written the 9th of August, on the 10th he thus writes to
“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 difficult
employment of perusing this second epistle. You will perceive from my first, that no idea
of
” 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 woebegone countenance. This gunpowder intimation of her arrival
(confound her activity!) breathes less of terror and dismay than you will probably imagine,
from the volcanic temperament of her ladyship, 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
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.
And on the 16th, he again writes to
“I cannot exactly say with
”
;’ however, the most important part of his laconic account
of his success applies to my present situation; for, though Veni, vidi,
vicitrouble 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 of the present campaign. To speak more
intelligibly,
that idle scoundrel,
” He had indeed for a mother the devil’s dam.
What must a young man—who had been four times in love—had licked half Harrow, and was then a
nobleman at Trinity College, Cam
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; to the exclusion of his everlasting
unsuccessful passion for pure but violent
passion
” at Cambridge. Verses sufficient for a small volume were rapidly poured
forth, and It may
perhaps,
” says 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
”
As soon as his volume of
After this period, his visits to Southwell were few and transient. There he seems to have been very happy. At first, he was remarkably shy; but that reserve wore off, as he became acquainted with the young people of the place; and he became a frequenter of the assemblies and dinner parties, and even felt mortified, if he heard of a rout to which he was not invited. His horror, however, at new faces, still continued; and at the approach of strangers, he would jump out of the window. The gentry of the neighbourhood ho avoided, chiefly, we should suppose, because he believed they must be stupid, and partly, from the consciousness of the inadequacy of his own means to his rank. In his hours of rising and retiring to rest, he was—like most other distinguished persons—always late; and this habit he had the wisdom never to alter, during the remainder of his life. The night, too, was at this period, as it continued to be, his favourite time for composition.
He was fond of music of a simple kind, such as, “Why,
” He was an
admirable diver; and a lady in Southwell, among other precious relics of him, possesses a
thimble which he borrowed of her one morning when on his way to bathe in the Greet, and which,
as was certified by her brother who accompanied him, he brought up three times successively
from the bottom of the river. How deep it was the deponent sayeth not. On one occasion he had
nearly shot a very beautiful young person, Then give it to
me,
” he cried eagerly, “for that’s just the thing I
want.
” The young lady refused; but it was not long before the bead disappeared. She
taxed him with the theft, and he owned it; but said she never should see her amulet again.
“Of his charity and kind-heartedness he left behind him
at Southwell—as indeed at every place, throughout life, where he resided any time—the most
cordial recollections. ‘
” He never,
’ says a person who knew him intimately
at this period, ‘met objects of distress, without affording them
succour.
’ Among many little traits of this nature which his friends delight to
tell, I select the following—less as a proof of his generosity, than the interest which the
simple incident itself, as connected with the name of Ah, dear
sir,
’ she exclaimed, ‘I cannot pay such a price—I did not think it would
cost half the money.
’ The woman was then, with a look of disappointment,
going away, when young
“Write and tell me,
” he says, in a letter written to how the inhabitants of your menagerie
” And in
another letter—“go
on, and if my publication goes off well—do the quadrupeds
growl? Apropos, our sick dog is deceased.Has
” Some weeks after he says,
“What the deuce would
”
“
” August.
“bears no brother near the throne; if so, I will make the sceptre totter in his hands.
” “
”
“third—at least so he says. In
every bookseller’s window I see my own name and say nothing;
but enjoy fame in secret. My last reviewer kindly requests me to alter my determination of
writing no more; and a friend to the cause of literature begs I will
gratify the public with some new work at no very distant day. Who would not be a
bard? However, the others will pay me off, I doubt not,for this gentle encouragement. If
so, have at ’em.
” October. “Apropos. I have been praised to the skies in
the
” “My laurels have
turned my brain, but the
” cooling acids of forthcoming criticism will
probably restore me to modesty.
Things thus went on swimmingly till early in the spring of 1808, when cooling acid was about to be administered to him in
the shape of an aperient-paper in the I am of so much importance, that a most violent
attack is preparing for me in the next number or the
” The dose was duly administered—but instead of
cooling the system, it blew up all his heart’s blood into a fever. Reading it now, one
cannot help seeing that the critique must have been written either by a naturally and
habitually despicable dunce, or by some person whom private pique (the more likely supposition
perhaps) had reduced to that condition. Its sneers and sarcasms are all about
silent rages;” but that seems merely to have been
with his nurse or his mother, or other old women who plagued his childhood. At such times his
face was wont to pale. But now he spoke out, and his face reddened, and he drank goblets of
mighty wine, at every gulp vowing vengeance and retribution. The Reviewer had got the wrong sow
by the ear—or rather the sow was a lion, who, with one “couch-paw,” flabbergasted
him to the earth. How the Malignant must have shouted, and chuckled, and crowed, among his yet
uncowed compeers, like a great big long-legged, huge-comb-and-wattled Malay bantam, larger than
a chanticleer himself of the old English breed, game to the back-bone, and never to be taken
from the sod, but victorious or dead! But
article, which if not witty in itself, deserves eminently the credit of causing
wit in others. Seldom,
” says he, “indeed, has it fallen to the lot of
the justest criticism to attain celebrity such as injustice has procured for this; nor, as
long as the short but glorious race or
” All that
is mighty well; but methinks somewhat too “melancholy and gentlemanlike.” For the
animus of the article was infamous. We do not so much object to the critic’s feeble taste
as to his false heart—but the bark of such a cur was worse than his bite—the sting of such an
adder was not mortal, because it had too often on other objects spent its venom. Was it the
same Abject who tried to assassinate one dismal universal
hiss,
” the sound of public scorn—intelligible to the now old and toothless serpent.
“
” continues It is but justice, however, to
remark,
” Beautifully expressed—and
towards the close finely felt too—as almost every thought is in this noble volume. But why so
anxious to do without at the same time
intending any excuse for the contemptuous tone of criticism assumed by the
reviewer, that the early verses of such justice to a literary felon? Why not rather untie
than tie the noose? Why loosen it—except, indeed—which was not Contemptuous tone of criticism!
” That is softening down—aye, slobbering
over the crime. If distinguished for
grace and elegance,
” what means It is but justice to remark?
’ Nothing—or rather worse than nothing; a
latent, yet obvious inclination to let down softly a contributor to the “do read poems
by the light of his subsequent glory;
” but we do so with the juvenile poems of
almost all great bards—after they have been great; and therefore, however true the thought,
“it is but justice to remark
” that it affords no justification of the
original sinner.
But we are put into the most thorough sympathy with
“There is, indeed, one point of view in which these
productions are deeply and intrinsically interesting. As faithful reflections of his
character at that period of life, they enable us to judge of what he was in his yet
unadulterated state,—before disappointment had begun to embitter his ardent spirits, or the
stirring up of the energies of his nature had brought into activity all its defects.
Tracing him thus through the natural effusion of his young genius, we find him pictured
exactly such in all the features of his character, as every anecdote of his boyish days
proves him really to have been,—proud, daring, and passionate,—resentful of slight or
injustice, but still more so in the cause of others than in his own; and yet with all his
vehemence, docile and placable, at the least touch of a hand authorized by love to guide
him. The affectionateness, indeed, of his disposition, traceable as it is through every
page of this volume, is yet but faintly done justice to, even by himself;—his whole youth
being, from earliest childhood, a series of the most passionate attachments,—of those
overflowings of the soul, both in friendship and love, which are still more rarely
responded to than felt, and which, when checked or sent back upon the heart, are sure to
turn into bitterness.
“We have seen also, in some of his early unpublished
poems, how apparent, even through the doubts that already clouded them, ore those feelings
of piety which a soul like his could not but possess, and which, when afterwards directed
out of their legitimate channel, found a vent in the poetical worship of nature, and in
that shadowy substitute for religion which superstition offers. When, in addition, too, to
these traits of early character, we find
.”
That is admirable,—all but the last sentence, in which we see the hand of a man
of finest feelings and genius trying in vain to wash the greasy face of a stupid
“The effect this criticism produced upon him can only be
conceived by those, who, besides having an adequate notion of what most poets would feel
under such an attack, can understand all that there was in the temper and disposition of
“Among the less sentimental effects of this
” after the first twenty lines, he felt himself considerably
better.
’
“The misanthropic mood of mind into which he had fallen
at this time, from disappointed affections and thwarted hopes, made the office of satirist
but too congenial and welcome to his spirit. Yet it is evident, that this bitterness
existed far more in his fancy than in his heart; and that the sort of relief be now found
in making war upon the world, arose much less from the indiscriminate wounds he dealt
around, than from the new sense of power he became conscious of in dealing them, and by
which he more than recovered his former station in his own esteem. In truth, the
versatility and ease with which, as shall presently be shewn, he could, on the briefest
consideration, shift from praise to censure, and sometimes, almost as rapidly, from censure
to praise, shews how fanciful and transient were the impressions under which he, in many
instances, pronounced his judgments; and, though it may in some degree deduct from the
weight of his eulogy, absolves him also from any great depth of malice in his
satire.
”
The sort of life which
“I took my gradations in the vices with great
promptitude, but they were not to my taste; for my early passions, though violent in the
extreme, were concentrated, and hated division or spreading abroad. I could have left or
lost the whole world with, or for, that which I loved; but, though my temperament was
naturally burning, I could not share in the commonplace libertinism of the place and time
without disgust. And yet this very disgust, and my heart thrown back upon itself, threw me
into excesses perhaps more fatal than those from which I shrunk, as fixing upon one (at a
time) the passions, which, spread amongst many, would have hurt only myself.
”
Though from the causes here alleged, the irregularities made to go farther than a thousand in those of others.
The only bald part of this Biography is that which relates to
In the Autumn of this year—1808—If you please, we will forget the things you mention. I have no desire to
remember them. When my rooms are finished I shall be happy to see you; as I tell but the
truth, you will not suspect me of evasion. I am furnishing the house more for you than
myself; and I shall establish you in it before I sail for India, which I expect to do in
March, if nothing particularly ob
” In the end of this year
he lost his favourite dog
” To old Here, my old fellow!
”
His time at Newstead during this autumn was principally occupied in enlarging
and preparing his Satire for the press. Considerable part of it, it appears, was written before
the
“It is somewhat remarkable, that excited as he was by the
attack of the Reviewers, and possessing, at ail times, such rapid powers of composition, he
should have allowed so long an interval to elapse between the aggression and the revenge.
But the importance of his next move in literature seems to have been fully appreciated by
him. He saw that his chances of future eminence now depended upon the effort he was about
to make; and therefore deliberately collected all his energies for the spring. Among the
preparatives by which he disciplined his talent to the task, was a deep study of the
writings of
”
The aggression
and the revenge.
” It was not long in creating a considerable sensation—and was
soon attributed to
“Great as was the advance which his powers had made,
under the influence of that resentment from which he now drew his inspiration, they were
yet, even in his satire, at an immeasurable distance from the point to which they
afterwards so triumphantly rose. It is, indeed, remarkable, that, essentially as his genius
seemed connected with, and, us it were, springing out of his character, the developement of
the one should so long have preceded the full maturity of the resources of the other. By
her very early and rapid expansion of his sensibilities, nature had given him notice of
what she destined him for, long before he understood the call; and those materials of
poetry with which his own fervid temperament abounded, were but by slow degrees, and after
much self-meditation, revealed to him. In his satire, though rigorous, there is but little
foretaste of the wonders that followed it. His spirit was stirred, but he had not yet
looked down into its depth, nor does even his bitterness taste of the bottom of the heart,
like those sarcasms which he afterwards flung in the face of mankind. Still had the other
countless feelings and passions, with which his soul had been long labouring, found an
organ worthy of them;—the gloom, the grandeur, the tenderness of his nature, all were left
without a voice, till his mighty genius at last awakened in its strength.
“In stooping, as he did, to write after established
models, as well in the satire as in his still earlier poems, he shewed how little he had
yet explored his own original resources, or found out those distinctive marks by which he
was known through all time. But, bold and energetic as was his general character, he was,
in a remarkable degree, diffident in his intellectual powers. The consciousness of what he
could achieve, was but by degrees forced upon him; and the discovery of so rich a mine of
genius in his soul, came with no less surprise on himself than on the world. It was from
the same slowness of self-appreciation, that, afterwards, in the full flow of his fame, he
long doubted, as we shall see, his own aptitude for works of wit and humour,—till the happy
experience of ‘
“But, however far short of himself his first writings
must be considered, there is in his satire a liveliness of thought, and, still more, a
vigour and courage, which, concurring with the justice of his cause and the sympathies of
the public on his side, could not fail to attach instant celebrity to his name.
Notwithstanding, too, the general boldness and recklessness of his tone, there were
occasionally mingled with this defiance some allusions to his own fate and character, whose
affecting earnestness seemed to answer for their truth, and which were of a nature strongly
to awaken curiosity as well as interest.
”
A few days previous to the publication of the that he must do something in the House
soon,
” as well as from more definite intimations of the same intention to
none to do him reverence.
” He was received in one of
the antechambers by some of the officers in attendance, and by one of them conducted into the
house, in which there were very few persons.
“He passed the woolsack without looking round, and
advanced to the table where the proper officer was attending to administer the oaths. When
he had gone through them, the
” If I had shaken hands heartily, he would set me down for one
of his party—but I will have nothing to do with
’
Had he been connected with any distinguished political families, says
The sudden success of his wit and honour about town.
” He had
declared his determination to quit England for a season; “but I am coming back again,
and their vengeance will keep hot till my return. Those who know me can testify that my
motives for leaving England are very different from fears, literary or personal. Those who
do not, may one day be convinced. Since the publication of this thing, my name has not been
concealed. I have been mostly in London, ready to answer for my transgressions, and in
daily expectation of sundry cartels. But, alas! the ‘
” This Postscript age of chivalry is
over,
’ or, in the vulgar tongue, ‘there is no spirit
now-a-days.
’much to the credit of his discretion and taste,
”
quoth most earnestly entreated the
poet to suppress. It is to be regretted that the adviser did not succeed in his efforts, as
there runs a tone of bravado through this ill-judged effusion, which it is at all times
painful to see a really brave man assume.
” Poo—poo—all nonsense. Old
discretion and
taste
”—which here mean humdrumishness and humbug—much more conspicuously had he tried
to prevent the publication of the Satire. Whereas the bit body was delighted out of his small
wits to play the midwife, and assist that fine thumping boy into the world of letters. Why, is
not the Satire, from beginning to end, one tissue of abuse and defiance?
an ill-judged effusion;
” but since the discretion and taste
” of
dull persons of honour and wit about town
” to have done his
business; he knew that many young altogether,—and
By the bye, This is not
”
“justAll this bad, because
” What a
discovery! Every thing that is not just in a satire is bad, and every thing that is personal.personal! Then he ought, after copying some hundred lines, or so, to
have thrown his Satire into the fire. For our own parts, we would pay a crown to see the face
of a nobleman or gentleman, who all over the world enjoyed the reputation of a Great Satirist,
abhorring injustice and personality as he did the devil and all his legions. bad, because not just!
”—“bad, because personal!
”
Alas! so great would seem our crimes, that the Fudge Family would be sent to Botany Bay with
the
So seriously shocked and so hideously horrified was the tone and temper of it being such as I cannot
approve
”—that while jotting down his shock and his horror, he could not help
bursting forth into such penitent and remorseful expressions as,
’Twas but an “ebullition”—and not fit subject for notes of
repentance—truth and justice,
” of
“taste and discretion
” in his own satires,—exclaiming all the while,
with a grave face, if that be in the power of clay—“Their tone and temper are such as
I cannot approve!!
” Why—the Public—all the while he was pretending to be weeping
in her confidential bosom—the worthy wicked old Public—Heaven bless her—would be shaking her
sides as convulsively as the knowing rogue himself pretending to palinode in his nurse’s
arms—and were no vent afforded, she would die of a suppression of guffaw.
With regard again to the duello, we do not remember that any other gentlemen
worth mentioning were so insulted by kennel-born
” had been terrified in his flight by the horrors of a double
shadow.
While engaged in preparing his new edition for the press, Merry Monks of Newstead.
”
“But if the place itself appear rather strange to you,
the ways of the inhabitants will not appear much less so. Ascend, then, with me the hall
steps, that I may introduce you to my lord and his visitants. But have a care how you
proceed; be mindful to go there in broad daylight, and with your eyes about you. For,
should you make any blunder,—should you go to the right of the hall steps, you are laid
hold of by a bear; and, should you go to the left, your case is still worse, for you run
full against a wolf! Nor, when you have attained the door, is your danger over; for the
hall being decayed, and therefore standing in need of repair, a bevy of inmates are very
probably banging at one end of it with their pistols, so that if you enter without giving
loud notice of your approach, you have only escaped the wolf and the bear, to expire by the
pistol shots of the merry monks of Newstead.
“Our party consisted of
“I must not omit the custom of handing round, after
dinner, on the removal of the cloth, a human skull, filled with Burgundy. After revelling
on choice viands, and the finest wines of France, we adjourned to tea, where we amused
ourselves with reading, or improving conversation,—each, according to his fancy,—and after
sandwiches, &c. retired to rest.
“A set of monkish dresses, which had been provided, with
all the proper apparatus of crosses, beads, tonsures, &c. often gave a variety to our
appearance and to our pursuits.
”
What could be more harmless than all this? It shews, says monastic dome, condemned to uses vile,
” adding,
Old satiated with pleasure, and disgusted with those
companions who have no other resource, he had resolved on mastering his appetites; he broke
up
” Contrast this picture of Newstead Abbey,
by sub introductæno
other resource but pleasure;
” for they were, one and all of them, men of great
talents, acquirements, and accomplishments, and “though not averse to convivial
indulgences, (what monks ever were?) were of talents and tastes too intellectual for more
vulgar debauchery;
”—and had the “aged moralist” been among them,
would have carried him, when half, or whole seas over, up stairs to bed, and seen his
night-capped head laid asleep with its cotton tassel depending over his left ear, with a
careful tenderness, on which it would not have been easy to pronounce too eulogistic a
panegyric.
Having broken up his imaginary harams,—no more
“I am going abroad, if possible, in the spring, and
before I depart, I am collecting the pictures of my most intimate school-fellows: I have
already a few, and shall want yours, or my cabinet will be incomplete. I have employed one
of the first miniature painters of the day to make them, of course at my own expense, as I
never allow my acquaintance to incur the least expenditure to gratify a whim of mine. To
mention this may seem indelicate; but when I tell you a friend of ours first refused to sit
under the idea that he was to disburse on the occasion,
”
Here we indeed see—as
We have now followed the progress of hand
open as day to melting charity.
” A little later on, when he was child or boy no
longer—but man indeed—we learn from the gratitude of an accomplished scholar, who did not
desire to conceal from the world the merit of such a noble benefaction, that he thought little
of a thousand-pound free gift to a friend who needed it. The price of his first great work he
handed over to
If his friendships were passions,—what were his loves? They were as pure as
ever were Imagination’s dreams. “We have seen,
” says with what passionate enthusiasm he threw
himself into his boyish friendships. The all-absorbing and unsuccessful love that followed,
was the agony, without being the death, of this unsated desire, which lived through life,
filled his poetry with the very soul of tenderness, lent the colouring of its lights even
to those unworthy ties, which vanity or passion led him afterwards to form, and was the
last aspiration of his fervid spirit, in those stanzas written but a few months before his
death:
If such a being had had a mother and sisters worthy of him, how might his love
for them—continuous and placid—have softened all that was sullen, and lightened all that was
dark in his spirit! His sister loved him, and that she had her own worth.
With slenderest means, she had supported the husband who had deceived and deserted her; with
slenderest means, she had provided ease and comfort for himself,—and for all that, and more
than that, which a son only knows, he forgave, forgot, and deplored.
With a soul thus endowed with such a capacity, and power, and passion for
passion, no wonder that
Unfortunately—fatally—With him,
” says the canker
shewed itself ‘
” He was—or strove to think he was—a deist. Some of his
poetry, written so early as 1806, breathes a fervent and devout spirit of natural religion.
Surely, he never lost hope in the immortality of the soul! Yet it seems to have wavered—as it
ever must do—in the virtuous as much perhaps as in the vicious—and in very mixed characters
more than in any other—without the fan and fuel of the Christian faith. There is a fearful
fascination in all unhallowed thoughts that dare to speculate too curiously on the brink of the
grave. Sympathy with the dread that breathes upon us mortal creatures from the wormy and clammy
clay makes Sain the morn and dew of youth,
’ when the effect of such
‘blastments’ is for every reason most fatal; and, in addition to the real
misfortune of being an unbeliever at any age, he exhibited the rare and melancholy
spectacle of an unbelieving schoolboy. The same prematurity of developement which brought
his passions and genius so early into action, enabled him also to anticipate this worst,
dreariest result of reason; and at the very time of life when a spirit and temperament like
his most required control, those checks which religious prepossessions best supply, were
almost wholly wanting.
The philosophic melancholy of some stanzas in the land of souls beyond that
sable flood,
” reminds us of some sublime sentences of who anticipated the worst experience, both of the voluptuary and
the reasoner, readied, as he supposed, the boundary of this world s pleasures, and saw
nothing but clouds and darkness beyond—the anomalous doom, which a nature, premature in all
its passions and powers, reflected on
” That his moral being waxed strong and even pure in youth as it
did, under the baneful influence of such a creed, proves that his creed was not permanently
dark, or unbroken in upon from on High, by flashes of light. And it proves, too, that the soul
that escaped from it,—not unscathed, indeed, nor unpolluted,—but with so many virtues,—must
needs have been formed “in the prodigality of Heaven.
”
Let us not be so far misunderstood, as to seem to sanction any sacrifice of
the claims of morality and religion—to Genius. But in
He was no seducer of female innocence. He was not a gambler. Nobody ever said
he was a drunkard. What then were his sins? Ask your own heart, and it will answer, Probably
the same as your own. But he moved before the eyes of the world, an object conspicuous in his
own light; and thus the stains on his “bright and shining youth
” were
visible both near and afar, while the blots on yours have been unobserved, in its obscurity and
insignificance. Were a sudden revelation to be made, before the eyes of the little world in
which you move, (we mean nothing personal,) of all your delinquencies, into what a horrible
monster would you be transformed! You, the immaculate, would be covered over with black and
yellow spots, like a leopard or the plague.
In things ensued that wanted grace;
” but let us not heap upon his
youth all the charges to which he may plead guilty in more advanced years. Above all, let us
not heap upon it charges now known to be as false as ever were canted from the lips of
malignant hypocrisy;
will see in Flaming Ministers
”—Justice and Truth.
Now—no more. Recollecting