the flush of anger or of indignant modesty to the cheek.

The present, and, still less, the past, are no more considered as sacred
ground. Even the Norman conquest is no longer a seditious subject. The
dictionary of society has gained many words; and Englishmen no longer
fear to see their children lose that patriotism which for them is almost
a religion, because they read books not deifying their own country and
full of libels on the rest of the globe.

Historians, novel-writers, poets--even theologians--have vied with each
other in tearing away the bandages concealing many old wounds, in order
to cure them by contact with the vivifying breezes of heaven; and twenty
years after Lord Byron, Macaulay has been able, without losing his
popularity, to show less filial piety than he, and to blame the past in
language so beautiful as to obtain forgiveness for the sacrifice even of
truth.

But, in Lord Byron's time, England was carrying on her great struggle
against the lion of the age. Separated from the Continent by war still
more than by the sea, the cannon's roar booming across the waters added
venom to her wounds, and pride made her prefer to conceal rather than to
heal them.

The echo of this detested cannon was still sounding when Lord Byron
returned to England, from his travels in the East, with the same thirst
for truth as heretofore, but having gained much from observation,
comparison, and reflection. He believed he had the right to make use of
faculties with equal independence, whether as regarded his own nation or
the rest of humanity. England then seemed to wish to arrogate to herself
the monopoly, of morality, wisdom, and greatness, together with the
right of despising the rest of the world. Lord Byron considered this
pretension as excessive, and he expressed his generous incredulity in
lines proudly independent. He refused to see heroism where he did not
believe it to exist, and would not accord glory to victories that seemed
to him the result of chance. He refused to see virtue and religion in
what he considered calculation or hypocrisy. He demanded _justice_ for
Catholic Ireland, and impartiality for enemies; he even went so far as
to show sympathy for Napoleon and deplore his fall. He could not allow
party spirit to depreciate the genius of Napoleon. Madame de Stael, who
had made Lord Byron's acquaintance in London when he was very young, and
had conceived a great liking for him, often wrote to him, and al