Norfolk day book. [volume] (Norfolk and Portsmouth Va.) 1868-1880, 1869-09-17
BYH MAS liz 4 BAD MAN.

| From advance sheets oil inward, lOr
October.
While we write the VIOLA is ringing
with this interIogatory and echoipg its
answers. They are negative and affirm
ative--lhe form ~, perhaps, preponder-
ating. With the iormer we fling IN
ours, and with al the etnphass we are
capable ol giving it.
Ia stating our belief that Byron was
not tad man, let it not be understood
or imagined tilab we believe him to
have been a good one Only that we
regard him to have been not much
better, aud certainly not any worse,
than the generality Of mankind. We
hesitate not to think tuat five store
clerks ont of every ten to be encounter
ed along the line of Broadway, New
York; Chestnut street, Philadelphia; or
Washington street, Boston, that pave
specially trodden by the children of the
Puritans-to say nothing OF Bond
street, London, or the Boulevards of
Portsmouth,, in their moral record,
were it only known, show spots as
black and stains as impure as ever de-
filed the escutcheon of George Gordon
Byron, the only difference being that
his have been made conspicuous to the
observation and censure of the world
while theirs escape both by the conceal
ment Of obscurlty.
For this consplcuousness Byron has
been himself somewhat to blame.
There was in his nature an instinct
that abhored subterfuge, as there was
also one of a less noble kind, more
common to all of us. Unlike most
men, he hated deception; but like too
many, he loved the sweet food of flat
terry. And who does not feel flattered
to believe in his invinoibility with the
sex /? Not you, my spruce clerk, else
why doyou set your cap so Jauntlly !?
Not you, my dandy of the Stock Ex-
change, else why that scarf so neatly
knotted, the shirt plated and the spark
ling diamond pin ? Nor you, my prim
parson, despite your demure looks; for
if you did not think of feminine admir-
alton you would not take SO much pains
about the snowy whiteness OF your
stock, the neat cut and fit OF the cas-
sock-cloth vest and single breasted coat,
that form the distinctive costume Of
your calling ? We need not follow you
into the pulpit to examine your vest
ments, the silken gown, the stole and
chasuble, with the grand topaz Or dia-
mond that occasionally sparkles upon
your pastoral finger. Your ordinary
street habiiments are enough to show
that you have in your heart all the
weaknesses ever blamed upon Byron;
the only difference that he was honest or
foolish enough to confess them, while
your vanity is but restrained by the
fear of exposure. You wish the world
to believe in your BONES fortunes; you
would boast Of them if you dare.
That Byron had these nc one can
doubt, though we can and will say, for
woman's sake, that to men of genius
and distinction they are not so common
as the world generally supposes. On
this question the world has been grossly
led astray by the boasting of little no.
torieties. Great men like Byron have
not boosted. If he has where is the
bravado to be found {? In all his writ
ings, epistolary or journalistic, we cans
not discover trace of it, But we can
discover not only traces, but proofs
absolute convincing evidence-of a
heart as manly and true and noble as
ever beat within human breast--a heart
that hated despotism in whatever form
it might show itself, whether social,
political or religious; mind that was
certainly not moral when measured by
strict Puritancal standard, but which
was as certainly not wicked when gaug-
ed by the ordinary rules that regulate
our poor fallen nature.
We have read everything Byron has
written, with almost everything that
has been written about him, and not
withstanding the supposed mystery of
his character we never studied dispo.
sition more easily understood 1t sin
deed, so like what we have ourself felt
and fancied-What we still feel and fan
cy--that to condemn George Gordon
Byron seems like condemning ones self.
If Byron was a bad man how many of
lis are good? Tax his characteristics
civious if you .will--his lasciviousness
had, at least, the merit of being manly.
How different from the sneaking vulgar
vagaries of a Dickens, the heartless
amaurettes of Bulwer, and the disgust
ing ohscenities of Palmerston or
Brougham. Compared with either of
this precious quartet the page that re.
cords Byron's life seems almost spot
less
If in this connection we cannot help
thinking, we must be excused from
speaking Of thezabominable accusation