poet, excluded from Westminster Abbey, in her Library, and has thus ranked him with her other great members, Newton and Macaulay, whose statues (by Roubiliac and Woolner) stand in the ante-chapel. A number of his admirers, with Hobhouse at their head, raised by subscription the sum of 1,000l., which, however, was inadequate to secure the services of any eminent British artist; but Thorwaldsen having offered to undertake the work for that sum, the Committee closed with the generous proposal of that illustrious sculptor. The statue, though begun at the end of the year 1829, was not sent to England till 1834. Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's, the British Museum, the National Gallery were each in its turn considered as appropriate places for its reception; but all—even the secular institutions-refused to receive it, and the statue remained for ten years or longer unpacked in the cellars of the Custom House. Its exclusion from Westminster Abbey led to an animated controversy, and was the occasion of Hobhouse's 'Remarks on the Exclusion of Lord Byron's Monument from Westminster Abbey." The subscribers had not failed to point out to the artist that 'le pied droit de Byron était un peu contrefait,' and suggested that this defect might be best concealed by a sitting attitude. Thorwaldsen, accordingly, represents Byron seated on some broken fragments of Greek art, on which are carved a lyre and the owl of Athene. In his left hand he holds Childe Harold' half open, while with the right he leans the stylus on his chin, as if he were pursuing a thought which he wished to write down. The left foot rests on the fragment of a Doric column; the right leg is stretched out, the position suggesting, almost insensibly, the notion of a bodily

1 Originally printed for private circulation, but afterwards published in the 3rd edition of his Travels in Albania, i. 522–544.

defect. On the ground lies a skull, with reference perhaps to the gloomy and melancholy feelings of the poet, or more particularly to his skull-cup.' The head is a repetition of the bust made by Thorwaldsen from life, of which we shall hereafter speak.

1 Or rather to the stanzas 5 and 6 of the second canto of 'Childe Harold: '

' Remove yon skull from out the scattered heaps,' &c.]

CHAPTER III.

NEWSTEAD ABBEY.

1808-1809.

THE priory of Newstead (de novo Loco) was founded by Henry II. soon after 1170, and dedicated to God and the Virgin. In all probability its foundation was partly prompted by the desire to expiate the murder of Thomas à Beckett; though on the other hand, along with its religious purposes, there was evidently the intention of securing a strong position for the settling and civilising of the wild district in Sherwood Forest, where, amid the hilly region of Annesley, Newstead lay a few miles to the north-west of Nottingham. It is a peculiar coincidence, that as Ettrick Forest formed the romantic background of Walter Scott's home and life, so Sherwood Forest, made famous by Robin Hood and his merry men, forms the background of Byron's. Scarcely any other traces, indeed, than poetical legends and reminiscences, either of Sherwood or of Ettrick Forest, have withstood the destructive influence of time. At and around Newstead are still pointed out Robin Hood's hills, Robin Hood's stable, and Friar Tuck's cell; there is Fountain Dale, where Tuck lived for seven years, and at Mansfield, in close vicinity, now a thriving manufacturing town, is the scene of the ballad The King and the Miller of Mansfield.' This poetry of merry Sherwood Forest exercised, however, not the least perceptible influence on

the poetical development of Byron; while the echo of Ettrick Forest sounds, so to speak, like a refrain through all the life and fictions of Scott. It is remarkable also that it was Scott, and not Byron, who, in Ivanhoe,' enchanted us with the old life of Sherwood Forest. The monks at Newstead contributed without doubt to put an end to the practices and wild ways of the outlaws of Sherwood. They were canons regular of the order of Saint Augustine, and their merits in the work of civilisation were perhaps the cause of their enjoying the royal favour in things spiritual and temporal. They afterwards sank, in all probability, into luxury, and the Reformation extinguished their power and influence. Henry VIII. gave Newstead to the Byron family in reward for faithful and distinguished services. Sir John Byron the little, with the great beard,' was the fortunate recipient, and was at the same time appointed Lieutenant of Sherwood Forest. The Abbey was now adapted as much as possible to its secular character; its ecclesiastical character could not, however, be altogether obliterated, and much was still left which recalled its earlier destination.

6

The accession of property which the Byrons received by this secularisation was by no means inconsiderable. Newstead at the present day comprises, in wood, meadow and arable land 3,226 acres, with some lakes, well stocked with fish, of about forty-eight acres in extent. The latter were formed by the monks, by damming up a little stream, in order the more conveniently to supply themselves with the fish diet prescribed by their fasts. In one of these lakes, during the life of the fifth lord, a brazen eagle was found, which evidently had been used as a lectern, and within which the monks had concealed many valuable documents and charters belonging to the foundation. These documents have since disappeared, one only of their

number having been saved from destruction by Colonel Wildman; but the eagle itself, restored to its ancient and original purpose, is now in Southwell Minster. The most beautiful description of Newstead and its park Byron has himself given in 'Don Juan.'

It stood embosom'd in a happy valley,

Crown'd by high woodlands, where the Druid oak
Stood like Caractacus, in act to rally

His host, with broad arms 'gainst the thunderstroke;
And from beneath his boughs were seen to sally
The dappled foresters; as day awoke,
The branching stag swept down with all his herd,
To quaff a brook which murmur'd like a bird.

Before the mansion lay a lucid lake,

Broad as transparent, deep, and freshly fed
By a river, which its soften'd way did take
In currents through the calmer water spread
Around the wildfowl nestled in the brake

And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed:
The woods sloped downwards to its brink, and stood
With their green faces fix'd upon the flood.

Its outlet dash'd into a deep cascade,

Sparkling with foam, until again subsiding,
Its shriller echoes-like an infant made
Quiet-sank into softer ripples, gliding

Into a rivulet; and thus allay'd,

Pursued its course, now gleaming, and now hiding
Its windings through the woods; now clear, now blue,
According as the skies their shadows threw.

A glorious remnant of the Gothic pile

(While yet the church was Rome's) stood half apart In a grand arch, which once screen'd many an aisle. These last had disappear'd-a loss to art:

The first yet frown'd superbly o'er the soil,

And kindled feelings in the roughest heart,

Which mourn'd the power of time's or tempest's march,
In gazing on that venerable arch.