OF LORD BYRON. 133 and his expressions of feeling, to some imaginary conception of himself, which he secretly admires, and fancies others will admire. The popularity, therefore, of such writings, is not lasting. In a little time, men find that they have been deceived, and cheated out of their sympathy and admiration. The author betrays himself in his own writings; the facts of his life, as they are more known and attended to, are perceived to be inconsistent with his exhibition of himself; and some Grimm, some Marmontel, or some Medwin, some enemy or some friend, springs up to give the literal prose story of what had appeared only in poetical and picturesque guise. Thus the true character of the individual gradually displaces his theatrical personation of himself. In the age after that in which it is written, his book, like the Confessions of Rousseau, ceases to be an object of feeling and enthusiasm. Its vitality is gone, and it remains only as a subject of moral analysis to the student of human nature. The life and writings of Byron corresponded less with each other, than those of Rosseau; and in the poetry of the former, there are grosser incongruities, than in the prose of the latter. Byron was continually calling upon men in the most moving language, to inform them, that he did not wish for their notice or concern; he was pouring out unremitted wailings, and avowing, at the same time, that he had learnt, with stern resolution, to suffer in solitude and silence; he was professing his dislike and contempt of the world in constant efforts to secure its admiration and favour. That he truly suffered, from a gloomy temperament, and from the natural effects of his vices, there can be no doubt. But this is vulgar misery, very different from that 66 sublime sadness, breathed from the mysteries of our mortal existence,"* with which his more enthusiastic admirers thought him to be possessed. As he lived longer, his feelings became more callous, and he acquired more of selfish recklessness. Every one now knows, that Lord Byron, as a man, was a different personage from the Lord Byron of his own poetry. The accounts of his life and his conversations, the levity of his prose writings, and the last employment of his days, his Don Juan, have left few believers in his sublime and mysterious melancholy. Lord Byron's course of life, while on the continent, after leaving England, answered to * Edinburgh Review, vol. 30. p. 98. Am. Ed. that which he before led. His last mistress was a married woman, the daughter of an Italian count, whose family, with an insensibility to infamy, not, we hope, to be found out of Italy, did not feel the connexion as disgraceful. The character of the few companions with whom he principally associated, is well known. He produced various works, some of which cannot be spoken of with too severe reprobation; while others had not striking qualities of any kind, sufficient to attract much notice. He perceived that his fame was sinking under him, that he was beginning to be regarded with but little of poetical enthusiasm, and that he had outraged too far the moral sentiments of mankind. He felt this state of things with abundant irritability, which he expressed in verses as spirited as the following, the only extract we shall give from his Don Juan. Dogs or men! (for I flatter you in saying As little as the moon stops for the baying Of wolves, will the bright muse withdraw one ray From out her skies-then howl your idle wrath! While she still silvers o'er your gloomy path. Under such circumstances, weary of life, disgusted with his pursuits, sensible that he had wantonly perverted his extraordinary powers, and become an object of universal disapprobation; yet desirous, as ever, of being distinguished by the admiration of the world, he was led to change the scene, and undertake his expedition to Greece. The romance of his admirers was revived |