s body, like his spirit, readily accommodated itself to all
his inclinations. During an entire winter, he went out every morning
alone to row himself to the island of Armenians, (a small island
situated in the midst of a tranquil lake, and distant from Venice about
half a league,) to enjoy the society of those learned and hospitable
monks, and to learn their difficult language; and, in the evening,
entering again into his gondola, he went, but only for a couple of
hours, into company. A second winter, whenever the water of the lake was
violently agitated, he was observed to cross it, and landing on the
nearest _terra firma_, to fatigue at least two horses with riding.
"No one ever heard him utter a word of French, although he was
perfectly conversant with that language. He hated the nation and its
modern literature; in like manner, he held the modern Italian literature
in contempt, and said it possessed but one living author,--a restriction
which I know not whether to term ridiculous, or false and injurious. His
voice was sufficiently sweet and flexible. He spoke with much suavity,
if not contradicted, but rather addressed himself to his neighbour than
to the entire company.
"Very little food sufficed him; and he preferred fish to flesh for this
extraordinary reason, that the latter, he said, rendered him ferocious.
He disliked seeing women eat; and the cause of this extraordinary
antipathy must be sought in the dread he always had, that the notion he
loved to cherish of their perfection and almost divine nature might be
disturbed. Having always been governed by them, it would seem that his
very self-love was pleased to take refuge in the idea of their
excellence,--a sentiment which he knew how (God knows how) to reconcile
with the contempt in which, shortly afterwards, almost with the
appearance of satisfaction, he seemed to hold them. But contradictions
ought not to surprise us in characters like Lord Byron's; and then, who
does not know that the slave holds in detestation his ruler?
"Lord Byron disliked his countrymen, but only because he knew that his
morals were held in contempt by them. The English, themselves rigid
observers of family duties, could not pardon him the neglect of his, nor
his trampling on principles; therefore neither did he like being
presented to them, nor did they, especially when they had their wives
with them, like to cultivate his acquaintance. Still there was a strong
desire in all of t
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