But drunkenness upon Lord Byron had a peculiar and specific effect, which he notices afterwards, in his Journal, at Venice:  ’The effect of all wines and spirits upon me is, however, strange.  It settles, but makes me gloomy—­gloomy at the very moment of their effect:  it composes, however, though sullenly.’ {178b} And, again, in another place, he says, ’Wine and spirits make me sullen, and savage to ferocity.’

It is well known that the effects of alcoholic excitement are various as the natures of the subjects.  But by far the worst effects, and the most destructive to domestic peace, are those that occur in cases where spirits, instead of acting on the nerves of motion, and depriving the subject of power in that direction, stimulate the brain so as to produce there the ferocity, the steadiness, the utter deadness to compassion or conscience, which characterise a madman.  How fearful to a sensitive young mother in the period of pregnancy might be the return of such a madman to the domestic roof!  Nor can we account for those scenes described in Lady Anne Barnard’s letters, where Lord Byron returned from his evening parties to try torturing experiments on his wife, otherwise than by his own statement, that spirits, while they steadied him, made him ‘gloomy, and savage to ferocity.’

Take for example this:—­

’One night, coming home from one of his lawless parties, he saw me (Lady B.) so indignantly collected, and bearing all with such a determined calmness, that a rush of remorse seemed to come over him.  He called himself a monster, and, though his sister was present, threw himself in agony at my feet.  “I could not, no, I could not, forgive him such injuries!  He had lost me forever!” Astonished at this return to virtue, my tears, I believe, flowed over his face; and I said, “Byron, all is forgotten; never, never shall you hear of it more.”

’He started up, and folding his arms while he looked at me, burst out into laughter.  “What do you mean?” said I.  “Only a philosophical experiment; that’s all,” said he.  “I wished to ascertain the value of your resolutions."’

To ascribe such deliberate cruelty as this to the effect of drink upon Lord Byron, is the most charitable construction that can be put upon his conduct.

Yet the manners of the period were such, that Lord Byron must have often come to this condition while only doing what many of his acquaintances did freely, and without fear of consequences.

Mr. Moore, with his usual artlessness, gives us an idea of a private supper between himself and Lord Byron.  We give it, with our own italics, as a specimen of many others:—­