The last months of the year he spent at Newstead, vacated by the tenant, who had left the building in the tumble-down condition in which he found it.  Byron was, by his own acknowledgment, at this time, “heavily dipped,” generosities having combined with selfish extravagances to the result; he had no funds to subject the place to anything like a thorough repair, but he busied himself in arranging a few of the rooms for his own present and his mother’s after use.  About this date he writes to her, beginning in his usual style, “Dear Madam,” saying he has as yet no rooms ready for her reception, but that on his departure she shall be tenant till his return.  During this interval he was studying Pope, and carefully maturing his own Satire.  In November the dog Boatswain died in a fit of madness.  The event called forth the famous burst of misanthropic verse, ending with the couplet,—­

To mark a friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one, and here he lies;—­

and the inscription on the monument that still remains in the gardens of Newstead,—­

Near this spot,
Are deposited the remains of one
Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
And all the virtues of Man without his Vices. 
This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
If inscribed over human ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
Boatswain, a Dog,
Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803,
And died at Newstead Abbey, November 18, 1808.

On January 22, 1809, his lordship’s coming of age was celebrated with festivities, curtailed of their proportions by his limited means.  Early in spring he paid a visit to London, bringing the proof of his satire to the publisher, Cawthorne.  From St. James’s Street he writes to Mrs. Byron, on the death of Lord Falkland, who had been killed in a duel, and expresses a sympathy for his family, left in destitute circumstances, whom he proceeded to relieve with a generosity only equalled by the delicacy of the manner in which it was shown.  Referring to his own embarrassment, he proceeds in the expression of a resolve, often repeated, “Come what may, Newstead and I stand or fall together.  I have now lived on the spot—­I have fixed my heart on it; and no pressure, present or future, shall induce me to barter the last vestige of our inheritance.”  He was building false hopes on the result of the suit for the Rochdale property, which, being dragged from court to court, involved him in heavy expenses, with no satisfactory result.  He took his seat in the House of Lords on the 13th of March, and Mr. Dallas, who accompanied him to the bar of the House, has left an account of his somewhat unfortunate demeanour.