Mad, bad and dangerous to know – the peerless Lord Byron

Posted in English Literature, Historical articles, History, Politics on Wednesday, 26 February 2014

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This edited article about Lord Byron first appeared in Look and Learn issue number 571 published on 23 December 1972.

Lord Byron,  picture, image, illustration

Lord Byron in Albanian costume by T Phillips

The townspeople of Cambridge were used to some strange happenings during term time, when the high spirits of the undergraduates were often demonstrated in fights or frolics in the town. So, too, were the Tutors and Fellows of the University when the peace and quiet of their beloved Colleges were shattered by the noise, bustle and excitement which seemed always to follow the young men around. There had been duels and boxing matches, people climbing church spires, others falling into the river – it sometimes seemed as if no one did any studying at all.

But in 1808 even those who thought they had experienced everything and could no longer be surprised, were seen rubbing their eyes in astonishment. One of the undergraduates from Trinity College had acquired a new pet and was taking it for a quiet stroll through the town. The only problem was that the pet was a tame bear! The huge animal shuffled amiably along, its lumbering gait causing chaos. A friendly pat from it could knock a man head over heels and when it tried to change direction horses bolted, baskets were overturned and ladies dashed for shop doorways.

It came as no surprise to the College authorities to learn that the owner of this beast was the young Lord Byon. He was rich, brilliant, witty and completely spoiled and despite his ability almost the only thing he had managed to do since he arrived at the University was get head over heels in debt. Byron was summoned and asked why he had brought the bear to Cambridge. His answer made him even less popular with the tutors. “Why, to sit for a Fellowship,” he replied.

The incident of the bear was just one of many in an extraordinarily colourful life that started in poverty, saw wealth, fame and disgrace in quick succession and ended with a hero’s death. In between, Byron’s poetry and satire had captured the imagination of Europe and he remains one of the best known of English poets.

Byron was born into a family noted for its eccentric characters. His grandfather had been an Admiral, known as “Foul Weather Jack” because he seemed to attract storms every time he put to sea. Early on in his naval service he had been shipwrecked off the coast of Chile and only survived after tremendous hardships. His grandson used some of the old man’s tales in his poem “Don Juan.” Byron’s father was known as “Mad Jack” and with some reason; he was a handsome but profligate man who squandered a fortune and let his family fend for themselves as best they could.

As if to complete the picture, Byron inherited his title from an uncle known as the “Wicked Lord” (he had been tried by the House of Lords for murder). It was a strange and not particularly happy heritage and much of Byron’s odd behaviour and disregard of other people’s feelings has to be seen against the extraordinary background from which he came.

He was born on 22nd January, 1788, with a club foot and was always very sensitive about being lame. Until the age of ten he lived with his mother in Aberdeen, poor and apparently forgotten by the rest of the family after his father died. Yet suddenly life changed overnight – he became a Lord, inherited a vast estate and exchanged the life of his local grammer school for the imposing buildings of Harrow.

Battles with the boys and quarrels with the masters gradually faded as he took more interest in sport and despite his disability he swam, boxed and played cricket with skill and enthusiasm. So, too his time at Cambridge passed with a mixture of learning, gambling, sport and riotous behaviour which shocked many but which somehow seemed to be expected of the young Lord Byron.

Like many a rich young nobleman he decided to finish his education with the “Grand Tour”. He would spend a year or two travelling round Europe, looking at other civilisations and cultures, seeking to broaden his appreciation of art and music and generally combining excitement, pleasure and learning in equal quantities before returning to make his mark in Britain.

The journey through Portugal, Spain and Malta was pleasant enough but it was Eastern Europe which really made an impression on Byron. Greece in particular was a land he would not forget and his trip to Albania had an element of danger that made it all the more appealing.

At that time, Albania was an unknown country. In the wild mountains bandits and brigands ruled and even the soldiers who helped to keep order seemed half barbaric to English eyes. The men wore skirts and goatskin cloaks; there were high-capped Tartars and black slaves, mosques and minarets, in a world that seemed totally alien and exciting. Byron met the ruler, Ali Pacha, who was renowned both for his courage and his cruelty and the experience was something he never forgot.

It was in Albania that Byron began what is probably his most famous work “Childe Harolde’s Pilgrimage”. He continued it for the rest of his tour, during which he visited Turkey. There, while his ship was becalmed, he swam the famous channel at the mouth of the Hellespont. In the classical tale Leander had swum across to join his lover; now Byron looked at the two banks and the swift tide which, like a river, separates Europe from Asia. He failed at his first attempt but later, after an hour and a half in the water, climbed triumphantly out on the other bank.

Byron had published one volume of poems whilst he was still at Cambridge, but “Childe Harolde” – romantic, sad and full of discontent, made him famous overnight. He followed it with tales inspired by Eastern Europe, like “The Corsair” and “The Bride of Abydos” and it seemed as if the handsome, aristocratic and witty young poet could do no wrong.

Byron married in 1815, but his wife left him within a year and soon the famous poet was scandalising London. Rumours of his behaviour and disapproval of his way of life turned people against him so much that Byron eventually left England for good and most of the rest of his life was spent in Italy. There he became friends with the poet Shelley and there, too, he continued to write with just as much success. “Don Juan”, lighthearted and full of fun at the expense of things and people he disliked, is his best-known work from this period.

Events were, however, moving dramatically to climax in Greece and Byron, who was still fascinated by the country, soon became involved. He joined the Greeks in their fight for independence from the Turks and into this fierce but ill-disciplined and chaotic struggle he tried hard to bring some order.

The gay, cynical poet from the fashionable house parties found himself in a country that was “all rocks and robbers” and engaging in the dangerous business of war. Though lame, he was certainly a man of action. His letters now were full of hard common sense, pointing out his needs; “a pack of field artillery, fit for mountain service, gunpowder, hospital and medical stores”.

With the help of a naval officer, Parry, Byron entered into plans to attack the Turkish fortress of Lepanto. Though discouraged by the Greek’s inability to work together Byron evidently did not lose his sense of humour. On hearing that Parry had been worried by a mild earthquake, he managed to stage an artificial one a few days later, when Parry called at his house. Fifty men, hidden in the cellars, jumped around until the house (which was none too solid) really shook. Men on the upper floors rolled cannon balls around to complete the illusion and while Parry fled, terror struck, Byron roared with laughter.

There was little else to laugh about in the disheartening struggle against the Turks. Then, early in 1824, during his morning ride, Byron was drenched by a sudden downpour. He contracted marsh fever and died 10 days later. To the Greeks he was a national hero and a salute of 37 guns was fired from the great battery of Missolonghi to honour him. The rough, wooden soldier’s coffin was taken back to England but it is on the continent, even now, that he is most admired. In an age of revolution he somehow caught the imagination of Europe with his blend of personality, idealism and fervour and he is still regarded there as one of the greatest of English poets.

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