he
whirlwind of hatred, rage, and calumny that took possession of the
virtuous and capricious public. The story of cruelty to his wife grew
in its enormity, his reported liaisons multiplied beyond all human
reason. The bleached, white hearts of the oligarchal party had been
lashed into fury by his withering ridicule and charge of hypocrisy,
but the climax came like a tornado when the poet's sense of fair play
caused him to satirise the Prince Regent and eulogise the Emperor
Napoleon with unique pathos and passion.

This was high treason! He had at last put himself beyond the mercy of
the chosen people. They had twaddled and stormed about his immorality,
but his praise of Napoleon sent them into diabolic frenzy. He was
proclaimed an outlaw and hounded out of the country. The beautiful and
rich Lady Jersey, a leader of society, convinced that he was
misunderstood and was being treated with unreasonable severity,
defended him with all the strength of her resolute character, but
malignity had sunk too deep even for her power and influence to avert
the disaster. So intense was the feeling engendered against him that
it became dangerous for him to drive out without risking an exhibition
of virulent hostility. Had he merely abused the Prince Regent, it is
improbable that any exception would have been taken to it; but to
praise and show compassion for the Man of the French Revolution, who
had fought for a new condition of things which threatened the fabric
on which their order held its dominating and despotic sway, was an
enormity they were persuaded even God in heaven could not tolerate;
why then, should _they_ be expected to do so?--they were only human.
Both public and private resentment ran amok, and thus it was that the
immortal poet's belauding of the immortal Emperor became linked to the
ignominy of being accused of gross immorality. The reaction against
this eccentric being was a fanaticism. There was neither sense nor
reason in it, and as he said, "If what they say of me be true, then I
am not fit for England; but if it be false, then England is not fit
for me"; and with this thought thrilling in his mind he left his
native land, never more to see it.

Caught without a doubt by the spirit of the great man whose eulogy had
given such offence in certain quarters, he embarked on the crusade of
emancipating the Greeks, was stricken with fever, and died at
Missolonghi.

Adhering to human tradition, the nation which had