peruse his admirable and simply-written letters, wherein
his soul has, so to say, photographed itself. Acts are unquestionably
more significative than words; yet if we wish to inquire into his
poetry, not by way of appreciating his genius (with which at present we
have nothing to do), but the nature of the man, let us do so loyally.
Let us not attribute to him the character which he lends to his heroes,
nor the customs which he attributes to them, simply because here and
there he has given to the one something of his manner, to the other some
of his sentiments; or because he has harbored them, in the belief that
hospitality can be extended to the wicked without the good suffering
from it.

Let us first examine "Childe Harold,"--the poem which principally
contributed to mystify the public, and commenced that despotic type of
which we have already spoken.

Childe Harold does not tell his own story. His life is told by a poet.
There are, therefore, two well-marked personages on the scene, perfectly
distinct and different from one another. The first is the young nobleman
in whom Byron intended to personify the precocious perversion of mind
and soul of the age, and in general the blased existence of the young
men of the day, of whom he had met many types at Cambridge, and on his
first launch into society. The second is the minstrel who tells his
story.

The heart of the former is closed to all joy and to all the finest
impulses of the soul; whereas that of the other beats with delight at
the prospect of all that is noble, great, good, and just in the world.
Why identify the author rather with the one than with the other--with
the former rather than with the latter? Why take from him his own
sentiments, to give him those of his hero? That hero can not be called
mysterious, since in his preface Byron tells us himself the moral object
for which he has selected him. If Childe Harold personifies Lord Byron,
who will personify the poet? That poet (and he is no other than Lord
Byron) plays a far greater part than the hero. He is much oftener on the
scene. In the greater part of the poem the minstrel alone speaks. In the
ninety-three stanzas of which the first canto is composed, Harold is on
the scene during nineteen stanzas only, while the poet speaks in his own
name during the seventy-four other stanzas, displaying a beautiful soul
under various aspects, and exhibiting no melancholy other than that
inherent to all elevated poet