It was in this year that Lord Byron first proposed for Miss Milbanke; having been urged by several of his friends to marry, that lady was specially recommended to him for a wife.  It has been alleged, that he deeply resented her rejection of his proposal; and I doubt not, in the first instance, his vanity may have been a little piqued; but as he cherished no very animated attachment to her, and moreover, as she enjoyed no celebrity in public opinion to make the rejection important, the resentment was not, I am persuaded, either of an intense or vindictive kind.  On the contrary, he has borne testimony to the respect in which he held her character and accomplishments; and an incidental remark in his journal, “I shall be in love with her again, if I don’t take care,” is proof enough that his anger was not of a very fierce or long-lived kind.

The account ascribed to him of his introduction to Miss Milbanke, and the history of their attachment, ought not to be omitted, because it serves to illustrate, in some degree, the state of his feelings towards her, and is so probable, that I doubt not it is in the main correct:—

“The first time of my seeing Miss Milbanke was at Lady ***’s.  It was a fatal day; and I remember, that in going upstairs I stumbled, and remarked to Moore, who accompanied me, that it was a bad omen.  I ought to have taken the warning.  On entering the room, I observed a young lady more simply dressed than the rest of the assembly sitting alone upon a sofa.  I took her for a female companion, and asked if I was right in my conjecture.  ‘She is a great heiress,’ said he, in a whisper, that became lower as he proceeded, ‘you had better marry her, and repair the old place, Newstead.’

“There was something piquant, and what we term pretty, in Miss Milbanke.  Her features were small and feminine, though not regular.  She had the fairest skin imaginable.  Her figure was perfect for her height, and there was a simplicity, a retired modesty about her, which was very characteristic, and formed a happy contrast to the cold artificial formality and studied stiffness which is called fashion.  She interested me exceedingly.  I became daily more attached to her, and it ended in my making her a proposal, that was rejected.  Her refusal was couched in terms which could not offend me.  I was, besides, persuaded, that in declining my offer, she was governed by the influence of her mother; and was the more confirmed in my opinion, by her reviving our correspondence herself twelve months after.  The tenour of her letter was, that, although she could not love me, she desired my friendship.  Friendship is a dangerous word for young ladies; it is love full-fledged, and waiting for a fine day to fly.”