ess;--upon the surface was sourness, discontent,
displeasure, ill will. Beneath all this weight of clouds and
darkness[67]," &c. &c.

Of the sort of double aspect which he thus presented, as viewed by the
world and by 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 already remarked, by no means
insensible or inattentive 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 unaffectedness of his private intercourse, I could
perceive, I thought, with reference to the external world, some slight
changes in his conduct, which seemed indicative 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[68], he avoided showing himself in the mornings, and in crowded
places, much more than was his custom when we first became acquainted.
The preceding year, before his name had grown "so rife and celebrated,"
we had gone together to the exhibition at Somerset House, and other such
places[69]; 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 not fail, he knew, to put rather painfully to the proof.

Among the many gay hours we passed together this spring, I remember
particularly the wild flow of his spirits one evening, when we had
accompanied Mr. Rogers home from some early assembly, and when Lord
Byron, who, according to his frequent custom, had not dined for the last
two days, found his hunger no longer governable, and called aloud for
"something to eat." Our repast,--of his own choosing,--was simple bread
and cheese; and seldom have I partaken of so joyous a supper. It
happened that our host had just received a presentation copy of a volume
of poems, written professedly in imitation of the old English writers,
and containing, like many of these models, a good deal that was striking
and beautiful, mixed up with much that was trifling, fantastic, and
absurd. In our mood