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gratify. A poet speaks of feelings, the sorrows of ugly children.
sorrows, and experience; and in
exact proportion to his popularity
will be the desire to learn how much
of these were truly his own. Those
are the very Canutes of fame, who
would say to the tide of popular in-
terest, Thus far shalt thou go, and
no farther. As matter for deep re-
flection, as means of solving the
great problem of human nature,
both as warning and as encourage-
ment, all relating to a man like By-
ron is public property. Praise has
its penalty; and neither he nor
those connected with him have a
right to claim that domestic privacy,
from which themselves first and
voluntarily stept forth. To drag
those from retirement, which they
have in no instance voluntarily
quitted, is as reprehensible as it is
indelicate; but a man who courts
fame, which is built on opinion,
must expect to be canvassed by the
tribunal to which he appeals. Se-
condly, as to Moore's likeness be-
ing too favorable: we must say, that
the conclusions we draw from Galt's
account, taken by a stricter hand,
and in darker colors, have yet left
on our minds an impression decid-
edly in Byron's favor. His child-
hood was peculiarly unfortunate-
unfortunate in wanting that whole-
some restraint which is the great
principle both in laws and educa-
tion. At this period, too, was
doubtless received the impression
of shame and horror at his personal
deformity. Mr. Galt mentions that
the neighbors used to call him "Mrs.
Byron's crookit devil.” He him-
self records the agony he felt on
hearing his mother tauntingly al-
lude to it. Now whether we blame,
regret, or regard it as of no conse-
quence, we all must admit, that the
notice given to children, and in
which they all delight, is universally
attracted by their beauty: "bless
your pretty face!" is as common a
phrase in the lower, as "what a
little angel!" is in the upper ranks.
We have often thought, that a most
pathetic essay might be written on

child has quick perception, but no
discrimination,-a faculty only to
be acquired by the comparisons
made by experience; and the idea
of his defect being repulsive, once
suggested, this idea would naturally
be seized on by his susceptible tem-
per, to account for whatever he
might encounter of neglect or mor-
tification; and on the importance
and indelibility of childish impres-
sions no one need enlarge. Of his
school days we shall quote one
anecdote, and the heroism of the
conduct it records may speak for
itself.

**

"While Lord Byron and Mr. Peel were at Harrow together, a tyrant a few years older, whose name was ******, claimed a right to fag little Peel, which claim (whether rightly or wrongly, I know not) Peel resisted. His resistance, however, was in vain : * not only subdued him, but determined to punish the refractory slave; and proceeded forthwith to put this determination in practice by inflicting a kind of bastinado on the inner fleshy side of the boy's arm, which during the operation, was twisted round with some degree of technical skill, to render the pain more acute. While the stripes were succeeding each other, and poor Peel writhing under them, Byron saw and felt for the misery of his friend, and although he knew that he was not strong enough to fight ****** with any hope of success, and that it was dangerous even to approach him, he advanced to the scene of action, and with a blush of rage, tears in his eyes, and a voice trembling between terror and indignation, asked very humbly if ****** 'would be pleased to tell him how many stripes he meant to inflict ?' Why,' returned the executioner, you little rascal, what is that to you?' Because, if you please,' said Byron, holding out his arm, 'I would take half.” ”

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His marriage was the rock on which his whole after-life wrecked:

to use Lockhart's expressive words, "If there be one curse which comes to earth direct as the crow flies, with all the steam of hell hot about it, it is an ill-assorted marriage." It seems to us a most affected delicacy, which in such a case would abstain from seeking grounds whereon to form an opinon, or expressing it when formed. Lord Byron was all his life before the public eye; and those who shared his celebrity, must share it whether as matter of vanity or annoyance. We think there is no sort of reproach to be thrown on Lady Byron's actual conduct; but the explanation of the whole is, that she had no love for her husband, none of that kindly and feminine affection which makes all the excellence it finds, and softens away the very faults it discovers. The fact that, on such slight grounds as those of late, she has not hesitated to throw the most odious imputations on the dead, shows at least how little of attachment or forgiveness enters into a temper whose seeming at least is cold and unforgiving. Mutual indulgence is the only safety of domestic content such a wife might be perfectly irreproachable; but there are few men who would not be tempted to exclaim, Thank Heaven she is not mine! Beyond the chilling vanity of conquest, she seems to have neither appreciated nor admired his genius, and certainly had no love for himself but the last summing up of conclusions is in the words of his servant Fletcher, "that her ladyship was the only woman who could not manage him."

We have marked for quotation a series of miscellaneous extracts, as specimens of the spirit of the work, to which we now proceed.

His Mother's Death." Notwithstanding her violent temper and other unseemly conduct, her affection for him had been so fond and dear, that he undoubtedly returned it with unaffected sincerity; and from many casual and incidental expressions which I have heard him

employ concerning her, I am persuaded that his filial love was not at any time even of an ordinary kind. During her life he might feel uneasy respecting her, apprehensive on account of her ungovernable passions and indiscretions; but the manner in which he lamented her death clearly proves that the integrity of his affection had never been impaired. On the night after his arrival at the Abbey, the waitingwoman of Mrs. Byron, in passing the door of the room where the corpse lay, heard the sound of some one sighing heavily within, and on entering found his lordship sitting in the dark beside the bed. She remonstrated with him for so giving way to grief; when he burst into tears, and exclaimed, 'I had but one friend in the world, and she is gone.' Of the fervency of his sorrow I do therefore think there can be no doubt; the very endeavor which he made to conceal it by indifference was a proof of its depth and anguish, though he hazarded the strictures of the world by the indecorum of his conduct on the occasion of the funeral. Having declined to follow the remains himself, he stood looking from the halldoor at the procession, till the whole had moved away; and then, turning to one of the servants, the only person left, he desired him to fetch the sparring gloves, and proceeded with him to his usual exercise. But the scene was impressive, and spoke eloquently of a grieved heart ;-he' sparred in silence all the time, and the servant thought that he hit harder than was his habit: at last he suddenly flung away the gloves, and retired to his own room. ""

Speaking of his peculiar temperament, Mr. Galt observes :

"Lord Byron possessed that sort of irrepressible predilections-was so much the agent of impulses, that he could not keep long in unison with the world, or in harmony with his friends. Without malice, or the instigation of any ill spirit, he was continually provoking malignity and

revenge. His verses on the Princess Charlotte weeping, and his other merciless satire on her father, begot him no friends, and armed the hatred of his enemies. There was, indeed, something like ingratitude in the attack on the regentfor his royal highness had been particularly civil; had intimated a wish to have him introduced to him; and Byron, fond of the distinction, spoke of it with a sense of gratification. These instances, as well as others, of gratuitous spleen, only justified the misrepresentations which had been insinuated against himself; and what was humor in his nature, was ascribed to vice in his principles. Before the year was at an end, his popularity was evidently beginning to wane of this he was conscious himself, and braved the frequent attacks on his character and genius with an affectation of indifference, under which those who had at all observed the singular associations of his recollections and ideas, must have discerned the symptoms of a strange disease. He was tainted with an Herodian malady of the mind; his thoughts were often hateful to himself; but there was an ecstacy in the conception, as if delight could be mingled with horror. I think, however, he struggled to master the fatality, and that his resolution to marry was dictated by an honorable desire to give hostages to society against the wild wilfulness of his imagination."

His Grecian expedition :"Had Lord Byron never been in Greece, he was undoubtedly one of those men whom the resurrection of her spirit was likeliest to interest; but he was not also one fitted to do her cause much service. His innate indolence, his sedentary habits, and that all-engrossing consideration for himself, which in every situation marred his best impulses, were shackles upon the practice of the stern bravery in himself which he has so well expressed in his works. It was expected when he sailed for Greece-nor was the ex

pectation unreasonable with those who believe imagination and passion to be of the same element-that the enthusiasm which flamed so highly in his verse was the spirit of action, and would prompt him to undertake some great enterprise. But he was only an artist; he could describe bold adventures and represent high feeling, as other gifted individuals give eloquence to canvass, and activity to marble; but he did not possess the wisdom necessary for the instruction of councils. I do, therefore, venture to say, that in embarking for Greece he was not entirely influenced by such exoterical motives as the love of glory or the aspirations of heroism. His laurels had for some time ceased to flourish, the sear and yellow, the mildew and decay, had fallen upon them; and he was aware that the bright round of his fame was ovaling from the full, and showing the dim rough edge of waning."

On his religion :

"Lord Byron had but loose feelings in religion-scarcely any. His sensibility and a slight constitutional leaning towards superstition and omens, showed that the sense of devotion was, however, alive and awake within him ; but with him religion was a sentiment, and the convictions of the understanding had nothing whatever to do with his creed. That he was deeply embued with the essence of natural pietythat he often felt the power and being of a God thrilling in all his frame and glowing in his bosom-I declare my thorough persuasion; and that he believed in some of the tenets and in the philosophy of Christianity, as they influence the spirit and conduct of men, I am as little disposed to doubt; especially if those portions of his works which only tend towards the subject, and which bear the impression of fervor and earnestness, may be admitted as evidence.

But he was not a member of any particular church, and, without a reconstruction of his mind and temperament, I venture to

say he could not have become such; yet be discovered-here and there

not in consequence, as too many have represented, of any predilection, either of feeling or principle, against Christianity-but entirely owing to an organic peculiarity of mind. He reasoned on every topic by instinct, rather than by induction or any progress of logic; and could never be so convinced of the truth or falsehood of an abstract proposition, as to feel it affect the current of his actions. He may have assented to arguments, without being sensible of their truth; merely because they were not objectionable to his feelings at the time. And, in the same manner, he may have disputed even fair inferences, from admitted premises, if the state of his feelings happened to be indisposed to the subject. I am persuaded, nevertheless, that to class him among absolute infidels were to do injustice to his memory, and that he has suffered uncharitably in the opinion of the rigidly righteous,' who, because he had not attached himself to any particular sect or congregation, assumed that he was an adversary to religion. To claim for him any credit as a pious man, would be absurd; but to suppose he had not as deep an interest as other men 'in his soul's health' and welfare, was to impute to him a nature which cannot exist. Being altogether a creature of impulses, he certainly could not be ever employed in doxologies, or engaged in the logomachy of churchmen; but he had the sentiment which at a tamer age might have made him more ecclesiastical. There was as much truth as joke in the expression, when he wrote,

'I am myself a moderate Presbyterian."" We should do scant justice to Mr. Galt were we not to quote a few passages more especially his own. Each of the ensuing little extracts has struck us as possessing either some original thought or some beauty of expression.

"A few traces of terraces may

the chump of a column, and niches for receiving votive offerings, are numerous among the cliffs; but it is a lone and dismal place: Desolation sits with Silence, and Ruin there is so decayed as to be almost Oblivion.

*

*

"The genii that preside over famous places have less influence on the imagination than on the memory. The pleasures enjoyed on the spot spring from the reminiscences of reading; and the subsequent enjoyment derived from having visited celebrated scenes, comes again from the remembrance of objects seen there, and the associations connected with them.

**

*

I passed through the ruins of a considerable Turkish town, containing four or five mosques, one of them a handsome building still entire. About twenty houses or so might be described as tenantable, but only a place of sepulchres could be more awful. It had been depopulated by the plague—all was silent, and the streets were matted with thick grass. In passing through an open space, which reminded me of a market-place, I heard the cuckoo with an indescribable sensation of pleasure mingled with solemnity. The sudden presence of a raven at a bridal banquet could scarcely have been a greater phan

tasma.

*

*

*

*

"What a strange thing is glory! Three hundred years ago, all Christendom rang with the battle of Lepanto, and yet it is already probable that it will only be interesting to posterity as an incident in the life of one of the private soldiers engaged in it. This is certainly no very mournful reflection to one who is of opinion that there is no permanent fame but that which is obtained by adding to the comforts and pleasures of mankind: Military transactions, after their immediate effects cease to be felt, are little productive of such a result. Not that I value military virtues the less by being of this opinion; on the contrary, I am

the more convinced of their excel- of beauty and objectless enthusiasm lence. Burke has unguardedly of love. The sentiment itself is unsaid, that vice loses half its maligni- questionably in the highest mood of ty by losing its grossness; but pub- the intellectual sense of beauty; the lic virtue ceases to be useful when simile is, however, anything but it sickens at the calamities of neces- such an image as the beauty of wosary war. The moment that na- man would suggest. It is only the tions become confident of security, remembrance of some impression or they give way to corruption. The imagination of the loveliness of a evils and dangers of war seem as twilight applied to an object that requisite for the preservation of awakened the same abstract general public morals as the laws them- idea of beauty. The fancy which selves; at least it is the melancholy could conceive in its passion the moral of history, that when nations charms of a female to be like the resolve to be peaceful with respect glow of the evening, or the general to their neighbors, they begin to be effect of the midnight stars, must vicious with respect to themselves. have been enamored of some beautiful abstraction, rather than aught of flesh and blood. Poets and lovers have compared the complexion of their mistresses to the hues of the morning or of the evening, and their eyes to the dew-drops and the stars; but it has no place in the feelings of man to think of female charms in the sense of admiration which the beauties of the morning or the evening awaken. It is to make the simile the principal."

*

*

*

*

"It is singular, and I am not aware that it has been before noticed, that, with all his tender and impassioned apostrophes to beauty and love, Byron has in no instance, not even in the freest passages of Don Juan, associated either the one or the other with sensual images. The extravagance of Shakspeare's Juliet, when she speaks of Romeo being cut after death into stars, that all the world may be in love with night, is flame and ecstacy compared to the icy metaphysical glitter of Byron's amorous allusions. verses beginning with

The

She walks in beauty like the light Of eastern climes and starry skies,' is a perfect example of what I have conceived of his bodiless admiration

We recommend this volume to those who desire information, as well as to those who require amusement. It appears to us as impartial a judgment as it is possible for one man to form of another; and as a composition, must elevate the already high literary character of Mr. Galt.

LITERARY BEAUTIES OF THE SCRIPTURES.

THE declarations of Scripture inspire the most exalted sensations we are capable of, and fill the soul with pleasing wonder and astonishment. We need only examine them as they present to us the Supreme Being, in order to be convinced of this. Are we terrified at the giant strides of Homer's Neptune, "under which the mountains trembled ; " or at the nod of his Jupiter, "by which the whole heavens were shaken ?" With what superior awe and dignity does Jehovah rise upon us, either

17 ATHENEUM, VOL. 5, 3d series.

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when first introduced to us in the
wonderful works of creation, say-
ing, "Let there be light and there
was light; or when he bowed the
heavens and came down to Mount
Sinai, "and it quaked greatly, and
the smoke thereof ascended as the
smoke of a furnace!" Pindar's
Jove "sits enthroned on clouds;"
but does he "make his pavilion
round about him with dark waters,
and thick clouds of the sky?". Is
he "clothed with light as with a
garment?
"" Hath "he stretched

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