Today someone asked my age. I said what I always say, (facetiously plagiarized) from Lord George Gordon Byron, that I was a hundred years old and always have been. From that small kernel of thought my mind wandered the unkempt paths of Byron, until I thought I would write a little something about him.

For many readers of nineteenth century Romantic poetry, Lord George Gordon Byron is the iconic poet. Thousands of words have been written about Byron. He captured the minds of countless people and was a legend in his own time. Often myths and legends do not live up to their stories; however, Byron’s myth does not fall that short of the truth. Byron’s exploits and decadent life are, and have been, well studied and even more thoroughly exaggerated. One point that is difficult to argue against is that he was an extremely gifted and driven poet.

Byron excelled in sports and his exploits with women are the stuff of man-legend. He tried to prove himself as a man among men, by athletic prowess and by conquering as many women as he could. He had affairs with some of London’s most prominent ladies and countless others in the rest of England and Europe. His was called a vile sinner, a thief of women’s virtue, and a poetic genius all in the same breath.

 People spoke of him; that was what he wanted. Byron was able to see past what he saw in the mirror when the attention was on his exploits rather than himself. Byron’s romantic poetry seemed to transcend the man. He constructed poetry that was filled with passion and love. It is a testament to his complexity and his genius. His poems of love feel real and deep; they feel much more than what one would expect from a reckless and selfish man-slut. Poems like, “She Walks in Beauty,” “There Be None of Beauty’s Daughters,” and “When We Two Parted,” evoke deep emotion and feeling that go beyond mere passion and lust.

 I believe that this is the real and deepest Byron; the Byron that allowed the feelings he held inside to erupt upon the page, allowing us to witness and partake of his genius.  Byron, like all of us, often live many truths; these truths alone are not what makes us what we are. However, these truths (and lies) come together to make us the complete person that we are. We are our own version of a self-made delusion. Byron was able to write his truth¾a gift from the gods.

 

Maybe he portrayed himself best when he wrote, "I am such a strange melange of good and evil that it would be difficult to describe me."