The Sun.
London, England, 1830-01-18 00:00:00

MOORE'S LIFE OP BYRON.

We give the following extracts from this
work—the exceedingly interesting nature of
which will form sufficient apology for their length,
and we shall speak more in detail respecting it

to-morrow :
" On my rejoining him in town this spring (1F.13),
I found the enthusiasm about his writings and him-
self, which I had left so prevalent, both in the world
of literature and of society, grown if any thing still
more general and intense. In the immediate circle,
perhaps, around him, familiarity of intercourse might
have begun to produce its usual disenchanting
effects. His own liveliness and conversation, on a
more intimate acquaintance, would not be long in
dispelling that charm of poetic sadness, which to
the eyes of distant observers hung about him ; while
the romantic notions, connected by some of his fair
readers with their past and nameless lovers, alluded
to in his Poems, ran some risk of abatement from
too near an acquaintance with the supposed objects
of his fancy and fondness at present. A poet's mis-
tress should remain, if possible, as imaginary a being
to others as, in most of the attributes he clothes her
with, she has been to himself; the reality, however
fair, being always sure to fall short of the picture
which a too lavish fancy has drawn of it. Could
we call up in array before us all the beauties which
the love of Poets has immortalised, from the high-
born dame to. the plebeian damsel—from the Lauras
and Sacharissas down to the Chloes and Jeannies—
we should, it is to be feared, sadly unpeople our
imaginations of many a bright tenant that poesy has
lodged there, and find, in more than one instance,
our admiration of the faith and fancy of the wor-
shipper increased by our discovery of the worthless-
ness of the idol.
" But whatever of its first romantic impression
the personal character of the Poet may, from such
causes, have lost in the circle he most frequented,
this disappointment of the imagination was far more
than compensated by the frank, social, and engaging
qualities, both of disposition arid manner, which, on
a nearer intercourse, he disclosed, as well as by that
entire absence of any literary assumption or pedan-
try, which entitled him fully to the praise bestowed
by Sprat upon Cowley, that few could ' ever dis-
cover he was a great Poet by his discourse.' While
thus by his intimates, and those who had got, as it
were, behind the scenes of his fame, he was seen in
his true colours, as well of weakness as of amiable-
ness—on strangers, and such as were out of this
immediate circle, the spell of his poetical character
still continued to operate; arid the fierce gloom and
sternness of his imaginary personages were, by the
greater number of them, supposed to belong, not
only as regarded mind, but manners, to himself. So
prevalent and persevering has been this notion, that
in some disquisitions on his character, published
since his death, and containing otherwise many just
and striking views, we find in the professed portrait
drawn of him such features as the following :-
4 Lord Byron had a stern, direct, severe mind; a
sarcastic, disdainful, gloomy temper. He had no
light sympathy with heartless cheerfulness ; upon
the surface were soreness, discontent, displeasure,
ill-will. Beneath all this weight of clouds and dark-
ness.' * &c.
" Of the sort of double aspect which he thus
presented, as viewed by the world arid his friends,
he was himself fully aware ; and it not only amused
him, but, as a proof of the versatility of his powers,
flattered his pride. He was, indeed, as I have al-
ready remarked, by no mean.; insensible or inatten-
tive to the effect he produced personally on society;
and though the brilliant station he had attained,
since the commencement of my acquaintance with
him, made not the slightest alteration in the unaffect-
edness of his private intercourse, I could perceive, I
thought, with reference to the external world, some
slight changes in his conduct, which seemed indica-
tive of the effects of his celebrity upon him. Among
other circumstances, I observed, that whether from
shyness of the general gaze, or from a notion like
Livy's, that men of eminence should not too much
familiarise the public to their persons t, he avoided
spewing himself in the mornings, and in crowded
places, much more than was his custom when we
first became acquainted. The preceding year, be-
fore his name had grown so rife and celebrated,'
we had gone together to the Exhibition at Somerset-
house, and other such places 4 and the true reason,
no doubt, of his present reserve in abstaining from
all such miscellaneous haunts, was the sensitiveness.
so often referred to, on the subject of his lameness--
a feeling which the curiosity of the public eye now
attracted to this infirmity by his fame could riot fail,
he knew, to put rather painfully to the proof.
" At this time (1813) Lord Byron commenced a
Journal, or Diary, from the pages of which I have
already selected a few extracts, and of which I shall
now lay as much more as is producible before the
reader. Employed chiefly—as such a record from
its nature must be—about persons still living and
occurrences still recent, it would be impossible of
course to submit it to the public eye, without the
omission of some portion of its contents; and un-
luckily, too, of that very portion which, from its re-
ference to the secret pursuits and feelings of the
writer, would gratify the most lively and piquant
curiosity of the reader. Enough, however, will, I
trust, still remain, even after all this necessary win-
nowing, to enlarge still further the view we have
here opened into the interior of the poet's life and
habits, and to indulge harmlessly that task, as gene-
ral as it is natural, which leads us to contemplate
with pleasure a great mind in its undress, and to
rejoice in the discovery so consoling to human pride,
that even the mightiest, in their moments of ease
and weakness, resemble ourselves.
" Journal begun Nov. 14, 1813.
" If this had been begun ten years ago, and
faithfully kept Heigh° I There are too many
things I wish never to have remembered, as it is.
Well—l have had my share of what are called the
pleasures of this life, and have seen more of the
European and Asiatic world than I have made a
good use of. They say' virtue is its own reward'
—it certainly should be paid well for its trouble.—
At five and twenty, when the better part of life is
over, one should be something ; and what am I ?--
Nothing but five and twenty, and the odd months.
What have I seen ? The same men all over the
world—aye, and women too. Give me a Mugu&
man, who never asks questions, and a she of the
same race, who saves one the trouble of putting
them. But for this same plague—yellow fever,
and Newstead delay, I should have been by this
time a second time close to the Euxine. If I can
overcome the last, I don't so much mind you: pes-
tilence; and at any rate the spring will see me
there—provided I neither marry myself, nor un-
marry any one else in the interval. I wish one was
• . . . I don't know what I write. It is odd
I never set myself seriously to wishing without at-
taining it—and repenting. I begin to believe with
the good old Magi, that one should only pray for the
nation, and not for the individual; but on my prin-
ciple this would not be very patriotic.
" No more reflections. Let me see—last night
I finished Zuleika, my second Turkish Tale. I
believe the composition of it kept me alive—for it
was written to drive my thoughts from the recol-
lection of
'Dear sacred name, rest ever unrevealed.'
At least even here my hand would tremble to write
it. This afternoon I have burnt the, scenes of my
commenced Comedy. I have some idea of expire-
* Letters On the character and poetical genius of Lord
Byron, by Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart.
t Continuos aspectus minus verendos magnos hominea
facit.'
t ' The only peculiarity that struck me on these occa-
sions, was the uneasy restlessness which be seemed to feel
in wearing a hat—an article of dress which, from his con-
stant use of a carriage while in England, he was almost
wholly unaccustomed to, and which after that year I do
not remember to have ever seen upon him again. Abroad
he always wore a kind of foraging cap.'l