poses of reprisal; and although the verses might, in many respects, be deemed the offspring of hasty and indiscriminating resentment, they bore a strong testimony to the ripening talents of the author. Having thus vented his indignation against the critics and their readers, and put many, if not all the laughers upon his side, Lord Byron went abroad, and the controversy was forgotten för

some years.

"It was in 1812, when Lord Byron returned to England, that Childe Harold's Pilgrimage made its first appearance, producing an effect upon the public, at least equal to any work which has appeared within this or the last century. Reading is indeed so general among all ranks and clas-es, that the impulse received by the public mind on such occasions is instantaneous through all but the very lowest classes of society, instead of being slowly communicated from one set of readers to another, as was the case in the days of our fathers. The Pilgrimage,' acting on such an extensive medium, was calculated to rouse and arrest the attention in a peculiar degree. The fictitious personage, whose sentiments, however, no one could help identifying with those of the author himself, presented himself with an avowed disdain of all the attributes which most nien would be gladly supposed to possess. Childe Harold is represented as one satiated by indulgence in pleasure, and seeking in change of place and clime a relief from the tedium of a life which glided on without an object. The assuming of such a character as the medium of Communicating his poetry and his Sentiments, indicated a feeling towards the public, which, if it fell short of contemning their favour, disdained, at least, all attempt to propitiate them. Yet the very audacity of this repulsive personification, joined to the energy with which it was supported, and to the indications of a bold, powerful, and original mind which glanced through every line of the poem, electrified the mass of readers, and placed at once upon Lord Byron's head the garland for which

other men of genius have toiled long, and which they have gained late. He was placed pre-eminent among the literary men of his country by general acclamation. Those who had so rigorously censured his juvenile essays, and perhaps dreaded such another field, were the first to pay warm and, we believe, sincere homage to his matured efforts; while others, who saw in the sentiments of Childe Harold much to regret and to censure, did not withhold their tribute of ap plause from the depth of thought, the power and force of expression, the beauty of description, and the energy of sentiment which animated the Pilgrimage.

"It was amidst such feelings of admiration that Lord Byron entered, we may almost say for the first time, the public stage on which he has, for four years, made so distinguished a figure. Every thing in his manner, person, and conversation, tended to maintain the charm which his genius had flung around him; and those admitted to his conversation, far from finding that the inspired poet sunk into ordinary mortality, felt themselves attached to him, not only by many noble qualities, but by the inte rest of a mysterious, undefined, and almost painful curiosity.

"It is well known how wide the doors of society are opened in London to literary merit even of a degree far inferior to Lord Byron's, and that it is only necessary to be honourably distinguished by the public voice, to move as a denizen in the first circles. This passport was not necessary to Lord Byron, who possessed the hereditary claims of birth and rank. But the interest which his genius attached to his presence, and to his conversation, was of a nature far beyond what these hereditary claims could of themselves have conferred, and his reception was enthusiastic beyond any thing we have ever witnessed, or even heard reported. We have already noticed that Lord Byron is not one of those literary men of whom it may be truly said, MINUIT PRÆSENTIA FAMAM. A countenance, exquisitely modeled to the expression of feeling

and passion, and exhibiting the remarkable contrast of very dark hair and eye-brows, with light and expressive eyes, presented to the physiognomist the most interesting subject for the exercise of his art. The predominating expression was that of deep and habitual thought, which gave way to the most rapid play of features when he engaged in interesting discussion; so that a brother poet compared them to the sculpture of a beautiful alabaster vase, only seen to perfection when lighted up from within. The flashes of mirth, gaiety, indignation, or satirical dislike which frequently animated Lord Byron's countenance, might, during an evening's conversation, be mistaken by a stranger, for the habitual expression, so easily and so happily was it formed for them all; but those who had an opportunity of studying his features for a length of time, and upon various occasions, both of rest and emotion, will agree with us that their proper language was that of melancholy. Sometimes shades of this gloom interrupted even his gayest and most happy moments, and the following verses are said to have dropped from his pen to excuse a transient expression of melancholy which overclouded the general gaiety:

When from the heart where Sorrow sits,

Her dusky shadow mounts too high, And o'er the changing aspect flits,

And clouds the brow, or fills the eye→ Heed not the gloom that soon shall sink: My thoughts their dungeon know too well;

Back to my breast the captives shrink, And bleed within their silent cell.' "It was impossible to behold this interesting countenance, expressive of a dejection belonging neither to the rank, the age, nor the success of this young nobleman, without feeling an indefinable curiosity to ascertain whether it had a deeper cause than habit or constitutional temperament. It was obviously of a degree incalculably more serious than that alluded to by Prince Arthur

I remember when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad as night Only for wantonness'

But howsoever derived, this, joined, to Lord Byron's air of mingling is amusements and sports as if he contemned them, and felt, that his sphere was far above the frivolous crowd

which surrounded him, gave a strong effect of colouring to a character whose tints were otherwise romantic. Noble and far descended, his mind fraught with ancient learning and modern accomplishment, the pilgrim of distant and savage countries, eminent as a poet among the first whom Britain has produced, and having besides cast around him a mysterious charm arising from the sombre tone of his poetry, and the occasional melancholy of his deportment, Lord Byron occupied the eyes, and interested the feelings of all. The enthusiastic looked on him to admire, the serious with a wish to admonish, and the soft with a desire to console. Even literary envy, a base sensation, from which, perhaps, this age is more free than any other, forgave the man whose splendour dimmed the fame of his competitors. The generosity of Lord Byron's disposition, his readi ness to assist merit in distress, and to bring it forward where unknown, deserved and obtained the general regard of those who partook of such merit, while his poetical effusions, poured forth with equal force and fertility, shewed at once a daring confi-, dence in his own powers, and a determination to maintain, by continued in British literature. effort, the high place he had attained

This rapidity

of composition and publication we bave heard blamed as endangering the fame of the author, while it gave such proofs of talent. We are inclined to dispute the preposition, at least in the present instance."

SPANISH ACTRESS. FROM Cumberland's Memoirs of his Life (1806) we transcribe the following interesting description of a Spanish actress called the TIRANNA, with the whimsical anecdote which follows:

"At Madrid there was but one theatre for plays, no opera, and a most unsocial gloomy style of living seemed to characterise the whole body

of the nobles and grandees. I was not often tempted to the theatre, which was small, dark, ill-furnished, and ill attended, yet when the celebrated tragic actress, known by the title of the Tiranna, played, it was a treat, which I should suppose no other stage then in Europe could compare with. That extraordinary woman, whose real name I do not remember, and whose real origin cannot be traced, till it is settled from what particular nation or people we are to derive the outcast race of gipsies, was not less formed to strike beholders with the beauty and commanding majesty of her person, than to astonish all that heard her, by the powers that nature and art had combined to give her. My friend Count Pietra Santa, who had honourable access to this great stage-heroine, intimated to her the very high expectation I had formed of her performances, and the eager desire I had to see her in one of her capital characters, telling her, at the same time, that I had been a writer for the stage in my own country. In consquence of this intimation, she sent me word that I should have notice from her when she wished me to come to the theatre, till when, she desired I would not present myself in my box upon any night, though her name might be in the bill, for it was only when she liked her part, and was in the humour to play well, that she wished me to be present.

"In obedience to her message, I waited several days, and at last received the looked-for summons. I had not been many minutes in the theatre before she sent a message to me to go home, for that she was in no disposition that evening for playing well, and should neither do justice to her own talents, nor to my expectations. I instantly obeyed this whimsical injunction, knowing it to be so perfectly in character with the capricious humour of her tribe. When something more than a week had passed, I was again invited to the theatre, and permitted to sit out the whole representation. I had not then enough of the language to understand much more than the incidents and

action of the play, which was of the deepest cast of tragedy, for in the course of the plot she murdered her infant children, and exhibited them dead on the stage lying on each side. of her, whilst she, sitting on the bare floor between them (her attitude, action, features, tones, defying all description) presented such a highwrought picture of hysteric phrensy,

LAUGHING WILD AMIDST SEVEREST

woE, as placed her in my judgment at the very summit of her art; in fact I have no conception that the powers of acting can be carried higher, and such was the effect upon the audience, that whilst the spectators in the pit, having caught a kind of sympathetic phrensy from the scene, were rising up in a tumultuous manner, the word was given out by authority for letting fall the curtain, and a catastrophe, probably too strong for exhibition, was not allowed to be completed.

"A few minutes had passed, when this wonderful creature, led in by Pietra Santa, entered my box; the artificial paleness of her cheeks, her eyes, which she had died of a bright vermillion round the edges of the lids, her fine arms bare to the shoulders, the wild magnificence of her attire, and the pofusion of her dishevelled locks, glossy black as the plumage of raven, gave her the appearance of something so more than human, such a Sybil, such an imaginary being, so awful, so impressive, that my blood chilled, as she approached me not to ask but to claim my applause, demanding of me if I had ever seen any actress, that could be compared with her in my own, or any other, country. was determined,' she said, to exert myself for you this night; and if the sensibility of the audience would have suffered me to have concluded the scene, I should have convinced you that I do not boast of my own performances without reason."

I

"The allowances which the Spanish theatre could afford to make to its performers, were so very moderate, that I should doubt if the whole year's salary of the Tiranna would have more than paid for the magnificent dress in which she then appeared

but this and all other charges appertaining to her establishment were defrayed from the coffers of the Duke of Osuna, a grandee of the first class, and commander of the Spanish Guards. This noble person found it indispensably necessary for his honour to have the finest woman in Spain upon his pension, but by no means necessary to be acquainted with her, and, at the very time of which I am now speaking, Pietra Santa seriously assured me, that his Excellency had indeed paid large sums to her order, but had never once visited, or even seen her. He told me, at the same time, that he had very lately taken upon himself to remonstrate upon this want of curiosity, and having suggested to his excellency how possible it was for him to order his equipage to the door, and permit him to introduce him to this fair creature, whom he knew only by report, and the bills she had drawn upon his treasurer, the duke graciously consented to my friend's proposal, and actually set out with him for the gallant purpose of taking a cup of chocolate with his hitherto invisible mistress, who had notice given her of the intended visit. The distance from the house of the grandee to the apartments of the gipsy was not great, but the lulling motion of the great state-coach, and the softness of the velvet cushions had rocked his Excelleney into so sound a nap, that when his equipage stopped' at the lady's door, there was not one of his retinue bold enough to undertake the invidious task of troubling his repose. The consequence was, that after a proper time was passed upon the halt for this brave cominander to have waked, had nature so ordained it, the coach wheeled round, and his Excellency having slept away his curiosity, had not at the time when I left Madrid evor cast his eyes upon the person of the incomparable Tiranna. I take for granted my friend Pietra Santa drank the chocolate, and his Excellency enjoyed the nap. I will only add, in confirmation of my anecdote, that the good Abbe Curtis, who had the honour of educating this illustrious leeper, verified the fact.

GENEALOGY OF KING GEORGE
THE FOURTH.

MR. EDITOR,-I have drawn up for
your acceptance a Genealogy of his
present Majesty, King George the
Fourth, from the time of "William
the Conqueror,' which I hope to
have the pleasure of seeing in your
miscellany, and shall thereby be fully
compensated for any trouble I may
have experienced in the compilation
of it:-
George the 4th
is the son of
George the 3d who was grandson of
George the 24 who was the son of
George the 1st who was the cousin of
Anne who was sister-in-law of
William the 3d who was son-in-law of
James the 2d who was the brother of
Charles the 2d who was the son of
Charles the 1st who was the son of
James the 1st who was cousin of
Elizabeth who was the sister of
Mary
who was the sister of
Edward the 6th
Henry the 8th who was the son of
Henry the 7th who was the cousin of
Richard the 3d who was the uncle of
Edward the 5th who was the son of
Edward the 4th who was the cousin of
Henry the 6th
Henry the 5th
Henry the 4th
Richard the 2d
Edward the 3d
Edward the 2d
Edward the 1st
Henry the 34
John
Richard the 1st who was the son of
Henry the 2d who was the cousin of
Stephen who was the cousin of
Henry the 1st who was the brother of
William Rufus who was the son of
William the Conqueror.

who was the son of

who was the son of

who was the son of who was the cousin of

who was the son of

who was the son of who was the son of

who was the son of

who was the son of who was the brother of