Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron
Chapter VIII
RECOLLECTIONS
OF THE
LIFE OF LORD BYRON,
FROM THE YEAR
1808 TO THE END OF 1814;
EXHIBITING
HIS EARLY CHARACTER AND OPINIONS, DETAILING THE PROGRESS OF HIS
LITERARY CAREER, AND INCLUDING VARIOUS UNPUBLISHED
PASSAGES OF HIS WORKS.
TAKEN FROM AUTHENTIC DOCUMENTS.
IN THE POSSESSION OF THE AUTHOR.
BY THE LATE
R. C. DALLAS, Esq.
TO WHICH IS PREFIXED
AN ACCOUNT OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES LEADING TO THE SUPPRESSION
OF LORD
BYRON’S CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE AUTHOR,
AND HIS LETTERS TO HIS MOTHER,
LATELY
ANNOUNCED FOR PUBLICATION.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL-EAST.
MDCCCXXIV.
CHAPTER VIII.
RETROSPECT—MAIDEN SPEECH.
As I was now near Lord Byron,
for he was at this time seldom absent from town, our personal communications were frequent;
and, except a few queries addressed to him on the proofs, his work went smoothly on through
the press during the months of January and February, without further solicitation on my
part, till we came to the shorter Poems, when I urged him to omit the one entitled
“Euthanasia,” which he
was kind enough to consent to do; but which, I must add, he had not resolution enough to
persist in suppressing, and it was inserted in the succeeding editions.
Lord Byron had excited in my heart a warm affection; I
felt, too, some pride in the part I took in combating his errors, as well as in being
instrumental to his reputation, and I anxiously wished to see a real change of mind
effected in him. Though I could not flatter myself that I had made any successful invasion
on his philosophical opinions, and was almost hopeless on the subject, I was still very
desirous to keep as much as possible of his free-thinking in a latent state, being as
solicitous that he should acquire the esteem and affection of men, as I was eager in my
anticipation of the admiration and fame that awaited his genius. It was with this view I
wished, and sometimes prevailed upon him, to suppress some passages in his compositions:
and it was with this view that I often spoke to him of the superior and substantial fame,
the way to which lay before him through the House of Lords, expressing my
hope of one day seeing him an active and eloquent statesman. He was
alive to this ambition; and I looked accordingly for great enjoyment in the session of
1812, now approaching.
In spite of these prospects—in spite of genius—in spite of
youth—Lord Byron often gave way to a
depression of spirits, which was more the result of his peculiar position than of any
gloomy tendency received from nature. The fact is, he was out of his sphere, and he felt
it. By the death of his cousin William, who was
killed at a siege in the Mediterranean, he unexpectedly became presumptive heir to his
grand uncle, and not long after succeeded to the
barony, at a very early period of his minority. His immediate predecessor had long given up
society; and, after his fatal duel with Mr.
Chaworth, had never appeared either at Court or in Parliament, but shut himself
up in Newstead Abbey, the
monastic mansion of an estate bestowed
upon one of his ancestors by Henry VIII. at the
suppression of the religious houses; or, if compelled to go to London on business, he
travelled with the utmost privacy, taking the feigned name of Waters. From him, therefore, no connexion could spring. His brother, the
Admiral, was a man very highly respected; but he
too, after distinguishing his courage and ability, had been unfortunate in his professional
career, and equally avoided society. The elder son
of the admiral was an officer of the guards; who, after the death of his first wife,
Lady Conyers, by whom he had only one daughter, married Miss
Gordon, of Gight, a lady related to a noble family in Scotland, of whom
Lord Byron was born, and whom his lordship took a pleasure in
stating to be a descendant of King James II. of
Scotland, through his daughter, the princess Jane
Stuart, who married the Marquis of Huntley. But neither did she bring connexion. At the death of
her husband, she found her finances in an impoverished state, and she consequently by no
means associated in a manner suitable to the situation of a son who was one day to take a
seat among the Peers of Great Britain. Captain George Anson
Byron, whom I have mentioned in the first chapter, the brother of her
husband, had, a little before she became a widow, obtained the command of a frigate
stationed in the East Indies, where, while engaged in a particular service, he received a
blow which caused a lingering disorder and his death*.
* I cannot resist the impulse I feel to introduce here the memorial
of him, which was published in most of the public papers and journals at the time of
his death.
“George Anson Byron was a Captain in
the British navy, and second son of the late Admiral, the Honourable John Byron, by whom he was introduced
very early into the service; in which, having had several opportunities of exerting
personal bravery and professional skill, he
|
This was the greatest loss Lord Byron,
however unconscious of it, ever sustained. His uncle George not only
stood high in his
attained a great degree of glory. In the war with France, previous to its
revolution, he commanded the Proserpine, of 28 guns, in which he engaged the
Sphinx, a French frigate, assisted by an armed ship; and some time after the
Alcmene, another French frigate, both of which severally struck to his superior
conduct and gallantry. In the course of the war he was appointed to the command
of the Andromache, of 32 guns. He was present at Lord
Howe’s relief of Gibraltar, and at Lord Rodney’s victory over Count de Grasse, to the action of which he was
considerably instrumental; for, as it was publicly stated at the time, being
stationed to cruise off the Diamond Rock, near Martinico, he kept the strictest
watch upon the enemy, by sailing into the very mouth of their harbour, and gave
the Admiral such immediate notice of their motions, that the British squadron,
then lying off St. Lucia, were enabled to intercept and bring them to battle.
In consequence of that important victory, he was selected by Lord
Rodney to carry home Lord
Cranstoun, with the account of it. In the despatches, Byron’s services were publicly and
honourably noticed, and he had the gratification of being personally well
received by his Majesty. “Desirous of serving in the East Indies, and applying |
profession, but was generally beloved, and personally well
connected. Had he returned from India with health, he would
for a ship going to that quarter of the globe, he was appointed to the command
of the Phœnix, of 36 guns, and sailed with a small squadron under the
Hon. William Cornwallis, early in
the year 1789. Ever active, he sought the first occasion of being serviceable
in the war against Tippoo Saib, and at the
very outset intercepted the Sultan’s transports, loaded with military
stores. After this he distinguished himself by landing some of his cannon, and
leaving a party of his men to assist in reducing one of the enemy’s
fortresses on the coast of Malabar. Unfortunately he fell a victim to his
alacrity in that war. “When General Abercrombie was on
his march towards Seringapatam, the ship which Byron commanded lay off the mouth of a river, on which his
assistance was required to convey a part of the army, and it was necessary that
he should have an interview with the General. At the time that the interview
was to take place, it blew fresh, and there was a heavy sea on the bar of the
river; but the service required expedition, and danger disappeared before his
eagerness. A sea broke upon the boat, and overset it: in rising through the
waves the gunwale struck him twice violently upon the breast, and when he was
taken up, it was not supposed that he could survive the shock he had sustained.
He was, however, for a time |
have made amends for the failure resulting from the supineness or
faults of other parts of the family; and his nephew would have grown up in society that
would have given a different turn to his feelings. The Earl of
Carlisle and his family would have acted
restored to life, but he was no more to be restored to his country. The faculty
did what could be done to preserve him, and then ordered him to England, rather
hoping than believing that he could escape so far with life. “In England he lived above twelve months; during which he suffered the
misery of witnessing the dissolution of a beautiful, amiable, and beloved
wife, who died at Bath, on the 26th
of February, 1793, at the age of twenty-nine years; upon which he fled with his
children to Dawlish, and there closed his eyes upon them, just three months and
a fortnight after they had lost their mother. “In his public character he was brave, active, and skilful; and by his
death his Majesty lost an excellent and loyal officer. In his private
character, he was devout without ostentation, fond of his family, constant in
friendship, generous and humane. The memory of many who read this will bear
testimony to the justice of the praise; the memory of him who writes it will,
as long as that memory lasts, frequently recall his virtues, and dwell with
pleasure on his friendship.” |
a different part. They received his sister kindly as a relation; and there could have been no reason why their
arms should not have been open to him also, had he not been altogether unknown to them
personally, or had not some suspicion of impropriety in the mode of his being brought up
attached to him or his mother. Be this as it may, certain it is, his relations never
thought of him nor cared for him; and he was left both at school and at college to the
mercy of the stream into which circumstances had thrown him. Dissipation was the natural
consequence; and imprudencies were followed by enmity which took pains to blacken his
character. His Satire had in some degree
repelled the attacks that had been made upon him, but he was still beheld with a surly awe
by his detractors; and that poem, though many were extolled in it, brought him no friends.
He felt himself Alone. The town was now full; but in its concourse he had no intimates whom he esteemed, or wished
to see. The Parliament was assembled, where he was far from being dead to the ambition of
taking a distinguished part; there he was, if it may be said, still more alone.
In addition to this his affairs were involved, and he was in the hands of
a lawyer,—a man of business. To these combined
circumstances, more than either to nature, or sensibility on the loss of a mistress, I
imputed the depressed state of mind in which I sometimes found him. At those times he
expressed great antipathy to the world, and the strongest misanthropic feelings,
particularly against women. He did not even see his sister, to whom he afterwards became so attached. He inveighed more
particularly against England and Englishmen; talked of selling Newstead, and of going to
reside at Naxos, in the Grecian Archipelago, to adopt the
eastern
costume and customs, and to pass his time in studying the Oriental languages and
literature. He had put himself upon a diet, which other men would have called starving, and
to which some would have attributed his depression. It consisted of thin plain biscuits,
not more than two, and often one, with a cup of tea, taken about one o’clock at noon,
which he assured me was generally all the nourishment he took in the four-and-twenty hours.
But he declared, that, far from sinking his spirits, he felt himself lighter and livelier
for it; and that it had given him a greater command over himself in every other respect.
This great abstemiousness is hardly credible, nor can I imagine it a literal fact, though
doubtless much less food is required to keep the body in perfect health than is usually
taken. He had a habit of perpetually chewing mastic, which probably assisted his
determination to persevere in this mea-gre regimen; but I have no
doubt that his principal auxiliary was an utter abhorrence of corpulence, which he
conceived to be equally unsightly and injurious to the intellect; and it was his opinion
that great eaters were generally passionate and stupid.
As the printing of Childe
Harold’s Pilgrimage drew towards a conclusion, his doubt of its success
and of its consequences was renewed; he was occasionally agitated at the thought, and more
than once talked of suppressing it. But while this was passing in his mind, the poem had
begun to work its way by report; and the critical junto were prepared, probably through
Mr. Gifford, for something extraordinary. I now
met more visitors, new faces, and some fashionable men at his lodgings; among others,
Mr. Rogers, and even Lord Holland himself. Soon after the meeting of Parliament, a Bill was
introduced into the House of Lords in consequence of Riots in Nottinghamshire,
for the prevention of those riots, in which the chief object of the
rioters was the destruction of the manufacturing frames throughout the country, so as to
compel a call for manual labour. Lord Byron’s
estate lying in that county, he felt it incumbent upon him to take a part in the debate
upon the Bill, and he resolved to make it the occasion of his first speech in the House.
But this Nottingham Frame-breaking Bill, as it was called, was also interesting to the
Recorder of Nottingham, Lord Holland, who took the lead in opposing
it. Lord Byron’s interest in the county, and his intention
respecting the Bill were made known to Mr. Rogers, who, I understood,
communicated it to Lord Holland, and soon after made them acquainted.
In his Satire, Mr.
Rogers ranked, among the eulogized, next to Gifford;
and Lord Holland, among the lashed, was just not on a par with
Jeffrey. The introduction took place at
Lord Byron’s lodgings, in St. James’s-street—I
happened to be there at the time, and I thought it a curious event. Lord
Byron evidently had an awkward feeling on the occasion, from a conscious
recollection, which did not seem to be participated by his visitors. Lord
Holland’s age, experience, and other acquired distinctions, certainly,
in point of form, demanded that the visit should have been paid at his house. This I am
confident Lord Byron at that time would not have done; though he was
greatly pleased that the introduction took place, and afterwards waved all ceremony. It
would be useless to seek a motive for Lord Holland’s
condescension, unless it could be shown that it was to overcome evil with good. Whether
that was in his mind or not, the new acquaintance improving into friendship, or something
like it, had a great influence in deciding the fate of a new edition of English Bards and Scotch Re-viewers, which the publisher,
Cawthorn, was now actively preparing, to
accompany the publication of the Hints from
Horace, that was still creeping on in the press.
Meanwhile, the Poem that was to be the foundation of Lord Byron’s fame, and of the events of his future days,
retarded nearly a month longer than was proposed, was now promised to the public for the
end of February. The debate on the Nottingham Frame-Breaking Bill was appointed for the
27th of the same month. It was an extraordinary crisis in his life. He had before him, the
characters of a Poet and of an Orator to fix and to maintain. For the former, he depended
still upon his Satires, more than upon Childe
Harold’s Pilgrimage, which he contemplated with considerable dread; and,
for the latter, he not only meditated, but wrote an oration, being afraid to trust his
feelings in the assembly he was to address, with an extemporaneous
effusion at first. He occasionally spoke parts of it when we were alone; but his delivery
changed my opinion of his power as to eloquence, and checked my hope of his success in
Parliament. He altered the natural tone of his voice, which was sweet and round, into a
formal drawl, and he prepared his features for a part—it was a youth declaiming a
task. This was the more perceptible, as in common conversation, he was remarkably easy and
natural; it was a fault contracted in the studied delivery of speeches from memory, which
has been lately so much attended to in the education of boys. It may wear off, and yield to
the force of real knowledge and activity, but it does not promise well; and they who fall
into it are seldom prominent characters in stations where eloquence is required. By the
delay of the printer, Lord Byron’s maiden speech preceded the
appearance of his poem. It produced a considerable effect in the
House of Lords, and he received many compliments from the Opposition Peers. When he left
the great chamber, I went and met him in the passage; he was glowing with success, and much
agitated. I had an umbrella in my right hand, not expecting that he would put out his hand
to me—in my haste to take it when offered, I had advanced my left
hand—“What,” said he, “give your friend your left hand upon
such an occasion?” I showed the cause, and immediately changing the umbrella
to the other hand, I gave him my right hand, which he shook and pressed warmly. He was
greatly elated, and repeated some of the compliments which had been paid him, and mentioned
one or two of the Peers who had desired to be introduced to him. He concluded with saying,
that he had, by his speech, given me the best advertisement for Childe
Harold’s Pilgrimage.
A short time afterwards, he made me a present of the original manuscript
of his speech which he had previously written,—and from that manuscript, I now insert it here as a literary curiosity,
not devoid of interest.
“My Lords,
“The subject now submitted to your
Lordships, for the first time, though new to the House, is, by no means, new to
the country. I believe it had occupied the serious thoughts of all descriptions
of persons long before its introduction to the notice of that Legislature whose
interference alone could be of real service. As a person in some degree
connected with the suffering county, though a stranger, not only to this House
in general, but to almost every individual whose attention I presume to
solicit, I must claim some portion of your Lordships’ indulgence, whilst
I offer a few observations on a question in which I confess myself deeply
interested. To enter into any detail of these riots would be su-
perfluous; the House is already aware that every outrage
short of actual bloodshed has been perpetrated, and that the proprietors of the
frames obnoxious to the rioters, and all persons supposed to be connected with
them, have been liable to insult and violence. During the short time I recently
passed in Notts, not twelve hours elapsed without some fresh act of violence;
and, on the day I left the county, I was informed that forty frames had been
broken the preceding evening as usual, without resistance and without
detection. Such was then the state of that county, and such I have reason to
believe it to be at this moment. But whilst these outrages must be admitted to
exist to an alarming extent, it cannot be denied that they have arisen from
circumstances of the most unparalelled distress. The perseverance of these
miserable men in their proceedings, tends to prove that nothing but absolute
want could have driven a large and once honest and industrious body of the
people into the commission of excesses so hazardous to themselves, their
families, and the community. At the time to which I allude, the town and county
were burdened with large detachments of the
military; the police was in motion, the magistrates assembled, yet all these
movements, civil and military had led to—nothing. Not a single instance
had occurred of the apprehension of any real delinquent actually taken in the
fact, against whom there existed legal evidence sufficient for conviction. But
the police, however useless, were by no means idle: several notorious
delinquents had been detected; men liable to conviction, on the clearest
evidence, of the capital crime of poverty; men, who had been nefariously guilty
of lawfully begetting several children, whom, thanks to the times!—they
were unable to maintain. Considerable injury has been done to the proprietors
of the improved frames. These machines were to them an advantage, inasmuch as
they superseded the necessity of employing a number of workmen, who were left
in consequence to starve. By the adoption of one species of frame in
particular, one man performed the work of many, and the superfluous labourers
were thrown out of employment. Yet it is to be observed, that the work thus
executed was in-
ferior in quality, not marketable at
home, and merely hurried over with a view to exportation. It was called, in the
cant of the trade, by the name of Spider-work. The rejected workmen, in the
blindness of their ignorance, instead of rejoicing at these improvements in
arts so beneficial to mankind, conceived themselves to be sacrificed to
improvements in mechanism. In the foolishness of their hearts, they imagined
that the maintenance and well doing of the industrious poor, were objects of
greater consequence than the enrichment of a few individuals by any improvement
in the implements of trade which threw the workmen out of employment, and
rendered the labourer unworthy of his hire. And, it must be confessed, that
although the adoption of the enlarged machinery, in that state of our commerce
which the country once boasted, might have been beneficial to the master
without being detrimental to the servant; yet, in the present situation of our
manufactures, rotting in warehouses without a prospect of exportation, with the
demand for work and workmen equally diminished, frames of this construction
tend ma-
terially to aggravate the distresses and
discontents of the disappointed sufferers. But the real cause of these
distresses, and consequent disturbances, lies deeper. When we are told that
these men are leagued together, not only for the destruction of their own
comfort, but of their very means of subsistence, can we forget that it is the
bitter policy, the destructive warfare, of the last eighteen years, which has
destroyed their comfort, your comfort, all men’s comfort;—that
policy which, originating with “great statesmen now no
more,” has survived the dead to become a curse on the living unto
the third and fourth generation! These men never destroyed their looms till
they were become useless, worse than useless; till they were become actual
impediments to their exertions in obtaining their daily bread. Can you then
wonder, that in times like these, when bankruptcy, convicted fraud, and imputed
felony, are found in a station not far beneath that of your Lordships, the
lowest, though once most useful portion of the people, should forget their duty
in their distresses, and become only less guilty than one of their
representatives? But while the ex-
alted offender can find
means to baffle the law, new capital punishments must be devised, new snares of
death must be spread, for the wretched mechanic who is famished into guilt.
These men were willing to dig, but the spade was in other hands; they were not
ashamed to beg, but there was none to relieve them. Their own means of
subsistence were cut off; all other employments pre-occupied; and their
excesses, however to be deplored and condemned, can hardly be the subject of
surprise. It has been stated, that the persons in the temporary possession of
frames connive at their destruction; if this be proved upon inquiry, it were
necessary that such material accessories to the crime should be principals in
the punishment. But I did hope that any measure proposed by His Majesty’s
Government for your Lordships’ decision, would have had conciliation for
its basis; or, if that were hopeless, that some previous inquiry, some
deliberation, would have been deemed requisite; not that we should have been
called at once, without examination and without cause, to pass sentences by
wholesale, and sign death-warrants
blindfold. But
admitting that these men had no cause of complaint, that the grievances of them
and their employers were alike groundless, that they deserved the worst; what
inefficiency, what imbecility, has been evinced in the method chosen to reduce
them! Why were the military called out to be made a mockery of—if they
were to be called out at all? As far as the difference of seasons would permit,
they have merely parodied the summer campaign of Major
Sturgeon; and, indeed, the whole proceedings, civil and
military, seem formed on the model of those of the Mayor and Corporation of
Garrett. Such marchings and countermarchings! from Nottingham to
Bulnell—from Bulnell to Bareford—from Bareford to Mansfield! and,
when at length, the detachments arrived at their destination, in all ‘the
pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war,’ they came just in time to
witness the mischief which had been done, and ascertain the escape of the
perpetrators;—to collect the
spolia opima, in the fragments of broken frames, and return to their quarters
amidst the derision of old women, and the hootings of children. Now, though in
a
free country, it were to be wished that our military
should never be too formidable, at least, to ourselves, I cannot see the policy
of placing them in situations where they can only be made ridiculous. As the
sword is the worst argument that can be used, so should it be the last: in this
instance it has been the first, but, providentially as yet, only in the
scabbard. The present measure will, indeed, pluck it from the sheath; yet had
proper meetings been held in the earlier stages of these riots,—had the
grievances of these men and their masters (for they also have had their
grievances) been fairly weighed and justly examined, I do think that means
might have been devised to restore these workmen to their avocations, and
tranquillity to the country. At present the county suffers from the double
infliction of an idle military and a starving population. In what state of
apathy have we been plunged so long, that now, for the first time, the house
has been officially apprised of these disturbances? All this has been
transacting within one hundred and thirty miles of London, and yet we,
‘good easy men! have deemed full sure our greatness
was a ripening,’ and have sat down to
enjoy our foreign triumphs in the midst of domestic calamity. But all the
cities you have taken, all the armies which have retreated before your leaders,
are but paltry subjects of self-congratulation, if your land divides against
itself, and your dragoons and executioners must be let loose against your
fellow-citizens. You call these men a mob, desperate, dangerous, and ignorant;
and seem to think that the only way to quiet the ‘Bellua
multorum capitum’ is to lop off a few of its
superfluous heads. But even a mob may be better reduced to reason by a mixture
of conciliation and firmness, than by additional irritation and redoubled
penalties. Are we aware of our obligations to a
mob! It
is the mob that labour in your fields, and serve in your houses—that man
your navy, and recruit your army—that have enabled you to defy all the
world,—and can also defy you, when neglect and calamity have driven them
to despair. You may call the people a mob, but do not forget that a mob too
often speaks the sentiments of the people. And here I must remark with what
alacrity you are accus-
tomed to fly to the succour of
your distressed allies, leaving the distressed of your own country to the care
of Providence or—the parish. When the Portuguese suffered under the
retreat of the French, every arm was stretched out, every hand was
opened,—from the rich man’s largess to the widow’s mite, all
was bestowed to enable them to rebuild their villages and replenish their
granaries. And at this moment, when thousands of misguided but most unfortunate
fellow-countrymen are struggling with the extremes of hardship and hunger, as
your charity began abroad, it should end at home. A much less sum—a tithe
of the bounty bestowed on Portugal, even if these men (which I cannot admit
without inquiry) could not have been restored to their employments, would have
rendered unnecessary the tender mercies of the bayonet and the gibbet But
doubtless our funds have too many foreign claims to admit a prospect of
domestic relief,—though never did such objects demand it. I have
traversed the seat of war in the peninsula; I have been in some of the most
oppressed provinces of Turkey; but never, under the most des-
potic of infidel governments, did I behold such squalid
wretchedness as I have seen since my return, in the very heart of a Christian
country. And what are your remedies? After months of inaction, and months of
action worse than inactivity, at length comes forth the grand specific, the
never-failing nostrum of all state-physicians, from the days of Draco to the
present time. After feeling the pulse and shaking the head over the patient,
prescribing the usual course of warm water and bleeding—the warm water of
your mawkish police, and the lancets of your military—these convulsions
must terminate in death, the sure consummation of the prescriptions of all
political Sangrados. Setting aside the palpable injustice and the certain
inefficiency of the bill, are there not capital punishments sufficient on your
statutes? Is there not blood enough upon your penal code! that more must be
poured forth to ascend to heaven and testify against you? How will you carry
this bill into effect? Can you commit a whole county to their own prisons? Will
you erect a gibbet in every field, and hang up men like scarescrows? or will
you proceed (as you must to bring this measure into
effect) by decimation; place the country under martial law; depopulate and lay
waste all around you; and restore Sherwood Forest as an acceptable gift to the
crown in its former condition of a royal chase, and an asylum for outlaws? Are
these the remedies for a starving and desperate populace? Will the famished
wretch who has braved your bayonets be appalled by your gibbets? When death is
a relief, and the only relief it appears that you will afford him, will he be
dragooned into tranquillity? Will that which could not be effected by your
grenadiers, be accomplished by your executioners? If you proceed by the forms
of law, where is your evidence? Those who have refused to impeach their
accomplices when transportation only was the punishment, will hardly be tempted
to witness against them when death is the penalty. With all due deference to
the noble lords opposite, I think a little investigation, some previous
inquiry, would induce even them to change their purpose. That most favourite
state measure, so marvellously efficacious in many and recent instances,
temporizing, would not be without its advantage in this.
When a proposal is made to emancipate or relieve, you hesitate, you deliberate
for years, you temporize and tamper with the minds of men; but a death-bill
must be passed off hand, without a thought of the consequences. Sure I am, from
what I have heard and from what I have seen, that to pass the bill under all
the existing circumstances, without inquiry, without deliberation, would only
be to add injustice to irritation, and barbarity to neglect. The framers of
such a bill must be content to inherit the honours of that Athenian lawgiver
whose edicts were said to be written, not in ink, but in blood. But suppose it
past,—suppose one of these men, as I have seen them meagre with famine,
sullen with despair, careless of a life which your lordships are perhaps about
to value at something less than the price of a stocking-frame; suppose this man
surrounded by those children for whom he is unable to procure bread at the
hazard of his existence, about to be torn for ever from a family which he
lately supported in peaceful industry, and which it is not his fault than he
can
no longer so support; suppose this man—and
there are ten thousand such from whom you may select your
victims,—dragged into court to be tried for this new offence, by this new
law,—still there are two things wanting to convict and condemn him, and
these are, in my opinion, twelve butchers for a jury, and a
Jefferies for a judge!”
Anonymous,
“Dallas’s Recollections of Lord Byron” in Gentleman’s Magazine
Vol. 94 (November 1824)
Mr. DALLAS, the author of the
“Recollections,” has
soon followed the subject of his work to the “bourne whence no traveller
returns.” He was at the time of his death 70 years of age, and was personally
connected with the Noble Lord’s family, his sister
having married the father of the present Peer. These circumstances led, at one period of his
Lordship’s life, to a degree of intimacy; in the course of which Mr.
Dallas not only became one of his Correspondents, but was entrusted with the
duty of an Editor to several of his poems, and lastly was made the depositary of many of his
Lordship’s confidential letters to his mother and other persons. Whether those letters
were or were not intended by Lord Byron to see the light at
a future period, is a matter of some doubt. We confess we think they were; but his executors
have restrained their publication. A long “preliminary statement,” of 97 pages,
drawn up by the Rev. A. R. C. Dallas, son of the Author,
is occupied with the disputes between his father and the executors, who obtained an injunction
from the Court of Chancery against the publication of the Letters. We pass over this, and come
to the “Recollections.” . . .
Anonymous,
“Dallas’s Recollections of Lord Byron” in Gentleman’s Magazine
Vol. 94 (November 1824)
In our review of Capt.
Medwin’s book (p. 436), we have observed, that the publication of Childe Harold was
“the crisis of Lord Byron’s fate as a
man and a poet.” The present volume sets this truth in the strongest light;
but it adds a fact so extraordinary, that if it were not related so circumstantially, we
own we should hesitate to give it credence—this fact is, that Lord
Byron himself was insensible to the value of Childe Harold, and could with difficulty be brought to
consent to its publication! He had written a very indifferent paraphrase of Horace’s Art of Poetry, and was anxious to have it
published. . . .
Anonymous,
“Dallas’s Recollections of Lord Byron” in Gentleman’s Magazine
Vol. 94 (November 1824)
Childe Harold, with all its moral
faults, is beyond a doubt the great work of Lord Byron. No
one, after reading it, can deny him to be a Poet. Yet was this production the ruin of his
Lordship’s mind. “The rapidity of the sale of the Poem,” says Mr. Dallas, “its reception, and the elution of the
author’s feelings were unparalleled.” This elation of feeling was the
outbreaking of an inordinate vanity which had at last found its food, and which led him in the
riotous intoxication of his passions to break down all the fences of morality, and to trample
on everything that restrained his excesses. Mr. Dallas rendered him
essential service, by persuading him to omit some very blamable stanzas: and when he could not
prevail on him to strike out all that was irreligious, he entered a written Protest against certain passages. This protest, which is a very curious document, is
preserved in p. 124 of the volume before us. Probably Lord Byron grew
weary of such lecturing; for in a few years he dropped his intimacy with Mr.
Dallas, and fell into other hands, which only accelerated his degradation. . . .
Anonymous,
“Dallas’s Recollections of Lord Byron” in Gentleman’s Magazine
Vol. 94 (November 1824)
It certainly does appear that Mr. Dallas,
from the first to the last of his intimacy with Lord Byron,
did every thing that a friend, with the feelings of a parent, could do to win his Lordship to
the cause of virtue, but unhappily in vain. . . .
Anonymous,
“Dallas’s Recollections of Lord Byron” in Gentleman’s Magazine
Vol. 94 (November 1824)
The concluding chapter of this book is written by Mr. Dallas, jun. to whom his father on his death-bed confided the task of
closing these “Recollections.” This Gentleman’s
reflections on the decided and lamentable turn which the publication of Childe Harold gave to Lord Byron’s character, are forcible and just. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Since
Orrery wrote his defamatory life of Swift, and since Mr.
Wyndham published Doddington’s diary, in order to expose the author of that strange record of venality, we are not
aware that the friends or family of any writer have deliberately set down to diminish his
fame and tarnish his character. Such, however, has been the case in the work before us. We
do not mean to say that such was the first object in view by the author or authors of this
volume. No; their first object was the laudable motive of putting money into their purses;
for it appears upon their own showing, that Mr. R. C. Dallas, having
made as much money as he could out of lord Byron in his life time,
resolved to pick up a decent livelihood (either in his own person or that of his son) out
of his friend’s remains when dead. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
But it appears that Mr. R. C. Dallas
could not wait for his money so long as was requisite, and that in the year 1819 he became
a little impatient to touch something in his life time: accordingly, in an evil hour, he
writes a long long letter to lord Byron, containing a debtor and
creditor account between R. C. Dallas and his lordship; by which, when
duly balanced, it appeared that said lord Byron was still considerably
in arrears of friendship and obligation to said R. C. Dallas, and
ought to acquit himself by a remittance of materials (such is
Mr. R. C. Dallas’s own word, in his own letter, as will be
seen by and by) to his creditor Mr. R. C.
Dallas. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
The death of lord Byron, of
course, seemed at once to promise this settlement: no sooner had he heard it, than he set
about copying the manuscripts; he wrote to Messrs.
Galignani at Paris, to know whether they would “enter into the speculation” of publishing some very interesting manuscripts
of lord Byron; he set off for London; he sold the volume to a London:
bookseller, and “he returned without loss of time to
France.” His worthy son has told us all this himself, at pages 94 and 96 of his
volume, and has actually printed the letter his father wrote to Messrs.
Galignani, to show, we suppose, how laudably alert Mr. R. C.
Dallas evinced himself to be on this interesting opportunity of securing his
lawful property. The booksellers, also, performed their part; they announced the “Private Correspondence” of lord Byron for
sale; and, as it also appears by this volume, were so active as to be prepared to bring
their goods to market before lord Byron’s funeral. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
They thought
differently of the publication of private letters; and Mrs. Leigh
desired Mr. Hobhouse one of the executors, to write
to Mr. R. C. Dallas to say, that she should think the publication, in
question “quite unpardonable,” at least for the present, and unless
after a previous inspection by his lordship’s family. Unfortunately for Mr.
Dallas, it appears, according to this volume, that Mr.
Hobhouse did not in this letter, state that he was lord
Byron’s executor; but merely appealed to Mr. R. C.
Dallas’s “honour and feeling,” wishing
probably to try that topic first; and thinking it more respectful to do so, than to
threaten the author with legal interference at once. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Mr. Dallas was resolved upon getting his money, and wrote a very angry
letter, not to Mr. Hobhouse but to Mrs. Leigh
(which, his prudent son has also printed), containing menaces not unkilfully calculated to
intimidate that lady, especially considering that she must have been at that moment
peculiarly disposed to receive any unpleasant impressions—her brother’s corpse
lying yet unburied. For an author and seller of Remains the time was
not ill chosen—by a gentleman and a man, another moment, to say nothing of another
style, might perhaps have been selected. But no time was to be lost; the book must be out
on the 12th of July, and out it would have been had not the executors procured an
injunction against it on the 7th of the same month, and thus very seriously damaged, if not
ruined, Mr. R. C. Dallas’s “speculation.” . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Ninety-seven
pages of the volume are taken up with a statement of the proceedings in Chancery, which
were so fatal to the “speculation.” In this statement, which is written by
Mr. Alexander Dallas, the son of Mr.
R. C. Dallas, who died before the volume could be published, it may easily
be supposed that all imaginable hard things are said of those who spoiled the speculation.
The executors, and lord Byron’s sister, are spoken of in terms
which, if noticed, would certainly very much increase those “expenses” of which the Rev. Alexander Dallas so
piteously complains; for we doubt if any jury would hesitate to return a verdict of libel
and slander against many passages which we could point out in the preliminary
statement. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Lord Byron was taken into Scotland by his mother and
father, and Mrs. Leigh was left in England with her
grandmother, to whom her father had consigned her on condition that she should provide for
her. They were thus separated from 1789 until lord Byron came to
England; when thy met as often as possible, although it was not easy to bring them
together, as Mrs. Byron, the mother of
lord Byron, had quarrelled with lady
Holdernesse. For the intercourse which did take place, the brother and
sister were indebted to the kind offices of lord
Carlisle. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
That lord Byron might have dropt an
unguarded opinion as to relationship in general is possible, though such an error is
nothing in comparison with the atrocity of coolly recording that opinion as if it had been
an habitual sentiment, which we say it was not. We say that it is untrue that lord Byron declaimed against the ties of
consanguinity. It is untrue that he entirely withdrew from the
company of his sister during the period alluded to. It is untrue
that he “made advances” to a friendly intercourse with her only after the
publication of Childe Harold, and only at
the persuasion of Mr. R. C. Dallas. Mrs. Leigh corresponded with lord Byron at the very time
mentioned, and saw in lord Carlisle’s house in
the spring of 1809; after which he went abroad, and did not return until July 1811. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
We speak from the same authority, when we say that what is said of
lord Carlisle, though there was, as all the world
knows, a difference between his lordship and lord Byron,
is also at variance with the facts. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Such was Mr. Alexander
Dallas’s letter to Mr.
Hobhouse; and that he should, after writing such a letter, make a statement
which he knew the production of that letter could positively contradict, is an instance of
confidence in the forbearance of others such as we never have happened before to witness.
We beg the reader to compare the words in italics from Mr.
Dallas’s statement with the words in capitals from Mr.
Dallas’s letter—and then to ask himself whether he thinks
lord Byron’s
reputation, or that of his relations and friends, has much to suffer or
fear from such a censor as the Reverend Alexander Dallas. In the
Statement, he tells the world that Mr. Hobhouse is mentioned in
lord Byron’s letters in the enumeration of his suite; and,
in a remark, that lord Byron was satisfied at being alone. In the
letter, he tells Mr. Hobhouse, that “he (Mr.
Hobhouse) is mentioned throughout the whole of the correspondence with great
affection.” . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
It answered the purpose of the editor to
deal in the strongest insinuations against Mr. Hobhouse; but,
unfortunately, his father had, in the course of his correspondence with lord
Byron, mentioned that gentleman in very different terms—what does
the honest editor do? he gives only the initial of the name, so that the eulogy, such
as it is, may serve for any Mr. H * *. Mr. R. C.
Dallas’s words are, “I gave Murray your note on M * *, to be placed in the page with Wingfield. He must have been a very extraordinary
young man, and I am sincerely sorry for H * *, for whom I have felt an
increased regard ever since I heard of his intimacy with my son at Cadiz, and that they
were mutually pleased” [p. 165]. The H * * stands for
Hobhouse, and the M * * whom R. C. Dallas
characterises here, “as an extraordinary young man,” becomes, in the hands
of his honest son, “an unhappy Atheist” [p. 325], whose name he mentions,
in another place, at full length, and characterises him in such a way as must give the
greatest pain to the surviving relations and friends of the deceased. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
We now come to the reverend gentleman’s father, and as the death of
lord Byron did not prevent that person from writing
what we know to be unfounded of his lordship, we shall not refrain, because he also is
dead, from saying what we know to be founded of Mr. R. C.
Dallas. In performing this task we are, most luckily, furnished with a list
of Mr. Dallas’s pretensions, by Mr. Dallas
himself, in the shape of a letter written by that person to lord Byron
in 1819, of which the Reverend Alexander Dallas has
thought fit to publish a considerable portion. To this letter, or list of Mr. R.
C. Dallas’s brilliant virtues, and benefits conferred upon
lord Byron, we shall oppose an answer from a person, whom neither
Mr. R. C. Dallas nor his reverend son had ever dreamt could appear
against them again in this world—that person is lord Byron
himself. For it so happens, that although his lordship did not reply to the said letter by
writing to the author, yet he did transmit that epistle, with sundry notes of his own upon
it, to one of his correspondents in England. The letter itself, with lord
Byron’s notes, is now lying before us, and we shall proceed at once to
cite the passages which lord Byron has commented upon, all of which,
with one exception, to he noticed hereafter, have before been given to the public. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
Across these passages, opposite the words “saving you from
perpetuating the enmity,” lord Byron has put
“the Devil you did?” and over the
words “rapid retrograde motion” lord Byron has
written “when did this happen? and how?”
. . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
We have now to mention that, Mr. R. C.
Dallas after the words which conclude his letter, as given by his son,
namely, these words: “but my present anxiety is, to see you restored to your
station in this world, after trials that should induce you to look seriously into
futurity.”—after these words, we find in the original letter the
following— . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
The upshot of this letter appears to be, to obtain my sanction to
the publication of a volume about
Mr. Dallas and
myself, which I shall not allow. The letter has remained and will remain
unanswered. I never injured Mr. R. C. Dallas, but did him all
the good I could, and I am quite unconscious and ignorant of what he means by
reproaching me with ungenerous treatment; the facts will speak for themselves to
those who know them—the proof is easy. . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
These persons, whose work, or rather, whose conduct we are reviewing, have tried all the
common topics by which they think they may enlist the sympathy of their readers in their
favour, to the prejudice of their illustrious benefactor. They have bandied about the
clap-trap terms of atheism, scepticism, irreligion, immorality, &c. but the good sense,
nay more, the generosity, the humanity, and the true Christian spirit of their
fellow-countrymen, will reject such an unworthy fellowship. They may weep over the failings
of Byron; but they will cast from them, with scorn and reprobation,
detractors, whose censure bears on the face of it, the unquestionable marks of envy,
malice, and. all uncharitableness. Can anything be more unpardonable, anything more unfair,
for instance, than for the editor of this volume (the clergyman) to take for granted, that
the Conversations of Medwin are authentic, though he himself has given an
example of two gross mis-statements in them, which would alone throw a doubt over their
authenticity; and upon that supposition to charge lord Byron with being sunk to the lowest
depths of degradation? What are we to say to this person who, at the same time that he
assumes the general truth of the Conversations, makes an
exception against that part of them, which represents lord
Byron’s dislike of the anti-religious opinions of Mr. Shelley? . . .
[John Cam Hobhouse],
“[Review of Dallas and Medwin on Byron]” in Westminster Review
Vol. 3 (January 1825)
If the author of “Aubrey” had but read, or had not forgotten lord
Byron’s preface to the second edition of English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, he would have spared us
all this fine writing, for that preface explains that “phenomenon of the human mind, for which it is difficult to
account,” and which this poor writer has accounted for so
profoundly. . . .
[John Gibson Lockhart],
“Lord Byron” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 17
No. 97 (February 1825)
The story of his having said to his mother, when he and Mr
Hobhouse parted company on their travels, that he “was glad to be
alone,” amounts to nothing; for who is he, and above all, who is the poet, who does
not often feel the departure of his dearest friend as a temporary relief? The man
that was composing Childe Harold had other
things to entertain him than the conversation of any companion, however pleasant; and we
believe there are few pleasanter companions anywhere than Mr Hobhouse.
This story, however, has been magnified into a mighty matter by Mr Dallas, whose name has recently been rather wearisomely connected with
Lord Byron’s. . . .
[John Gibson Lockhart],
“Lord Byron” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 17
No. 97 (February 1825)
Old Mr Dallas appears to have been an
inveterate twaddler, and there are even worse things than twaddling alleged against him by
Mr Hobhouse, in the article we have been quoting.
The worst of these, however, his misstatement as to the amount of his pecuniary obligations to
Lord Byron, may perhaps be accounted for in a way much
more charitable than has found favour with Mr Hobhouse; and as to the son,
(Mr Alexander Dallas,) we assuredly think he has
done nothing, but what he supposed his filial duty bound him to, in the whole matter. Angry
people will take sneering and perverted views of the subject matter of dispute, without
subjecting themselves in the eyes of the disinterested world, to charges so heavy either as
Mr Hobhouse has thought fit to bring against Mr A.
Dallas, or as Mr A. Dallas has thought fit to bring against
Mr Hobhouse. As for the song of which so much has been said, what is it, after all, but a mere
joke— . . .
[John Gibson Lockhart],
“Lord Byron” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 17
No. 97 (February 1825)
Dallas’s book,
utterly feeble and drivelling as it is, contains certainly some very interesting
particulars as to his feelings when he was a very young author. The whole getting up of the
two first cantos of Childe Harold—the
diffidence—the fears —the hopes that alternately depressed and elevated his
spirits while the volume was printing, are exhibited, so as to form a picture that all
students of literature, at least, will never cease to prize. All the rest of the work is
more about old Dallas than young Byron, and is
utter trash. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
The only publications that contained any thing at once new and true
respecting Lord Byron were, Dallas’s Recollections, the Conversations by
Captain Medwin, and Parry’s and Gamba’s Accounts of his Last Days. A good deal of the real
character of his Lordship, though not always as the writer viewed it, may be gathered from
most of them; particularly the first two. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
Dallas, who was a sort of lay-priest, errs from
being half-witted. He must have tired Lord Byron to death with blind
beggings of the question, and solemn mistakes. The wild poet ran against him, and scattered
his faculties. To the last he does not seem to have made up his mind, whether his Lordship
was Christian or Atheist. I can settle at least a part of that dilemma. Christian he
certainly was not. He neither wrote nor talked, as any Christian, in the ordinary sense of
the word, would have done: and as to the rest, the strength of his belief probably varied
according to his humour, and was at all times as undecided and uneasy, as the lights
hitherto obtained by mere reason were calculated to render it. . . .
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
Now, the passage here quoted was quoted by myself, one of those
“atheists and scoffers,” according to Mr.
Dallas, by whom “he was led into defiance of the sacred
writings.” . . .
Pietro Gamba,
A Narrative of Lord Byron’s Last Journey to Greece (London: John Murray, 1825)
Again, in order to prove the difficulty of living with Lord Byron, it is said, that “When Mr. Hobhouse and he travelled in Greece together, they
were generally a mile asunder.” I have the best authority for saying, that
this is not the fact: that two young men, who were continually together and slept in the
same room for many months, should not always have ridden side by side on their journey is
very likely; but when Lord Byron and Mr. Hobhouse
travelled in Greece, it would have been as little safe as comfortable to be
“generally a mile asunder;” and the truth is, they were generally
very near each other. . . .
Sir Robert Abercromby (1740 c.-1827)
Commander-in-chief at Bombay who defeated Tippoo Sultan in 1792, and commander of the
British forces in the Rohilla War. He was MP for Clackmannan (1798).
Amelia Byron, baroness Darcy (de Knayth) [née Darcy] (1754-1784)
Daughter and heir of Robert D'Arcy, fourth earl of Holdernesse; in 1773 she married
Francis Osborne, marquess of Carmarthen, who divorced her following her affair with Captain
John Byron whom she married in 1779. She was the mother of Augusta Byron, the poet's
half-sister.
Charlotte Henrietta Byron [née Dallas] (1764 c.-1793)
The daughter of Robert Dallas (d. 1769) and sister of Robert Charles Dallas. She married
Captain George Anson Byron (1758-1793) and was mother of George Anson Byron, the future
seventh Baron Byron.
Captain George Anson Byron (1758-1793)
The son of Admiral John Byron and father of George Anson Byron, seventh lord Byron. He
married Charlotte Henrietta Dallas, sister of Robert Charles Dallas.
Admiral John Byron [Foulweather Jack] (1723-1786)
In 1741 Byron was shipwrecked while serving as a midshipman in the Pacific under
Commodore Anson, an account of which he published as
The Narrative of the
Hon. John Byron (1768).
John Byron [Mad Jack] (1756-1791)
The son of Admiral John Byron; he was the father of Lord Byron, and of Augusta Byron by a
prior marriage with Amelia Darcy, Baroness Darcy (1754-84).
William Byron (1772-1794)
The son of William Byron (d. 1776) and grandson and heir of the fifth Lord Byron; he was
killed in action in Corsica in 1794.
James Cawthorne (1832 fl.)
London bookseller who published Byron's
English Bards and Scotch
Reviewers (1809); he had a shop at 132 Strand from 1810-32.
William Chaworth (1726-1765)
He was killed in a dispute with the fifth Lord Byron, who was convicted but not punished
for the crime.
Sir William Cornwallis (1744-1819)
He fought in the Seven Years' War and was commander-in-chief in the East Indies 1789-93,
and of the Channel Fleet 1801, 1803-06.
James Cranstoun, eighth lord Cranstoun (1755-1796)
Son of the sixth lord Cranstoun; he commanded Sir George Rodney's flagship, the
Formidable against the French West Indies fleet (1782) and the Bellerophon under Admiral
Cornwallis (1795).
Henry Richard Fox, third baron Holland (1773-1840)
Whig politician and literary patron; Holland House was for many years the meeting place
for reform-minded politicians and writers. He also published translations from the Spanish
and Italian;
Memoirs of the Whig Party was published in 1852.
William Gifford (1756-1826)
Poet, scholar, and editor who began as a shoemaker's apprentice; after Oxford he
published
The Baviad (1794),
The Maeviad
(1795), and
The Satires of Juvenal translated (1802) before becoming
the founding editor of the
Quarterly Review (1809-24).
John Hanson (1755-1841)
Byron's solicitor and business agent.
Frederick Howard, fifth earl of Carlisle (1748-1825)
The Earl of Carlisle was appointed Lord Byron's guardian in 1799; they did not get along.
He published a volume of
Poems (1773) that included a translation
from Dante.
Richard Howe, earl Howe (1726-1799)
He was MP for Dartmouth (1757-82), sailed with Anson, fought in the Seven Years’ War,
created Earl Howe (1788), commander of the Channel Fleet (1790); vice-admiral of England
(1792-96).
King James VII and II (1633-1701)
Son of Charles I; he was king of England and Scotland 1685-88, forced from office during
the Glorious Revolution.
Francis Jeffrey, Lord Jeffrey (1773-1850)
Scottish barrister, Whig MP, and co-founder and editor of the
Edinburgh
Review (1802-29). As a reviewer he was the implacable foe of the Lake School of
poetry.
George Jeffreys, first baron Jeffreys (1645-1689)
Known as the “hanging judge,” he was chief justice of king's bench (1683-1685) in which
capacity he presided over the trial of Algernon Sidney and the Rye House plotters; he died
in the Tower of London.
Hon. Augusta Mary Leigh [née Byron] (1783-1851)
Byron's half-sister; the daughter of Amelia Darcy, Baroness Conyers, she married
Lieutenant-Colonel George Leigh on 17 August 1807.
George Bridges Rodney, first baron Rodney (1718-1792)
Read admiral (1759) and MP; he fought in Seven Years' War, defeated the Spanish off Cape
Vincent (1780) and the French under De Grasse off Dominica in 1782.
Samuel Rogers (1763-1855)
English poet, banker, and aesthete, author of the ever-popular
Pleasures of Memory (1792),
Columbus (1810),
Jaqueline (1814), and
Italy (1822-28).
Jane Stuart (1654 c.-1742)
An alleged natural daughter of James II and VII; she lived in a cellar in Wisbech.
Tippoo Sahib (1750-1799)
Son of Hyder Ali and maharajah of Mysore; he fought with the French against Lord
Cornwallis in 1792.