On the first day of February 1814 -the publication of ‘The Corsair’ became a “thing perfectly unprecedented” according to His Lordship’s proud and increasingly successful publisher, John Murray.
As we know that no one lives forever and seven months after Lord B’s most facetious letter – his Mamma-At-Law died on Monday January 28 in 1822.
The Fifth Baron Byron was NOT the grandfather of our poet as purported by Alexander Larman in his sloppily researched tome Byron’s Women which was published to enormous fanfare in 2016 but rather THE great-uncle and it was upon his demise that Byron became a Lord and inherited land and titles which included the glorious ancestral abode of Newstead Abbey in Nottinghamshire.
January 25 is the celebration of Burns Night and having enjoyed a fabulous supper of Haggis – I had to refuse the ‘wee dram’ of fine Scotch whiskey on offer.
However, had I done so, I could have raised a glass in honour of the character in this post – Lady Caroline Lamb who died on this day in 1828 at the age of forty two
AND it’s probably fair to say that even with the passage of time, opinion remains as divided about her in death, as it was in life!
Byron was noted for his open manner and of his tendency to admit his feelings of despondency, sorrow or his word of choice – melancholy. For his poetry is noted for it, his private journals speak of it and he was often candid about his ‘constitutional depression of Spirits’ in letters to his friends.
Byron’s second proposal of marriage in September 1814 would lay the foundation stone for his eventual exile.
I will trust to YOU for ALL I should look up to – ALL I can love?
I confess that my attention wandered to the alluring and haughty figure of Mr Darcy in conversation with a certain Miss Bennet…
Born ‘out of my time’ and with a fond heart for Regency history – it is no secret that I also have a passionate interest in the life of the poet Lord Byron!
I have been reading the book by Ghislaine McDayter which places Byron and the heady years of stardom as the patriarch of all of our modern celebrities and so in addition to being a brilliant and irreverent poet, and despite his own cynicism on the matter – Byron is also honoured as the first ever celebrity…
In the hagiography which often passes for the writing of Byron’s life, Catherine Gordon Byron is somewhat of a ‘Marmite’ figure for you will either love OR hate her!
In 1824, the church of St Mary Magdalene in the town of Hucknall in Nottingham welcomed the safe arrival of Byron’s remains for burial after his death at the age of 36 on April 19 in the town of Missolonghi in Greece…
One July evening – Lord Byron attended a ‘Small Waltzing Party’ in London despite his intense dislike for the ‘fashionable Waltz’ on account of his lameness AND for his disdain for anything remotely fashionable…
One wonders if he had to try hard to persuade his ‘dearest friend’ to actually sit for Thorvaldsen as the first meeting between the artist and Byron was one of wry amusement on the part of one and studied indifference by the other…