By his words, his actions, and the
testimony of all those who approached him, was not Lord Byron the
reverse of all this? Was it he who would have refused the counsels of
friendship? turned aside from admonition? been indignant at blame? Let
those who think so, only read the accounts of his childhood, his youth,
his life of affection, and they will see whether he was not rather the
slave of his loving heart; if he did not always give doubly what he had
received.

Without even speaking of his childhood, when he was really so charming,
of his docility toward his nurses and preceptors, toward good Dr.
Glennie at Dulwich, and afterward at Harrow, toward the excellent Dr.
Drury; let us consider him at that solemn moment for a boy of eighteen,
when he was about to publish his poetic compositions. Did he not burn
the whole edition, because a friend whom he respected, disapproved some
parts?[130] See him again accepting the blame of another friend about
"Childe Harold," and when, before publishing it, yielding to the advice
of Dallas and Gifford, he suppressed the stanzas that most pleased him.
See him also ceasing to write "Don Juan," because the person he loved
had expressed disapprobation of it, not even substantiated by reasons.

Was it Lord Byron who would have been incapable of forgiving? Why, the
pardon of injuries was, on the contrary, a habit with him, a necessity,
his sole vengeance, even when such conduct might appear almost
superhuman. It was thus, that when cruelly wounded in his self-love,
even more than in his heart, by Lady Byron's behavior, he wrote that
touching "Farewell," which might have disarmed the fiercest resentment:
and that afterward, yielding to Madame de Stael's entreaties, he
consented to propose a reconciliation, which was refused: and not even
that aggravation prevented him from often speaking well of Lady Byron.

Gratitude, that proves such an insupportable load to the proud man, did
it not rather seem a happiness to him?

When he had done some wrong, far from refusing to make excuses, was he
not the first to think of it, saying that he could not go to rest, with
resentment in his heart? While a mere boy, and when he had been wounded
in his most enthusiastic feelings by a fortunate rival, Mr. Musters, was
not Byron the first to hold out his hand and express regret for the
bitterness of a few words?

Far from hiding his faults, and not satisfied with avowing them, did he
not magnify them, e