ho
is not also an atheist. This unfortunate mistress of Herbert was
magnified into a _seraglio_; extraordinary tales of the voluptuous life
of one who generally _at his studies outwatched the stars_, were rife in
English society; and

'Hoary marquises and stripling dukes,'

who were either _protecting opera-dancers_, or, still worse, _making
love to their neighbors' wives_, either looked grave when the name of
Herbert (Lord Byron) was mentioned in female society, or affectedly
confused, as if they could a tale unfold, if they were not convinced,
that the sense of propriety among all present was infinitely superior to
their sense of curiosity."

In addition to all the proofs given by the varied uses Lord Byron made
of his intellect we must not omit those furnished by the state of his
heart. If, too readily yielding at Venice to momentary and fleeting
attractions, Lord Byron had been led to squander the powers of youth, to
wish to extinguish his senses in order to open out a more vast horizon
to his intelligence; if, thus mistaking the means, he had, nevertheless,
weakened, enervated, degraded himself, would not his heart have been the
first victim sacrificed on the altar of light pleasures?

But, on the contrary, this heart which he had never succeeded in lulling
into more than a slumber, when the hour of awakening came, held dominion
by its own natural energy over the proud aspirations of his
intelligence, and found both his youth and faculty of loving unweakened,
and that he had a love capable of every sacrifice, a love as fresh as in
his very spring-tide.

Are such metamorphoses possible to withered souls? Moralists have never
met with a like phenomenon. On the contrary, they certify that in hearts
withered by the enjoyments of sense all generous feelings, all noble
aspirations become extinct.

If Lord Byron's anti-sensuality were not sufficiently proved by his
actions, words, writings, and by the undeniable testimony of those who
knew him, it might still be abundantly proved by his habits of life, and
all his tastes; to begin with his sobriety, which really was wonderful.
So much so, that if the proverb, _Tell me what you eat, and I will tell
you what you are_, be true, and founded on psychological observation,
one must admit that Lord Byron was almost an immaterial being.

His fine health, his strong and vigorous constitution, lead to the
presumption that, at least in childhood and during his boyish days