Lord Byron's Romanticized Outlaw

Byron created heroes who embody the ultimate in individualism, self-sufficiency, ambition, and aspiration, yet who are isolated, gloomy, unsatisfied, and dangerous to themselves and others. In their autonomy, their insistence on defining their own moral code, and their superhuman abilities, they provide a vicarious antidote to their readers' own sense of helplessness and powerlessness in the face of institutional oppression.

Yet Byron refuses to set his heroes up as role models, leaders, or guides, showing us the alienation and the perpetual inability to be satisfied that comes with "a fiery soul." Despite their bitter misanthropy and inability to form meaningful connections with others, Byron's outlaws are attractive in their staunch refusal to abide by society's codes and in their flamboyant self-realization.

By definition, the protagonists in Byron's great poems—Manfred, Childe Harold, and Cain, for instance—are the quintessential romantic outlaws (Lamb, 344). They are wronged by society or flawed in some deep way but have a redeeming quality that fascinates us. Like Byron himself, they are often irresistible because they are "mad, bad, and dangerous to know."

I believe that within us is a romantic yearning, to escape from the mundane world-as-it-is into a nobler and more meaningful time and place (Duncan, 3). It would certainly explain why there is a wondering esteem for those who break the law. The suave gangster with impeccable manners and a fine library is a sexier, more mysterious figure than the uncouth thug. For a modern parallel, compare John Gotti and Sammy (The Bull) Gravano. The exquisite exterior, hiding a heart of darkness: What greater passion may one desire? Gotti, as an example, was considered flamboyant and attractive, while it was well known that he broke many laws, going with the Byronic hero's refusal to abide with society's rules. Although, Gotti was a leader, but then again, so was Nixon.

Any admiration we have for criminals is reluctant due to our mental conflict on the issue. We try to minimize this conflict by developing certain strategies. One such strategy is to rationalize our admiration of criminals by endowing them with certain virtues such as greatness or glamour. Another strategy is repression, whereby we bar from consciousness our admiration for criminals and replace it with loathing.

One function of romanticizing criminals and their place of punishment is to "ward off the various narcissistic wounds to which our flesh is heir—the fear of leading prosaic, meaningless lives and the pain of recognizing our ultimate solitude and our mortal condition.