expected to find him a dignified, cold, reserved, and haughty person,
resembling those mysterious personages he so loves to paint in his works,
and with whom he has been so often identified by the good-natured world;
but nothing can be more different; for were I to point out the prominent
defect of Lord Byron, I should say it was flippancy, and a total want of
that natural self-possession and dignity which ought to characterize a man
of birth and education.

_April 2nd_.--We had scarcely finished our _déjeuné à la fourchette_ this
day when Lord Byron was announced: he sent up two printed cards, in an
envelope addressed to us, and soon followed them. He appeared still more
gay and cheerful than the day before--made various inquiries about all our
mutual friends in England--spoke of them with affectionate interest, mixed
with a badinage in which none of their little defects were spared; indeed
candour obliges me to own that their defects seemed to have made a deeper
impression on his mind than their good qualities (though he allowed all
the latter) by the _gusto_ with which he entered into them.

He talked of our mutual friend Moore, and of his _Lalla Rookh_, which he
said, though very beautiful, had disappointed him, adding, that Moore
would go down to posterity by his _Melodies_, which were all perfect. He
said that he had never been so much _affected_ as on hearing Moore sing
some of them, particularly "When first I met Thee," which, he said, made
him shed tears: "But," added he, with a look full of archness, "it was
after I had drunk a certain portion of very potent white brandy." As he
laid a peculiar stress on the word _affected_, I smiled, and the sequel of
the white brandy made me smile again: he asked me the cause, and I
answered that his observation reminded me of the story of a lady offering
her condolence to a poor Irishwoman on the death of her child, who stated
that she had never been more affected than on the event; the poor woman,