utwardly from human motives and personal interest. In Livadia at this
time he met with a Greek bishop, whose actions were quite at variance
with his language. How great the antipathy Lord Byron conceived for him,
may be seen by the notes appended to the first and second cantos of
"Childe Harold." For the Pharisees of our days he felt all the anger due
to whited sepulchres. No, certainly, it was not true virtue in general,
nor any one virtue in particular, that he laughed at sometimes; nor was
it friendship, or love, or religion, or any truly respectable sentiment
that ever excited his mirth. He only ridiculed semblances, vain
appearances, when those who paraded them did so from _personal
interest_. Lord Byron knew too well, by experience, that many virtues
admired and set forth as such do but wear a mask in reality; and he
thought it useful for society to divest them of it, and show the hidden
visage. Why should he have shown any consideration for the virtue that
patronizes charity-balls, in order to acquire the right of violating,
with impunity, the duties of a Christian wife? or that other female
virtue which weighs itself in the balance with the privilege of
directing Almacks? or that, wishing to unite the advantages of modesty
with the gratification of passion? In short, why should he have shown
consideration for persons whose merit consists in never _allowing
themselves to be seen as they are_? He was very disrespectful, likewise,
toward certain friendships that he knew by experience to be full of
wordy counsel, but finding nothing to say in the way of consolation or
defense. This peculiar variety of friendship had made him suffer
greatly. In his serious poems he calls it "_the loss of his illusions_;"
and expresses himself with misanthropical indignation, or with a
bleeding heart. But, returning to a milder philosophy, he ended by
smiling and jesting at it, in words like these:--

"Look'd grave and pale to see her friend's fragility,
For which most friends reserve their sensibility."

Seriously; was he bound to any great tenderness toward such friendship
as that? And does it not suffice to set Lord Byron right with _true
friendship_ to hear him say, after having laughed about false friends:--

"But this is not my maxim: had it been,
Some heart-aches had been spared me: yet I care not--
I would not be a tortoise in his screen
Of stubborn shell, which waves and weather wear not.
'Tis better, on