afford a useful and moral lesson. If, then, the events of the existence of one of the humblest and most obscure of mankind are not beneath the attention of the historian, what should be the effect produced by the records of the impulses of a mind which delighted and agitated the world? The pen of history had never to record a higher subject than the one to whose memory we are now endeavouring to pay a faint tribute.

Lord Byron was, unquestionably, in our opinion, the first man of the period he flourished in; and it is a thing worthy of being proud of, in our estimation, of living in the same age as owned his existence.

The events of his life afford a grand lesson to mankind. They tell of a man endowed munificently both by nature and fortune-gifted with powers of imagination, and such a variety of talents, that seldom if ever were united in one individual. With these commanding natural distinctions, that secured him the awe and admiration of the rest of mankind—with a long train of ancestors, which alone was sufficient to inspire his bosom with a glow of superiority above the majority of his fellow-mortals with an honourable title and splendid fortune; wanting, in short, nothing that nature or fortune could bestow, he became one of the most unhappy of men, dragging on an existence as a misery, which seemed imbued with every blessing. The moral must be obvious, that however high and commanding the energies of a soul may be, if they are misdirected, instead of heaping on its owner happiness, and the veneration and admiration of the world, they will infallibly cause him the most poignant misery, and the pity and contempt of those who would have been first to applaud. Unaccompanied with a contented mind-a conscience free from the remembrance of errors-all the gifts of nature and fortune are without a zest, and only add poignancy to their possessor's misery. That such was the consequence of Lord Byron's well-known antipathy to the world, we would be unwilling to affirm; he had enemies and calumniators enough wheu living; but now his spirit has fled, his errors should be blotted out from our recollections, for they are, unquestionably, redeemed by many noble traits. Whatever might have been the shades that cast a gloom over his character, we believe they sprung more from an erroneous judgment, than a

hardened or depraved heart. It is the grand characteristic of history, that when displaying the lights, she does not let the shades sink into that obscurity our benevolence of feeling would desire. Those who have been most eminent for their talents or virtues, rumour has always been most busily employed in searching for defects. It may be not partial, therefore, to take it for granted, that the many malicious inventions that have existed regarding the private life of this great man, had no other source than that of the mind of their evil inventors; for what object of real good could they have (admitting they were true) in betraying confidence, or giving pangs to a bosom that never harboured a thought of doing them an injustice? Is there one who reads these reflections that can place his hand upon his heart, and say, that there does not dwell within it the knowledge of an action or crime which he would wish to carry with him to the grave unknown and undiscovered? Let him do so, and he will here instantly perceive the cruelty and injustice of bringing forward the errors of a man heretofore rich in the world's opinion. For whose private life has ever been bared so nakedly to the public view; whose has been viewed with so microscopic an eye, as the subject of this memoir? Against whom has ever slander exerted her influence more, or public opinion ever been so much divided? Who, after all the bitterness of the envy of his contemporaries, the rancour of the malice of his foes, has been borne to the grave so universally lamented, amidst the tears and sorrow of strangers to his fame, and only acquainted with them by the virtues he exercised to their benefit.

Of a family so distinguished in the annals of this country, we will not enter into genealogical details. His ancestors are traced back to the reign of William the Conqueror, and have been distinguished during that and less remote periods, for their valorous renown. Two fell at Cressy, another fought at Bosworth, under the banners of the Earl of Richmond, with the glorious determination of freeing his country from the shackles of the tyrant Richard. The first Lord Byron obtained his title from Charles the Second, whose cause, with six of his brothers, he supported most warmly.

The grandson of this nobleman was the celebrated Admiral Byron, who is distinguished in our naval history with

so exquisitely depicted in his poetry, seem to have taken up their abode in his bosom, and to be the ruling guide of his actions. His courting the obscurity of sorrow, so far from arguing a misanthropy of feeling, ought to be construed into the most amiable sentiment. For he who shuns the applause of the world, seeks solitude for the purpose of following the dictates of those religious and benevolent feelings, which he could not in the busy scenes of life, gives the most convincing proof of the philantrophy of his nature, and the purity of his heart. Speaking of his religious tenets, his biographer relates of him the following anecdote.

"I (Lord Byron) am always getting new correspondents. Here are three letters just arrived from strangers, all of them. One is from a French woman, who has been writing to me, off and on, for the last three years. She is not only a bluebottle, but a poetess, I suspect. Her object in addressing me now, she says, is to get me to write on the loss of a slave-ship, the particulars of which she details. The second epistle is short, and in a hand I know very well; it is anonymous too. Hear what she says, I cannot longer exist without acknowledging the tumultuous and agonizing delight with which my soul burns at the glowing beauties of yours. A third is of a very different character from the last; it is from a Mr. Sheppard, enclosing a a prayer made for my welfare by his wife a few days before her death.' The letter states that he has had the misfortune to lose this amiable woman, who had seen me at Ramsgate, many years ago, rambling among the cliffs; that she had been impressed with a sense of my irreligion from the tenor of my works, and had often prayed fervently for my conversion, particularly in her last moments. The prayer is beautifully written. I like devotion in women. She must have been a divine creature. I pity the man who has lost her! I shall write to him by return of the courier, to condole with him, and tell him that Mrs. S need not have entertained any concern for my spiritual affairs, for that no man is more of a Christian than I am, whatever my writings may have led her and others to suspect."

With respect to his pleasures, it is presumptuous for another individual to examine into their propriety. It is not authenticated that he set any evil example, or did injury to any one. His conscience did not permit him to shrink from approaching the most awful of tribunals; and why should therefore his errors be judged by those who are blind to his virtues? The laws of our country require the most

convincing evidence, where the lives or property of individuals are at stake, before they will pass sentence. Therefore it is both absurd and cruel, in the highest degree, to suffer his reputation, which is always dearer to a man than life or property, to be condemned on the most fragile and unsatisfactory proof.

From Mytilene, his Lordship proceeded to Cos, another small island in the Archipelago. Here he was attacked by a painful disorder, from which he recovered, principally, by the attention of his fair companion. It was at Athens that the principal part relating to Greece in Childe Harold, was written. The scenes of ages remote were here visible, and imbued his mind with a deep and hallowed melancholy. His habits here were eccentric as ever, he never quitted his residence till sun-set, nor returned till midnight. He displayed here his skill as an artist, in many sketches that he made of the ruins that abounded near the sacred spot. He has expressed, on several occasions, great indignation at the sacrilegious robberies of antiquarians, and others, at the spoliation and removal of many of the Grecian antiquities.

In 1812, appeared the first Cantos of Childe Harold, which more than fulfilled the brilliant anticipations of his friends, and the envious fears of his enemies, and decidedly ranked the noble author as the first poet of the day. Of a poem which has so frequently passed the ordeal of criticism, whose beauties have been so deeply appreciated, and whose faults have been so publicly condemned; any farther observation from us, than a concurrence with the opinion of the rest of mankind, we feel would be unnecessary.

The Giaour, the Bride of Abydos, the Corsair, and Lara, followed in rapid succession, and so far from diminishing his reputation, kept the high seat he had obtained among our living authors, still more securely. Of those productions, at this time of day, any farther notice would be superfluous. They are in the hands of every person, from the peer to the mechanic; and we firmly believe, that ninetynine out of a hundred of the reading world, are fully aware of their merits. Of the Giaour, we find in "Conversations" the following anecdote of its origin:

"One of the principal incidents in The Giaour, is derived from a real occurrence, and one too in which I myself was nearly and deeply interested; but an unwillingness to have it considered a traveller's tale, made me suppress the fact of its genuineness. The Marquis of Sligo, who knew the particulars of the story, re

sifying their raven predictions, and determined to shew them, croak as they would, that it was not the last time they should hear from me. I set to work immediately and in good earnest, and produced in a year the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.' I had good grounds to believe that Jeffery (though perhaps really responsible for whatever appears in the Edinburgh, as Gifford is for the Quarterly, as Editor) was not the author of that article-was not guilty of it. He disowned it, and though he would not give up the aggressor, he said he would convince me, if ever I came to Scotland, who the person was. I have every reason to believe it was a certain lawyer, who hated me for something I once said of him. * * * * But there was another reason that influenced me, more even than my cool resentment against Jeffery, to suppress English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. In the duel scene I had unconsciously made a part of the ridicule to fall on Moore. The fact was, that there was no imputation on the courage of either of the principals. One of the balls fell out in the carriage and was lost, and the seconds, not having a farther supply, drew the remaining one. Shortly after this publication I went abroad, and Moore was so offended by the mention of the leadless pistols, that he addressed a letter to me, in the nature of a challenge, delivering it to the care of Mr. Hanson, but without acquainting him with the contents. This letter was mislaid, at least never forwarded to me. But on my return to England in 1812, an inquiry was made by Moore if I had received such a letter, adding that particular circumstances (meaning his marriage, or perhaps the suppression of my satire) had now altered his situation, and that he wished to recall the letter, and to be known to me through Rogers. I was shy of this mode of arranging matters-one hand presenting a pistol, and the other held out to shake; and felt awkward at the loss of a letter of such a nature, and the imputations it might have given rise to; but when, after a considerable search, it was at length found, I returned it to Moore, with the seal unbroken; and we have since been the best of friends in the world. I correspond with no one so regularly as with Moore."

It is rather a singular thing, that a poem, in itself so calculative to arouse all the angry feelings, as the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,' and bit

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terness of temper of the parties it was addressed at or to, should have been the means, in many instances, of forming an esteem with many of the parties. The reviewers, out of love or of fear (we will not attempt to decide), made the amende honorable, and ever after treated the author with the greatest respect. Moore, whom, in his admirable satire, he treated with great severity, and whose poetry was published under the well-known name of Little,* underwent a severe, but deserved, castigation; he afterward formed a warm friendship with this cotemporary sharer of his glory, which continued to the last hour of his life. He also became a conspicuous member of the coterie of Holland House, against which, in his satire, he had wielded a very strong anathema. This afforded a convincing proof of the liberality and generosity of his disposition, of the benevolence of that heart, that was ready to spread balm over the wound that the hand had made without its consent.

One trait in his character must not be overlooked, for it redounds much to his credit. Seeing the pain it had caused some individuals, and perhaps undeservedly, he did all in his power to prevent the satire being spread abroad; and after it had gone through two or three editions, he stopped its progress most effectually.

On his coming of age, in 1809, he took his seat in the House of Peers; here history, if she cannot say much in his favour, in respect to the talents he exercised, cannot affirm that he in any way perverted his splendid abilities against the cause of liberty, or his country, which were his darling themes. From his birth he entertained a sovereign contempt for the intrigues of court, and the cabals of the ministry. This may be the cause he did not exert his splendid abilities in the senatehouse. He shortly after went abroad, and spent some time in the south and east of Europe, particularly in Greece, and its islands. Scio, Tenos, Cos,

and Albania, he visited with the cele. brated advocate in the cause of liberty and independence, Mr. John Cam Hobhouse, of whom he frequently speaks in terms of great regard.

Mytilene, (or Metelin) seems to have struck his attention more forcibly than any of the Grecian islands. It was on this romantic spot, that he most likely first imbibed that affection for the Greeks, in whose cause he entered so warmly; his untimely death, by them, will be deplored and felt most deeply. The sun of liberty, that had been so long obscured in the clouds of tyranny, seemed on the point of displaying its dazzling light,when death stopped the progress of the grand mover, and, we fear, has enveloped the cause in eternal darkness.

Mytilene is the ancient Lesbos, the reported birth-place of Homer; its mountains are woody, and frequent, and it abounds in hot springs. The island is very beautiful, and the certain supply of vegetables and cattle induces many vessels to make it a watering-place. We have heard from differ ent quarters so many accounts of the conduct of Lord Byron while on this island, that we will briefly put our readers in possession of some facts that will satisfactorily shew, that how ever inconsistent the ill-judged adula tion of his friends, and the rancorous hatred of his enemies, his heart, with all his errors, was naturally good; that his disposition was affectionate; and that his temper, so far from being aggravating, was mild and conciliatory. In fact, the little we have gleaned will tend to prove, he was a man more "sinned against, than sinning:"

the mark where wrong Aims with her poison'd arrow.

Our informants were sailing through the Archipelago on board one of his Majesty's vessels, and touched, as usual with ships bound for Smyrna (although rather out of the track), at the beautiful island of Mytilene, where it appears Lord Byron had shortly before resided.

The officers landed, as was customary, at the bottom of the bay, and whilst the men were employed in watering the vessels, took a ramble. Having en gaged a young Greek as their guide, he informed them that he had just come from Scio with an English Lord, who had left Mytilene about four days previous. "He engaged me," said the

Greek, "and would have taken me with him, but I did not choose to quit Mytilene, where I am likely to get married. He was an odd, but a very good man. The cottage over the hill facing the river belongs to him, and he has left an old man in charge of it." He moreover mentioned, that he had resided there about fourteen months (it was then in the year 1812), though not constantly, as he was fond of sailing about the different islands in his felucca.

This account excited the curiosity of the travellers, as they knew Lord Byron was reported at that time to be residing in one of the Grecian islands, and from the many confirmatory re plies to the questions they put to the lad, they had no doubt but what it was this singular individual himself. They accordingly hastened to the cottage, and were hospitably received by the individual left in charge of it, and who, upon their requesting to have a view of his residence, readily consented. The house was small, and seemed fitted up more with the intention of carelessness, than for the otium cum dignitate of a nobleman. It consisted, on the ground floor, of an entrance hall, a sitting parlour, and a bed room, with a closet annexed. They were all simply decorated, without any thing approaching to ornament, excepting a small fountain playing from a bronze Venus, in the centre of the apartments. The furniture was chiefly English. On the marble tablet of a recess in the room, were some books, which their aged conductor said, "the Lord had been reading the evening before he sailed." He said, they must lie there till his return, for he (Lord B.) was so very tenacious, that were he to move a thing without orders, he would frown upon him for a week together. He was otherwise very kind.

It is a very general observation, that the owner's mind can be frequently discovered by his books. It was, therefore, with great curiosity, the travellers examined those that last engaged the noble possessor's attention. Among the rest they viewed Shakspeare, Voltaire, Boileau, and Rosseau's works, complete; Volney's Ruins of Empire; Zimmerman, in the original German; Klopstock's Messiah; Schiller's Play of the Robbers; an Ítalian edition of Milton's Paradise Lost; several small pamphlets from the Greek press at Constantinople, &c.

These books afford a deep insight

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