BYRON AND HIS LAST BIOGRAPHER.
London, 2d March 1858. Sin—Will you allow me to call in question the first extract which you copied from Mr. Trelawny's "Last Days of Shelley and Byron" ? I cannot help thinking that the author has suffered his memory to be led astray, per- haps in the usual mode,—an accidental mistake hardened into assertion by denial and controversy ; but I feel convinced that he has been seriously de- ceived. It will not be the first time that a man remembers to have seen what did not exist.
Mr. Trelawny tells you that both Byron's feet were "clubbed," his legs "withered to the knee,"—" the form of an Apollo with the feet and legs of a sylvan Satyr." I am sure many men who knew Byron personally will perceive how very obvious is this exaggeration. It is not true that even the right foot was "twisted inwards with only the edge to the ground." The foot was considerably, smaller than the other, and may have had a tendency to turn in; but with the boot on it was decidedly plantigrade. On that foot the leather sole was thick. With regard to the other foot there could be no doubt. The left leg was like the left leg of any tolerably well-made man—better than the average. I have seen Byron move it, for some unexpected reason and when he had quite forgotten himself, with a firmness, a promptitude, and a decision, utterly impossible in a man whose leg was "withered" and feet "clubbed" "like those of a satyr." The writer, in fact, evidently speaks with very imperfect physiological know- ledge,—as where he talks of "the contraction of the muscles and the skin." i He s also wrong when he speaks of Byron's face as if it had been "lined with time and passion." Even when he grew thin, the lines around the mouth were slight. The general characteristic of his face was very great smoothness, notwithstanding the manifest influence of a peevish -temper. In another passage, Trelawny speaks of Byron sitting with his feet dabbling in the water. Byron was in fact illustrious for his swimming, and has fre- quently been seen completely undressed. He was a boxer—I have heard, a good one ; and he was a capital horseman.
There is another expression in the passage you quote from Mr. Trelawny
which is sufficient proof that he speaks from a disturbed memory. I cannot help suspecting that he has been disputing some points with persons who differ from his recollection, and has been led into a common device of sup- porting himself by positive assertions in print. He says—" Byron entered a room with a sort of run, as if he could not stop ; then planted his best leg well forward, throwing back his body to keep his balance." This is ludi- crously inaccurate. Byron could walk much better than he chose to do ; and I have seen him, when alone with him, hobble with great celerity from one part of his room to another. But he was as jealous as a beautiful woman of looking awkward "before company," and he had a habit of concealing his lameness by artificially putting on a slow lounge, which in its swing from side to side concealed at once the weakness of his gait and the inequality of his step. Instead of "running into a room," he lounged in with that inva- riable swing,' and instead of "putting his best leg foremost," he used it to steady himself upon it while he leaned against some convenient piece of fur- niture until he sat down ; for he usually leaned or sat as soon as possible, unless, as he often did, he kept on walking up and down. Many can con- firm me in this description; many who, like myself, saw Byron almost as late as Trelawny.
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