We will try, then, to give an account of the sufferings of this man, who was driven from his own country as though he were a Barabbas, to die for the Greeks as Christ did for the Jews.
Death must be passed through before there can be transfiguration.
[CHAPTER II]
Byron's childhood—His grief at being lame—Mary Duff—The Malvern fortune-teller—How Byron and Robert Peel became acquainted—Miss Parker—Miss Chaworth—Verses on her portrait—Mrs. Musters—Lady Morgan—English Bards and Scotch Reviewers—Byron's letters to his mother—He takes his seat in the House of Lords
Byron was born on 22 January 1788, of so ancient and noble a family that it could take rank with many royal families. At his birth, the child who was predestined to become so famous had his foot dislocated and no one noticed the fact. This accident made him lame, and we shall see what an influence this infirmity had upon his life.
Four celebrated men belonging to the close of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries were lame: Maréchal Soult, M. de Talleyrand, Walter Scott and Lord Byron. A woman writer has said that "Byron would have given half his fame if he could but have been as proud of his feet as he was of his hands." We are assured that Juno's bird, the peacock, forgot his rich plumage and uttered a cry of distress every time he looked down at his feet. And Byron, king of poets, who had a good deal of the peacock about him, was not more philosophical than that king of birds.
"What a beautiful child!" some lady once remarked, when Byron was three years old and she saw him, whip in hand, playing at his nurse's knee; "but what a pity he is crippled!"