Critical, Historical, and Miscellaneous Essays; Vol. 2: With a Memoir and IndexMacaulay, Thomas Babington Macaulay, Baron
Philosophy
Critical, Historical, and Miscellaneous Essays; Vol. 2: With a Memoir and Index
Macaulay, Thomas Babington Macaulay, Baron
English literature -- History and criticism; Great Britain -- History
The obloquy which Byron had to endure was such as might well have shaken
a more constant mind. The newspapers were filled with lampoons. The
theatres shook with execrations. He was excluded from circles where he
had lately been the observed of all observers. All those creeping things
that riot in the decay of nobler natures hastened to their repast; and
they were right; they did after their kind. It is not every day that
the savage envy of aspiring dunces is gratified by the agonies of such a
spirit, and the degradation of such a name.
The unhappy man left his country for ever. The howl of contumely
followed him across the sea, up the Rhine, over the Alps; it gradually
waxed fainter; it died away; those who had raised it began to ask each
{333}other, what, after all, was the matter about which they had been
so clamorous, and wished to invite back the criminal whom they had just
chased from them. His poetry became more popular than it had ever
been; and his complaints were read with tears by thousands and tens of
thousands who had never seen his face.
He had fixed his home on the shores of the Adriatic, in the most
picturesque and interesting of cities, beneath the brightest of skies,
and by the brightest of seas. Censoriousness was not the vice of the
neighbours whom he had chosen. They were a race corrupted by a bad
government and a bad religion, long renowned for skill in the arts of
voluptuousness, and tolerant of all the caprices of sensuality. From the
public opinion of the country of his adoption, he had nothing to dread.
With the public opinion of the country of his birth, he was at open war.
He plunged into wild and desperate excesses, ennobled by no generous
or tender sentiment. From his Venetian harem he sent forth volume after
volume, full of eloquence, of wit, of pathos, of ribaldry, and of bitter
disdain. His health sank under the effects of his intemperance. His hair
turned grey. His food ceased to nourish him. A hectic fever withered him
up. It seemed that his body and mind were about to perish together.
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