The Sun.
London, England, 1828-01-03 00:00:00

if from fwo rgrsons er a remarkable d trecepareca
of character—Lord Byron and Mr. Wordsworth. Of Mr.
Wordsworth I speak hereafter. Lord Byron, I thought,
took a pleasure in iti as contrasted with the splendour cf:
Lis great house. He had too much reason to do Ft), flie
donicatie troubles were then' about to become public. His
appearance et that time was fbe finest 1 ever saw it, a
great heal finer than it was aNewards, when he was
abroad. lie 'vas fatter than befora4 his marriage, but
only 1.1.5 t enough 30 to complete the mar.:kinees of hie per-
eon ; and the turn of his bead and con:ltem:7l(x had a spi-
rit and elevatiot! in it, which, though not uniaixed with
d'!stattiet, gave him altoaether a nobler look that; I ever
t knew hi
framers, and which he Nedra
a_a! o! have bafere or since.
IN,4u'atstunbeladckc,lolsaeit
of white
th e Ilia dress,
body, completed the succinct-
!fess and gentlemanlineet ofhis appearance. I retnern-
bet One day, as he stocal looking out
ie
mofostthliekewhiinna-
dow, he restaribled, in a lively m'anner, the portrait of him
by Phillips, by far the best that has ppeared—l mean the
best of him at his best time of life, anyfl
in features as well as expression. He sat one morning so
long, that Lady Byron seut up twice to let I,Ain know she
was waiting. Lady Byron used to go on in Oie carriage
to Henderson's nursery-ground to get flowers. I .li° not
the houour of knowing her, nor ever saw her but once,
when I caught a glimpse of her at the door. I tlion:ht
she had a pretty earnest look, with her " pippin" face--
an epithet by which she playfully designated herself.
The first visit I paid Lord Byron was just after their
separation. The rablic, who took part with the lady, as
they ought to do (wometi its their relations with the other
de:: being under the most unhandsome disadvantages), had,
tieverthetsai no idea of the trouble which her husliared was
suffering at trial tiaete. lle was very ill; his face jaun-
diced with bile; the atroinicerneut of his satiety by Lady
Byron had disconcerted htstr extremely, and wale, I believer
utterly unhooked for ; then the ;';eurnals and their attacke
upon him, were felt severely ; and, to crown all, he had
an eleaftion in his house. I was struck with the real trouble,
14 manifested, compared with what the public thought of
it. The adherence of his and friends was also touching.
saw Mr. Hobhouse and 14%4'c:tape Davies (college friends of
his) almost every time I called. /Ir. Rogers was regular
in his daily visits ; and Lord "Tolland, he vaid, was very
kind to hits,- Finally, lie teak the blame of the Quarrel to
himself ; and he enlisted my self-Jove so far en the side of
Lady Byron, as to tell tee that she liked my poem, and had
compared his temper to that of Giovanni, my here:Mee
consort. In all this 1 beteld only a generous nature, sub-
ject perhaps to ebullitiens of ill-temper, heat candid, sena,.
tive, extremely to be pitied, and if a Wortnn 'lowa or
was permitted by others, to love lUrn, extremely to be loved.
What made ate conic the more warmly to this eene:uston,
was a letter Which he showed me, written by Lady-4'llton
after her departate Emig the house, and when she wag as
her way to the relations who persuaded her not to return:
It was signed with the epithet above-mentioned ; and was
written in a spirit of good humour, and even loudness,
which, though containing nothing but what a wife ought
to write, and is the better for writing, was, I thought,
too good to show. But the case was extreme ; and the
compliment to me, in showing it, appeared tic greater.—
I was not aware at that time, that with a singular inconti-
nence, towards which it was lucky for a great many people
that his friends were as singularly considerate, his Lordship
was in the habit of making a confidant of ciesy body he
came nigh.'

We add Mr. Hunt's general summing up of
Lordship's habits and character :
He had a delicate svhite hand, of which he was proud,
and he attracted attention to it by rings. He thought gr
hand of this description almost the only mark remaining:
now-a-days of a gentleman ; which it certainly is not, nos
of a lady either ; though a coatee one implies handiwork.
He often appeared holding a handkerchief, ujeon which his
jewelled fingers lay imbedded, as in a picture. He was as
fond of fine linen as a Quaker ; and had the remnant tre.
his hair oiled and trimmed with all the anxiety of a Sar-
danapalus. The visible character to which this effemi-
nacy gave rise appears to have indicated itself as early as
hie travels in the Levant, where the Grand Seignior is said
to have taken him for a woman in disguise. But he had
tastes of a more masculine description. He was fond of'
swimming to the last, and used to push out to a good dis-
tance in the Gulf of Genoa. He was also, as 1 have
be-
fore mentioned, a good horseman ; and be liked to have a
great dog or two about him, which is not a habit observ-
able in timid men. Yet I doubt greatly whether he was
a man of courage. I suspect that personal anxiety, coming
upon a constitution unwisely treated, had no small band
in hastening his death in Greece. The story of his bold
behaviour at sea, in a voyage to Sicily, and of Mr. Shel-
ley's timidity, is just reversing what. I conceive would base
been the real state of the matter, had the voyage taken
place. The account is an impudent fiction. Neverthe-
less, he volunteered voyages by sea when he might have
eschewed them ; and yet the same man never got into a
coach without being afraid. In short, he was the contra.
distinction his father and mother had made him. To lump
together some more of his personal habits, in the style of
old Aubrey, he spelt affectedly, swore somewhat, had the
Northumbrian burr in his speech, did not like to see
women eat, and would merrily say, that he had another
reason for not liking to dine with them ; which was, that
they always had the wings of the chicken.
For the rest—