was the finest conversation I ever met with in my life; a volcano of novel and generous sentiments so mingled together, that the latter appeared to be as much the creatures of his invention as the former. During the remaining part of the evening, he was so thoroughly the Englishman and the Noble Lord that I could never make up my mind to accept his invitations to dine with him, which he repeated from time to time. He was then composing Childe Harold :' every morning he wrote a hundred verses, which, in the evening, he reduced to thirty or forty. Between these periods of labour he had need of relaxation, and he found the necessary amusement in talking after dinner, with his elbows on the table, in the most easy and familiar manner possible.

6

"I remarked that in his moments of inspiration, Lord Byron admired Napoleon, as Napoleon himself admired Corneille.-In his ordinary moments, when Lord Byron felt himself un grand seigneur, he endeavoured to throw ridicule on the Exile of St. Helena. There is no doubt that he felt great envy of the brilliant part of Napoleon's character; his sublime expressions vexed him; we put him quite out of humour by repeating the

famous proclamation to the army in Egypt,' Soldiers, remember that from the summits of these pyramids forty centuries are looking down upon you.' Lord Byron would have been more reconciled to Napoleon, if he had had a little of the somewhat tame appearance of Washington. What is amusing enough is, that it was not at all the odious and despotic part of Napoleon's character which displeased the English peer.

"One evening, when Lord Byron did me the honour of promenading with me in the greenroom of La Scala, some person came and told him that the Austrian officer on guard at the theatre had arrested his secretary, Mr. Polidori, a physician, who attended him. Lord Byron's countenance instantly exhibited a striking resemblance to that of Napoleon, when he was in a rage. Seven or eight persons accompanied him to the Corps de Garde; there he was quite magnificent with compressed indignation and energy during a whole hour that the officer on guard was blustering with vulgar passion. On our return to the box of Signor de Breme, we began praising the aristocratic principles which were generally great favourites with Lord Byron; he felt the irony-and quitted the box, internally in

a rage, but externally displaying nothing but the most perfect politeness. Next day the secretary was obliged to quit Milan.

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Signor de Breme prevailed upon me shortly afterwards to accompany his Lordship to the Museo di Brera. I admired the depth of feeling with which this great poet entered into the merits of painters, the most opposite in their style: Raphael, Guercino, Luini, Titian, &c. Hagar dismissed by Abraham, by Guercino, quite electrified him; from that moment admiration kept us all silent; he improvised for a whole hour, much better, in my opinion, than ever did Madame de Staël.

"What struck me the most in this extraordinary man, particularly when he was abusing Napoleon, was, that according to my opinion he had no real knowledge of mankind; his pride, his rank, his renown, had prevented him from treating with them on a footing of equality. His hauteur and distrust had always kept them at too great a distance to allow him to observe them properly; he was too much accustomed to undertake nothing but what he could carry by main force. As some counterbalance, he, displayed a multitude of delicate and just ideas when we hap

pened to talk of women whom he knew, as he always had a desire to please and to deceive them. He spoke with pity of the women of England, of Geneva, and of Neufchatel, &c. What Lord Byron's genius wanted was, to be put under the necessity of negotiating and discussing with his equals. I am convinced, that if he had lived to return from Greece, his talents would have appeared, all at once, enlarged one-half. In his endeavours to reconcile Mavrocordatos and Colocotroni, he would have acquired some positive knowledge of the human heart; then, perhaps, Lord Byron might have elevated himself to the height of real tragedy. He would have had fewer fits of misanthropy; he would not have always thought that every one about him was solely occupied with him, and occupied with a view to excite his envy, or to deceive him. The fund of misanthropy of this great man had been increased by English society. His friends remarked, that the more he lived with the Italians, the more happy and obliging he became. If we substitute black bile for fits of childish anger, we shall find that Lord Byron's character had the most striking resemblance to that of Voltaire.

"But I must conclude, in order not to make a dissertation instead of a letter. You must excuse me, Madam, for troubling you with these general observations. I could have wished rather to have given you facts; but an interval of seven or eight years has banished these from my memory, in which there now only remain the conclusions which I drew from them at the time. I shall be very happy if you are satisfied with this kind of moral portrait, and if you regard these hastily-written pages as a proof of the profound respect with which I have the honour to be, &c. &c.

"H. BEYLE."