■^?S.*'r°!*?^^>«^ 
 
 S 
 
 tf 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 s 
 
 
 
 Ij 
 
 c. 
 
 s
 
 JOURNAL, 
 
 &c.
 
 LONBON : 
 PRINTED By S. AND li. BEXTLEY, DORCET STREET.
 
 ':,. . /, „i,/a- b^' /Ae . /%7vm/ f^Aiy^'na r/^i-rr/ JjOy/tj-/, 
 
 J^^t^ 
 
 (^ tTl 
 
 ^ F ^ Ay^ ^ ^ 
 
 
 ^ ^7 //^A^l-L. <^ "Z^ ^-^eiC ^i*^--^ Iz^e-i 
 
 ^ ^ ^ '^ '^ 
 
 <^ - 
 
 
 ti^^< 
 
 Tidfldjft^d/ by SjiO^ /bWitrn.,X^^n^H', J,i/' ?3,Jg?-i
 
 Ex LJbria 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 JOURNAL 
 
 OF THE 
 
 CONVERSATIONS 
 
 LORD BYRON: 
 
 NOTED DURING A RESIDENCE WITH HIS LORDSHIP 
 
 AT PISA, 
 
 IN THE YEARS 1821 AND 1822. 
 
 BY THOMAS MED WIN, ESQ. 
 
 OF THE 24th LIGHT DRAGOONS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " AHASUERUS THE WANDERER." 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1824.
 
 PR 
 
 4382 
 
 IJBHARY , 
 SAWTA BAEBAiiA 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 The Publisher of this Work thinks it proper to 
 state, that he feh desirous of suggesting to the 
 Author, who is abroad, the suppression of certain 
 passages ; but, finding- that these, among various 
 others, had been extracted, with the Author's per- 
 mission, from the original Manuscript before it 
 came into his possession, and also that they have 
 now appeared in print, he has no longer consi- 
 dered it necessary to urge their suppression in the 
 present Volume.
 
 P R E F A C E. 
 
 " A great poet belongs to no country ; his 
 works are public property, and his Memoirs the 
 inheritance of the public." Such were the sen- 
 timents of Lord Byron ; and have they been 
 attended to? Has not a manifest injustice been 
 done to the world, and an injury to his memory, 
 by the destruction of his Memoirs ? These are 
 questions which it is now late, perhaps needless, 
 to ask ; but I will endeavour to lessen, if not 
 to remedy, the evil. 
 
 I am aware that in publishing these remi- 
 niscences I shall have to contend with much
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 ol)lo(|uy from some parts of his fimiily, — that I 
 shall incur the animosity of many of his friends. 
 There are authors, too, who will not be pleased to 
 find their names in print, — to hear his real opinion 
 of themselves, or of their works. There are 
 
 others But I have the satisfaction of feeling that 
 
 I have set about executing the task I have under- 
 taken, conscientiously : I mean neither to throw a 
 veil over his errors, nor a gloss over his virtues. 
 
 My sketch will be an imperfect and a rough 
 one, it is true, but it will be from the hfe ; and 
 slight as it is, may prove more valuable, perhaps, 
 than a finished drawing from memory. It will 
 be any thing but a panegyric : my aim is to paint 
 him as he was. That his passions were violent 
 and impetuous, cannot be denied ; but his feelings 
 and affections were equally strong. Both demand- 
 ed continual employment ; and he had an im- 
 patience of repose, a " restlessness of rest, " that
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 kept them in constant activity. It is satisfiictory 
 too, at least it is some consolation, to reflect, that 
 the last energies of his nature were consumed in 
 the cause of liberty, and for the benefit of man- 
 kind. 
 
 How I became acquainted with so many par- 
 ticulars of his history, so many incidents of his 
 life, so many of his opinions, is easily explained. 
 They were communicated during a period of 
 many months' familiar intercourse, without any 
 injunctions to secrecy, and committed to paper 
 for the sake of reference only. They have not 
 been shewn to any one individual, and but for 
 the fate of his MS. would never have appeared 
 before the public. 
 
 I despise mere writing for the sake of book- 
 making, and have disdained to swell out my 
 materials into volumes. I have given Lord Byron's
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 ideas as I noted them down at the time, — in liis 
 own words, as far as my recollection served. 
 
 They are however, in many cases, the substance 
 without the form. The brilliancy of his wit, the 
 flow of his eloquence, the sallies of his imagi- 
 nation, who could do justice to ? His voice, his 
 manner, which gave a charm to the whole, who 
 could forget ? 
 
 " His subtle talk would cheer the winter night, 
 And make me know myself; and the fire-light 
 Would flash uj)on our faces, till the day 
 Might dawn, and make me wonder at my stay." 
 
 Shelley's Julian and Maddalo. 
 Geneva, 1st August, 1824.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Writer's arrival at Pisa. Lord Byron's live stock and 
 impedimenta. The Lanfranchi palace ; Ugolino; Lanfranclifs 
 crhost. English Cerberus. Lord B.'s Lcporello ; bas reliefs and 
 
 mantel-pieces '. ' 
 
 Introduction to Lord Byron. His cordiality of manner. Description 
 of his person ; his bust by Bertolini , the cloven foot ; his temperate 
 habits, and regard for the brute creation. Conversations on S^vlt- 
 zerland and Germany ; strong predilection for Turkey • • ■ • 
 Residence at Geneva. Malicious Intruders. Madame de Stael. Din- 
 ner disaster. Excursions on the lake; Shelley and Hobhouse; 
 St Preux and Julia; classical drowning. Lord Byron's horseman- 
 ship ; pistol-firing ; remarks on dueUing ; his own duels. Anecdote 
 Sunset at Venice and Pisa. Routine of Lord Byron's life. The 
 Countess Guiccioli : Lord B.'s attachment to her; beautiful Sonnet 
 and Stanzas in honour of her. Cavatieri Servem. Mode of bring- 
 ing up Italian females ; its consequences. Italian propensity to love. 
 
 Intimacy with the Countess : her rescue 
 
 Lord Byron's preference for Ravenna. Female beauty in Italy and 
 England compared. The Constitutionalists; their proscription. 
 Lord Byron's danger. Assassination of the miUtary Commandant 
 
 at Ravenna Lord B.'s humanity • 
 
 The Byron Memoirs: Mr. Moore, Lady Burghersh, and Lady 
 Byron Lord B.'s opinion of his own Memoirs; his marriage and 
 separation. Mrs. Williams, the Enghsh Sybil. An omen. Lord 
 B 's introduction to Miss MiUbank ; his courtship and marriage . 
 The wedding-ring. An uneasy ride. The honey-moon. Lord and 
 Ladv B.'s fashionable dissipation; consequent embarrassment; hnal 
 
 b 
 
 Page 
 
 9—11 
 
 11—16 
 
 16—20 
 
 •20— 29 
 
 29—34 
 
 34—38
 
 2 CONTENTS. 
 
 separation. Lord B.'s prejudices respecting women. Family jars ; 
 Mrs. Charlement. Domestic felony. Mrs. Mardyn. Statute of 
 lunacy. Lady Noel's hatred : anecdote 38 — 4.') 
 
 Lady Byron's abilities. Lord B.'s various counter-parts. " The 
 Examiner" and Lady Jersey. Sale of Newstead Abbey ; departure 
 from England 45 — 49 
 
 Madame de Stael and Goethe. Lord B.'s partiality for America; 
 curious specimen of American criticism. The ' Sketches of 
 Italy.' Lord B.'s life at Venice ; furthei- remarks on his Memoirs . 49 — 53 
 
 Anecdotes of himself and companions; Lord Falkland. Lord B.'s 
 presentiments ; early horror of matrimony ; anti-matrimonial wager. 
 Anecdotes of his father. Craniology. Anecdote of his uncle. Early 
 love for Scotland ; Mary C . Harrow School ; Duke of Dor- 
 set ; Lords Clare and Calthorpe ; school rebellion 53 — 62 
 
 The ' Hours of Idleness. ' The skull goblet ; a new order established 
 at Newstead. Juha Alpinula. Skulls from the field of Morat. 
 Lord B.'s contempt for academic honours ; his bear ; the ourang- 
 outang. A lady in masquerade. Mrs. L. G.'s depravity. Singular 
 occurrence. Comparison of P^nglish and Italian profligacy . . 62 — 68 
 
 Fashionable pastimes; Hell in St. James's Street; chicken-hazard. 
 Scroope Davies, and Lord B.'s pistols ; the deodand. Lord B. 
 commences his travels. His opinion of Venice. His own and 
 Napoleon's opinion of women. The new Fomarina ; Harlowe the 
 painter. Gallantry sometimes dangerous at Venice 68 — 74 
 
 Lord Byron's religious opinions ; his scepticism only occasional. 
 English Cathedral Service. Religion of Tasso and Milton. Mis- 
 sionary Societies, and missions to the East. Tentazione di Sarit'' 
 Antonio. Tacitus ; Priestley and Wesley. Dying moments of 
 Johnson, Cowper, Hume, Voltaire, and Creech. Sale. Anything- 
 arians; Gibbon ; Plato's three principles. Lord B.'s correspond- 
 ents; ecstatic epistolary extract. Prayer for Lord B.'s con- 
 version; his avowal of being a Christian 74 — 83 
 
 Ali Pacha's barbarity. Affecting tale. Ileal incident in 'The Giaour.' 
 Albanian guards. The Doctor in alarm. Lord Byron's ghost. 
 He prophesies that he should die in Greece. Lord Byron and
 
 CONTENTS. 3 
 
 Page 
 
 the Drury Lane Committee. Theatricals. Obstacles to writing 
 for the stage. Kemble ; Mrs. Siddons ; Munden ; Shakspeare ; 
 Alfieri ; Maturin ; Miss Baillie. Modern sensitiveness. ' Marino 
 Faliero.' Ugo Foscolo 83—97 
 
 Ada. Singular coincidence. Ideas on education. Ada's birth-day. 
 Lord Byron's melancholy and superstition. Birth-day fatalities. 
 Death of Polidori. 'The Vampyre' — foundation of the story Lord 
 Byron's ; ' Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus.' Query to Sir 
 Humphrey Davy. Scott, Rousseau, and Goethe. Fulfilment of 
 Mrs. Williams's prophecy. Unlucky numbers 97 — 104 
 
 Lord Byron's epigrams. His hospitahty. Advances towards a 
 reconciliation with Lady Byron. Death of Lady Noel. Lord 
 Byron's remarks on lyric poetry; Coleridge, Moore, and Campbell. 
 Ode on Sir John Moore's funeral 104-114 
 
 Swimming across the Hellespont. Adventures at Brighton and Ve- 
 nice. ' Marino Faliero' and ' The Two Foscari.' Hogg the Ettrick 
 Shepherd's prediction. Failure of ' Marino Faliero :' Lord Byron's 
 epigram on the occasion. Louis Dix-huit's translation : Jeffrey's 
 critique. Quarterly and Edinburgh Reviews. Subjects for tragedies 1 14-124 
 
 Barry Cornwall. ' Cain.' Gessner's ' Death of Abel.' Hobhouse's 
 opinion of ' Cain.' Lord B.'s defence of that poem. Goethe's 
 ' Faust.' Letter to Murray respecting ' Cain.' Bacchanalian song. 
 Private theatricals. The Definite Article. A play proposed. 
 The Guiccioli's Fefo 124-135 
 
 Merits of actors. Dowton and Kean. Kean's Richard the 
 Third and Sir Giles Overreach. Garrick's dressing of Othello. 
 Kemble's costume ; his Coriolanus and Cato : his colloquial 
 blank verse. Improvisatori : Theodore Hook : Sgricci ; his 
 ' Iphigenia.' Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neill. The elephant's 
 legs. Stage courtship. Lamb's Specimens. Plagiarisms. ' Faust' 135-142 
 
 Lord Byron's ' Hours of Idleness.' The ineffectual potation. Se- 
 verity of reviewers. ' English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.' 
 Jeffrey and Moore. Moore's challenge to Lord Byron ; mis- 
 carriage of the letter; subsequent friendship. Chai'acter of 
 Southey 142-147
 
 4 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Mr. Southey's letter in ' The Literary Gazette.' Lord Byron's 
 anxiety and anger. ' Vision of Judgment.' Southey's critique 
 on'FoHage.' Shelley's Aieos. 'The Deformed Transformed:' 
 Shelley's opinion thereon. Southey's epitaph. ' Heaven and 
 Earth :' Murray's refusal to print. ' Cain,' and the Lord Chan- 
 cellor. 'Loves of the Angels' and ' Lalla Rookh.' Projected 
 completion of ' Heaven and Earth.' ' The Prophecy of Dante.' 
 Italian enthusiasm in favour of Dante 147-160 
 
 Shelley's opinion that the study of Dante is unfavourable to 
 writing : the difficulty of translating him : Taaft'e and Cary. 
 Lord Byron and ' The Prophecy of Dante.' Swedenborg's disci- 
 ples. Translations of Lord Byron's works. The greatest compli- 
 ment ever paid him. Milton and the cat's back. Milton and 
 Shakspeare redivivi. Lord Byron's opinion of ' Childe Harold,' 
 and the inequality of his writings. Epics. Southey's ' Joan of 
 Arc ;' ' Curse of Kehama,' &c. ' Don .luan' and the Iliad. Dr. 
 Johnson's censorship defied. Intended plan of ' Don Juan :' ad- 
 ventures and death of the hero 161-166 
 
 ^Murray's plea : the Cookery-book his sheet-anchor : real cause of 
 his anxiety for Lord Byron's fame. Douglas Kinnaird's friend- 
 ship. Murray's offer for ' Don Juan,' per Canto. Piracy of ' Don 
 Juan,' and its cause. The bishops. Murray's dislike to Shelley. 
 Price given for Third Canto of ' Childe Harold,' ' Manfred,' 
 and ' The Prisoner of Chillon' 166-169 
 
 ' The Quarterly Review' and its bulhes. A literary set-to. Murray 
 and Galignani. Murray's purchase of ' Cain,' ' The Two Foscari,' 
 and ' Sardanapalus.' The deed. Reconcihation with Murray. 
 ' Cain,' and the Anti-constitutional Society. Murray, Lord 
 Byron, and the ' Navy List.' Last book of Lord Byron's pub- 
 lished by Murray. Opening fire of ' The Quarterly.' ' The 
 AVanderer. ' Coleridge's ' Christabel,' and Scott's ' Metrical 
 Tales.' Sir W. Scott's talents at recitation. An English October 
 day. Unconscious ])lagiarism. ' Kubla Khan.' Madame de Stael. 
 Coleridge's Memoirs, (irammont. Alfieri's Life, and Lord B.'s 
 Confessions. Coleridge's want of identity. Pocteinl/yj . . . 169-176
 
 CONTENTS. 5 
 
 Page 
 
 Intended Juto da fl Priestly charity. Duchess of Lucca. Lord 
 Guilford. Grand Duke of Tuscany. Intended rescue ; escape 
 of the Victim. Madame de Stael and the opposition leaders m 
 Eno-land: her ultraisms. Brummell. Reported double marriage; 
 Barmi Auguste and Miss Millbank ; Lord B. and the Duchess of 
 Broglie. Madame de StaeFs conversational powers. ' Glenarvon.' 
 Madame de Stael's amiable heart. Women, and Opera figurantes : 
 pirouetting common to both. Napoleon and Madame de Stael. 
 Lord B.'s opinion of Napoleon and of his exit. Madame de Stael s ^^^^^^^ 
 
 historical omission. Rocca •, i- 
 
 Complaint against the East India Company. Lord B. s hberahty. 
 Balloons and Horace. Steam. Philosophical systems. Romances. 
 Lewis's 'Monkf its groundwork. Secret of Walter Scott's m- 
 spiration. 'The Bleeding Nun.' Ghost stories: the haunted 
 room at Manheim; Mina and the passing-bell. Lewis and 
 Matthias. 'Abellino.' 'Pizarro' and Sheridan. 'The Castle 
 Spectre- in Drury Lane. Lord B.'s sketch of Sheridan. The 
 age of compani-abihty. Monk Lewis and his brother's ghost. 
 Madame de Stael, Lewis, and the Slave Trade. A fatal emetic 183-192 
 Imputed plagiarisms. A dose of Wordsworth physic. Shelley s 
 admiration of Wordsworth. Peter Bell's ass, and the family 
 circle. The Republican trio. Comparisons. The Botany Bay 
 Eclo-ue, the Panegyric of Martin the Regicide, and 'Wat Tyler,' 
 versus the Laureate odes and the Waterloo eulogium. The par 
 nobite mortally wounded. Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd's ' Poetic 
 Mirror' The ' Rejected Addresses.' Bowles: Coleridge's pra.se 
 of him inexplicable. Bowles's good fellowship: his Madeira 
 woods. Pope's Letters to Martha Blount. The evil attending a 
 pujmable name. Lord B.'s partiality to Johnson's Lives of the 
 Poets No monument to Pope in Poet's Corner: the reason. 
 Milton's name m jeopardy. Voltaire's tomb blocked up. Identity 
 
 of a great poet and a religious man maintained I.^-IJ 
 
 Walter Scott's Novels. Rarity of novelty. Plagiarisms. Claims 
 of Shakspeare and Sheridan. A good memory sometimes a 
 misfortune. Lord Byron's partiality to W. Scott's novels.
 
 Q CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Scott, the great Unknown : two anecdotes in proof. Scott's prose 
 fatal to his poetry : his versatility. ' Halidon Hill.' Charla- 
 tanism in writing incognito. Junius: Sir Philip Francis. His 
 conjugal felicity and marital affection. Warren Hastings. ' Pur- 
 suits of Literature.' IMonk Lewis and Walter Scott. ' The Fire- 
 King' and ' Will Jones.' Walter Scott's obligation to Coleridge. 
 His freedom from jealousy 197-202 
 
 Rogers ycleped a Nestor and an .Argonaut. Rogers and the Cata^ 
 combs. Lady Morgan's ' Italy.' Immortality of ' The Pleasures 
 of Memory.' ' Jacqueline' versus ' Lara.' Rogers too fastidious 
 as to his fame. Grand end of all poetry. Lord Byron's ' Cor- 
 sair.' Love and poets : Mrs. and Shelley ; Miss Stafford 
 
 and Crebillon. Rogers's dinners and Lady Holland. Elegant 
 orientalisms. Poetical oscillation. Rogers's sensitiveness. Spots 
 in the sun. Rogers's epigrammatic talent 202-208 
 
 Parson N*tt, the would-be Bishop. Warburton's ' Legation of Moses' 
 no authority. Poets and penknives. Lord Byron's return from 
 Greece in 1812; attachment to the Morea ; Second Canto of 
 ' Childe Harold.' Lady Jersey. Brummell. A hot-pressed dar- 
 ling. ' The Corsair.' Polidori. The four trials. An adventure. 
 Love in high life. A rupture. Female espionage : the disguise : 
 a scene. Stanzas 208-215 
 
 Imputed ingratitude towards a certain personage; defence. Pre- 
 sentation. Unmeaning compliments from the politest man in the 
 world. The Irish Avatara. Lord Edward Fitzgerald ; his adven- 
 tures; Ca-ira. The O'Connors. Fate of Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald ' 215-222 
 
 Query on a line in ' Beppo :' answer. A novel. Florence and 
 Fiorabella's flowers. ' The Giaour' and the sage reviewer. Shelley 
 and the bookseller. Sotheby, Edgeworth, Galignani, and Moore. 
 Intended mystification. Baron Lutzerode ; his heroic action. 
 Lord Byron's distaste for princes and their satellites. De la Mar- 
 tine's comparison; his 'Meditations Poetiques.' Harrow the nursery 
 for politicians. Lord Byron's indifference to pohtics ; his detesta- 
 tion of Castlereagh. Lord Byron's two speeches in the House;
 
 CONTENTS. 7 
 
 Page 
 
 universality of his views. Portugal and Spain. Greece. The 
 Austrians in Venice. Ireland. Lord Cochrane and Mavrocor- 
 datos. Lambrino's ode. Lord Byron's opinion of affairs in the 
 Morea. The Turks; their mode of warfare. Prophetic age of 
 Voltaire, Alfieri, and Goldsmith. Shelley's observation on poets. 
 Lord Byron's prospective plans. Greece. The Guiccioli. Lock 
 of Napoleon's hair. Lord Carlisle's poem to Lady Holland on the 
 snuff-box : Lord Byron's parody on it. Epigram on Lord Car- 
 lisle. Shelley's talent for poetry ; comparison between his works 
 
 and Chatterton's. Remarks on metres •222-237 
 
 The Reviews. Shelley and Keats. Milman's ' Fazio.' ' The Quar- 
 terly' and Shelley : Lord Byron's eulogium on the latter. Mil- 
 man's ' Siege of Jerusalem,' and his obligations to Milton. The 
 Quarterly Reviewers. Dryden's cutting couplet. Keats and the 
 Cockneys. Keats's sentimentalism. ' Hyperion.' Lord Thurlow. 
 ' LaUa Rookh ' Moore and Captain Ellis ; instance of an Iricism 
 in the former. 'The Lusiad' and Lord Strangford. The Bermuda 
 affair : Moore's independence. ' Tlie Fudge Family :' Letter to 
 
 Big Ben. Moore's immortality : the Irish Melodies 237-242 
 
 The Author takes leave of Lord Byron for some time. The affray 
 at Pisa ; French account of it ; the depositions. Banishment of 
 the Counts Gamba and Lord Byron's servants from Pisa. Lord 
 Byron's departure. The Gambas ordered to quit the Tuscan 
 States. The Lanfranchi palace. Arrival of Leigh Hunt and his 
 family. Shelley's death ; Memoir of him (in a note) : burning of 
 his body ; descriptive accoimt of the scene. Lord Byron's remedy 
 for a fever : his attachment to the Countess Guiccioli. His first 
 introduction to I>eigh Hunt. Lord Byron's gratitude. Object 
 of Hunt's journey. His Lordship's intended translation of Ariosto. 
 Advice of Moore. The new Periodical. Lord Byron's opinion of 
 
 Hunt. The Blue-coat foundation. Punning titles 242-262 
 
 Intention of a trip to America. Civilities from the Americans ; diffe- 
 rent treatment by an Enghsh sloop of war. Lord Byron's naval 
 ancestor. 'Werner.' Miss Lee's 'Canterbury Tales:' the German's 
 Tale. ' Vathek.' The Cave of Ebhs. ' Paul and Virginia.' ' The
 
 g CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Man of Feeling:' La Roche. 'Werner' written in twenty- 
 eight days ; dedication of ' Werner.' Lord Byron's curiosity 
 respecting Goethe. ' Faust :' Coleridge declines translating it . 262-268 
 
 Hobhouse ; commencement of his and Lord Byron's friendsliip ; 
 similarity of pursuits. Dedication of ' Childe Harold.' Lady 
 Charlotte Harley, Lord Byron's lanthe. Hobhouse's disser- 
 tation on Italian literature ; his antiquarian knowledge ; his sen- 
 sibility. Lord Byron's time of and facility for writing ; his few 
 corrections and surprising memory ; his conversational talent ; his 
 unreserve and sincerity ; his impatience of prolixity and distaste for 
 argument ; his tendency to extremes ; his inconsistency in pecu- 
 niary matters 268-272 
 
 Lord Byron's attack of indolence ; his impaired digestion ; addicts 
 himself to wine and Hollands. Alleged source of his inspiration : 
 the true Hippocrene. The Author takes leave of Lord Byron. 
 Sketch of Lord Byron's character. Parallel between Alficri and 
 Lord Byron. The hitter's pride of ancestry, and independence of 
 character; his political sentiments: the Michael Angelo of poetry. 
 True poetical inspiration The poetical merits of Lord Byron's 
 works. Invidious £0O7/0///e// of the Satanic scA 00/ of poetry. The 
 real direction of his Lordship's satire ; his respect for moral liberty ; 
 general tendency of his writings; his defiance of party abuse. 
 Applicability to Lord Byron of Raleigh's monumental inscription 272-277 
 
 The high admiration of the Germans for Lord Byron : Goethe's 
 
 tribute to his genius and memory 277-283 
 
 Appendix.— Copia del Rapporto fatto a sua Eccellenza il Sig. 
 Govcrnatore di Pisa. Secondo Rapporto. Goethe's Beitrag zum 
 Andenken Lord Byron's. Letter from Lord Byron to Monsieur 
 Beyle, chiefly relative to Sir Walter Scott. Some account of 
 Lord Byron's residence in Greece. Last moments of Loi-d Byron. 
 Greek Proclamation on the death of Lord Byron. Funeral ora- 
 tion, from the Greek. Greek Ode to the Memory of Ijord Byron, 
 with Translation 287-345
 
 CONVERSATIONS, 
 
 &c. 
 
 I WENT to Italy late in the autumn of 1821, for the 
 benefit of my health. Lord Byron, accompanied by Mr. 
 Rogers as far as Florence, had passed on a few days 
 before me, and was already at Pisa when I arrived. 
 
 His travelling equipage was rather a singular one, and 
 afforded a strange catalogue for the Dogana: seven ser- 
 vants, five carriages, nine horses, a monkey, a bull-dog 
 and a mastiff, two cats, three pea-fowls and some hens, 
 (I do not know whether I have classed them in order 
 of rank,) formed part of his live stock ; these, and all 
 his books, consisting of a very large library of modern 
 
 B
 
 10 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 works, (for he bought all the best that came out,) toge- 
 ther with a vast quantity of furniture, might well be 
 termed, with Ceesar, " impediments." 
 
 I had long formed a wish to see and be acquainted 
 with Lord Byron; but his known refusal at that time to 
 receive the visits of strangers, even of some who had 
 brought liim letters of introduction from the most inti- 
 mate friend he had, and a prejudice excited against his 
 own countrymen by a late insult, would have deterred 
 me from seeking an interview with him, had not the pro- 
 posal come from himself, in consequence of his hearing 
 Shelley speak of me. 
 
 20th November.—" This is the Lung' Arno : he has 
 hired the Lanfranchi palace for a year. It is one of those 
 marble piles that seem built for eternity, whilst the family 
 whose name it bears no longer exists," said Shelley, as 
 we entered a hall that seemed built for giants. " I re- 
 member the lines in the Inferno," said I : "a Lanfranchi 
 was one of the persecutors of Ugolino." " The same," 
 answered Shelley ; " you will see a picture of Ugohno 
 and his sons in his room. Fletcher, his valet, is as 
 superstitious as his master, and says the house is haunted,
 
 LORD BYRON. H 
 
 SO that he cannot sleep for rumbhng noises overhead, 
 which he compares to the rolHng of bowls. No wonder ; 
 old Lanfranchi's ghost is unquiet, and walks at night." 
 
 The palace was of such size, that Lord Byron only occu- 
 pied the first floor ; and at the top of the staircase leading 
 to it was the English bull-dog, whose chain was long enough 
 to guard the door, and prevent the entrance of strangers ; 
 he, however, knew Shelley, growled, and let us pass. In 
 the anti-room we found several servants in livery, and 
 Fletcher, (whom Shelley mentioned, and of whom I shall 
 have occasion to speak,) who had been in his service from 
 the time he left Harrow. " Like many old servants, he 
 is a privileged person," whispered Shelley. " Don Juan 
 had not a better Leporello, for imitating his master. He 
 says that he is a Laurel struck by a Metre, and when in 
 Greece remarked upon one of the bas-reliefs of the Par- 
 thenon, ' La ! what mantel-pieces these would make, my 
 Lord!'" When we were announced, we found his Lord- 
 ship writing. His reception was frank and kind ; he took 
 me cordially by the hand, and said : 
 
 " You are a relation and schoolfellow of Shelley's — we 
 " do not meet as strangers — you must allow me to con- 
 
 b2
 
 12 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " tinue my letter on account of the post. Here 's some- 
 " thing for you to read, Shelley, (giving him part of 
 " his MS. of 'Heaven and Earth;') tell me what you 
 " think of it." 
 
 During the few minutes that Lord Byron was finishing 
 his letter, I took an opportunity of narrowly observing 
 him, and drawing his portrait in my mind.* Thorwald- 
 sen's bust is too thin-necked and young for Lord Byron. 
 None of the engravings gave me the least idea of him. 
 
 * Being with him, day after day, some time afterwards, whilst he 
 was sitting to Bertolini, the Florentine sculptor, for his bust, I Iiad 
 an opportunity of analyzing his features more critically, but found 
 nothing to alter in my portrait. Bertolini's is an admirable Ukeness, 
 at least was so in the clay model. I have not seen it since it was 
 copied in marble, nor have I got a cast ; he promised Bertolini should 
 send me one. Lord Byron prided himself on his neck ; and it must 
 be confessed that his head was worthy of being placed on it. Ber- 
 toUni destroyed his ehauches more than once before he could please 
 himself. When he had finished, Lord Byron said, 
 
 " It is the last time I sit to sculptor or painter." 
 
 This was on the 4th of January, 1822.
 
 LORD BYRON. 13 
 
 I saw a man of about five feet seven or eight, apparently 
 forty years of age: as was said of Milton, he barely 
 escaped being short and thick. His face was fine, and 
 the lower part symmetrically moulded; for the hps and 
 chin had that curved and definite outhne that distinguishes 
 Grecian beauty. His forehead was high, and his temples 
 broad ; and he had a paleness in his complexion, almost to 
 wanness. His hair, thin and fine, had almost become grey, 
 and waved in natural and graceful curls over his head, that 
 was assimilating itself fast to the "bald first Cesar's." 
 He allowed it to grow longer behind than it is accustomed 
 to be worn, and at that time had mustachios, which were 
 not sufficiently dark to be becoming. In criticising his 
 features it might, perhaps, be said that his eyes were 
 placed too near his nose, and that one was rather smaller 
 than the other ; they were of a greyish brown, but of a 
 peculiar clearness, and when aniinated possessed a fire 
 which seemed to look through and penetrate the thoughts 
 of others, while they marked the inspirations of his own. 
 His teeth were small, regular, and white; these, I after- 
 wards found, he took great pains to preserve.* 
 
 * For this purpose he used tobacco when he first went into the 
 open air ; and he told me he was in the habit of grinding his teeth in
 
 14 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 I expected to discover that he had a club, perhaps a 
 cloven foot ; but it would have been difficult to have dis- 
 tinguished one from the other, either in size or in form. 
 
 On the whole, his figure was manly, and his countenance 
 handsome and prepossessing, and very expressive ; and the 
 familiar ease of his conversation soon made me perfectly at 
 home in his society. Our first interview was marked with 
 a cordiality and confidence that flattered while it delighted 
 me ; and I felt anxious for the next day, in order that I 
 might repeat my visit. 
 
 When I called on his Lordship at two o'clock, he had 
 just left his bed-room, and was at breakfast, if it can be 
 called one. It consisted of a cup of strong green tea, with- 
 out milk or sugar, and an egg, of which he ate the yolk 
 raw. I observed the abstemiousness of his meal. 
 
 " My digestion is weak ; I am too bilious," said he, " to 
 " eat more than once a-day, and generally live on vegeta- 
 
 ns sleep, to prevent which he was forced to put a napkin between 
 them.
 
 LORD BYRON. 15 
 
 « bles. To be sure, I drink two bottles of wine at dinner, 
 " but they form only a vegetable diet. Just now I live on 
 - claret and soda-water. You are just come from Geneva, 
 « Shelley tells me. I passed the best part of the summer 
 '' of 1816 at the Campagna Diodati, and was very nearly 
 " passing this last there. I went so far as to write to 
 '' Hentsh the banker ; but Shelley, when he came to visit 
 " me at Ravenna, gave me such a flattering account of 
 '' Pisa that I changed my mind. Then it is troublesome 
 " to travel so far with so much live and dead stock as I do ; 
 " and I don't like to leave behind me any of my pets that 
 " have been accumulating since I came on the Continent.* 
 '« One cannot trust to strangers to take care of them. You 
 " will see at the farmers some of my pea-fowls en pension. 
 " Fletcher tells me that they are almost as bad fellow-tra- 
 » vellers as the monkey f, which I will shew you." 
 
 * He says afterwards in " Don Juan," canto X, stanza 50 
 « He had a kind of inclination, or 
 
 Weakness, for what most people deem mere vermin. 
 Live animals." 
 t He afterwards bought another monkey in Pisa, in the street, 
 because he saw it ill-used.
 
 16 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Here he led the way to a room, where, after playing 
 with and caressing the creature for some time, he pro- 
 posed a game of billiards. 
 
 I brought the conversation back on Switzerland and 
 his travels, and asked him if he had been in Germany ? 
 
 " No," said he, " not even at Trieste. I hate despot- 
 " ism and the Goths too much. I have travelled little 
 
 on the Continent, at least never gone out of my way. 
 
 This is partly owing to the indolence of my disposition, 
 " partly owing to my incumbrances. I had some idea, when 
 
 at Rome, of visiting Naples, but was at that time anxious 
 " to get back to Venice. But Peestum cannot surpass the 
 " ruins of Agrigentum, which I saw by moonlight ; nor 
 " Naples, Constantinople. You have no conception of 
 " the beauty of the twelve islands where the Turks have 
 " their country-houses, or of the blue Symplegades 
 " against which the Bosphorus beats with such resistless 
 " violence. 
 
 " Switzerland is a country I have been satisfied with 
 " seeing once; Turkey I could live in for ever. I never 
 " forget my predilections. I was in a wretched state of
 
 LORD BYRON. 17 
 
 " health, and worse spirits, when I was at Geneva ; but 
 " quiet and the lake, physicians better than Polidori, soon 
 " set me up. I never led so moral a life as during my 
 " residence in that country; but I gained no credit by 
 " it. Where there is a mortification, there ought to be 
 " reward. On the contrary, there is no story so absurd 
 " that they did not invent at my cost. I was watched by 
 " glasses on the opposite side of the Lake, and by glasses 
 " too that must have had very distorted optics. I was 
 " waylaid in my evening drives — I was accused of cor- 
 " rupting all the griseties in the Rue Basse. I believe 
 " that they looked upon me as a man-monster, worse 
 " than the piqiieur. 
 
 " Somebody possessed Madame de Stael with an opinion 
 " of my immorality. I used occasionally to visit her at 
 " Coppet; and once she invited me to a family-dinner, 
 " and I found the room full of strangers, who had come 
 " to stare at me as at some outlandish beast in a raree- 
 " show. One of the ladies fainted, and the rest looked 
 " as if his Satanic Majesty had been among them. Ma- 
 " dame de Stael took the hberty to read me a lecture 
 " before this crowd; to which I only made her a low 
 " bow. 
 
 c
 
 jg CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I knew very few of the Genevese. Hentsh was very 
 " civil to me; and I have a great respect for Sismondi. 
 " I was forced to return the civihties of one of their Pro- 
 " fessors by asking him, and an old gentleman, a friend 
 " of Gray's, to dine with me. I had gone out to sail 
 " early in the morning, and the wind prevented me from 
 " returninff in time for dinner. 1 understand that I ott'end- 
 " ed them mortally. Polidori did the honours. 
 
 " Among our countrymen I made no new acquaintances ; 
 " Shelley, Monk Lewis, and Hobhouse were almost the 
 " only English people I saw. No wonder; I shewed a 
 " distaste for society at that time, and went little among 
 " the Genevese; besides, I could not speak French. 
 " What is become of my boatman and boat ? I suppose 
 " she is rotten; she was never worth much. When I 
 " went the tour of the Lake in her with Shelley and 
 •' Hobhouse, she was nearly wrecked near the very spot 
 " where St. Preux and Julia were in danger of being 
 " drowned. It would have been classical to have been 
 " lost there, but not so agreeable. Shelley was on the 
 " Lake much oftener than I, at all hours of the night and 
 " day : he almost lived on it ; his great rage is a boat. 
 " We arc both building now at Genoa, I a yacht, and 
 " he an open boat."
 
 LORD BYRON. 19 
 
 We played at billiards till the carriage was announced, 
 and I accompanied him in his drive. Soon after we got oif 
 the stones, we mounted our horses, which were waiting for 
 us. Lord Byron is an admirable horseman, combining grace 
 with the security of his seat. He prides himself much on 
 this exercise. He conducted us for some miles till we came 
 to a farm-house, where he practises pistol-firing every 
 evening. This is his favourite amusement, and may in- 
 deed be called almost a pursuit. He always has pistols in 
 his holster, and eight or ten pair by the first makers in 
 London carried by his courier. We had each twelve 
 rounds of ammunition, and in a diameter of four inches he 
 put eleven out of twelve shots. I observed his hand shook 
 exceedingly. He said that when he first began at Manton's 
 he was the worst shot in the world, and Manton was per- 
 haps the best. The subject turned upon duelling, and 
 he contended for its necessity, and quoted some strong 
 arguments in favour of it. 
 
 " I have been concerned," said he, " in many duels as 
 " second, but only in two as principal ; one was with 
 " Hobhouse before I became intimate with him. The 
 " best marksmen at a target are not the surest in the 
 " field. Cecil's and Stackpoole's affair proved this. They 
 
 c 2
 
 20 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " fought after a quarrel of three years, during which they 
 " were practising daily. Stackpoole was so good a shot 
 " that he used to cut off the heads of the fowls for dinner 
 " as they drank out of the coops about. He had every 
 " wish to kill his antagonist, but he received his death- 
 " blow from Cecil, who fired rather fine, or rather was the 
 " quickest shot of the two. All he said when falling was, 
 
 " ' D n it, have I missed him ?' Shelley is a much 
 
 " better shot than I am, but he is thinking of metaphysics 
 " rather than of firing." 
 
 I understand that Lord Byron is always in better spirits 
 after having culped (as he calls it) the targe often, or hit a 
 five-franc piece, the counterpart of which is always given 
 to the farmer, who is making a little fortune. All the 
 pieces struck, Lord Byron keeps to put, as he says, in his 
 museum. 
 
 We now continued our ride, and returned to Pisa by the 
 Lucca gate. 
 
 " Pisa with its hanging tower and So})hia-like dome re- 
 " minds me," said Lord Byron, " of an eastern place."
 
 LORD BYRON. 21 
 
 He then remarked the heavy smoke that rolled away 
 from the city, spreading in the distance a vale of mist, 
 through which the golden clouds of evening appeared. 
 
 " It is fine, " said Lord Byron, " but no sunsets are to be 
 " compared with those of Venice. They are too gorgeous 
 " for any painter, and defy any poet. My rides, indeed, 
 -' would have been nothing without the Venetian sunsets. 
 " Ask Shelley." 
 
 " Stand on the marble bridge," said Shelley, " cast your 
 eye, if you are not dazzled, on its river glowing as with 
 fire, then follow the graceful curve of the palaces on the 
 Lung' Arno till the arch is naved by the massy dungeon- 
 tower (erroneously called Ugolino's), forming in dark relief, 
 and tell me if any thing can surpass a sunset at Pisa." 
 
 The history of one, is that of almost every day. It is 
 impossible to conceive a more unvaried life than Lord 
 Byron led at this period. I continued to visit him at the 
 same hour daily. Billiards, conversation, or reading, filled 
 up the intervals till it was time to take our evening diive, 
 ride, and pistol-practice. On our return, which was al-
 
 22 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ways in the same direction, we frequently met the 
 Countess Guiccioli, with whom he stopped to converse 
 a few minutes. 
 
 He dined at half an hour after sunset, (at twenty-four 
 o'clock) ; then drove to Count Gamba's, the Countess 
 Guiccioli' s father, passed several hours in her society, re- 
 turned to his palace, and either read or wrote till two or 
 three in the morning ; occasionally drinking spirits diluted 
 with water as a medicine, from a dread of a nephritic 
 complaint, to which he was, or fancied himself, subject. 
 Such was his life at Pisa. 
 
 The Countess Guiccioli is twenty-three years of age, 
 though she appears no more than seventeen or eighteen. 
 Unlike most of the Italian women, her complexion is deli- 
 cately fair. Her eyes, large, dark, and languishing, are 
 shaded by the longest eyelashes in the world ; and her hair, 
 which is ungathered on her head, plays over her falling 
 shoulders in a profusion of natural ringlets of the darkest 
 auburn. Her figure is, perhaps, too much embonpoint for 
 her height, but her bust is perfect ; her features want little 
 of possessing a Grecian regularity of outline ; and she has 
 the most beautiful mouth and teeth imaginable. It is im-
 
 LORD BYRON. 23 
 
 possible to see without admiring — to hear the Guiccioli 
 speak without being fascinated. Her amiabihty and gentle- 
 ness shew themselves in every intonation of her voice, 
 which, and the music of her perfect Italian, give a peculiar 
 charm to every thing she utters. Grace and elegance seem 
 component parts of her nature. Notwithstanding that she 
 adores Lord Byron, it is evident that the exile and poverty 
 of her aged father sometimes affect her spirits, and throw 
 a shade of melancholy on her countenance, which adds to 
 the deep interest this lovely girl creates. 
 
 " Extraordinary pains," said Lord Byron one day, " were 
 " taken with the education of Teresa. Her conversation is 
 " lively, without being frivolous ; without being learned, she 
 " has read all the best authors of her own and the French 
 " language. She often conceals what she knows, from the 
 " fear of being thought to know too much; possibly because 
 " she knows I am not fond of blues. To use an expression 
 " of Jeffrey's, ' If she has blue stockings, she contrives that 
 " her petticoat shall hide them.' " 
 
 Lord Byron is certainly very much attached to lier, 
 without being actually in love. His description of the
 
 24 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Georgioni in the Manfrini palace at Venice is meant for the 
 Countess. The beautiful sonnet prefixed to the Prophecy 
 of Dante was addressed to her ; and I cannot resist copy- 
 ing some stanzas written when he was about to quit Ve- 
 nice to join her at Ravenna, which will describe the state 
 of his feelings at that time. 
 
 " River* that rollest by the ancient walls 
 " Where dwells the lady of my love, when she 
 " Walks by the brink, and there perchance recalls 
 " A faint and fleeting memory of me : 
 
 " What if thy deep and ample stream should be 
 " A mu-ror of my heart, where she may read 
 " The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee, 
 " Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed ? 
 
 " What do I say — a mirror of my heart ? 
 " Are not thy waters sweeping, dark and strong ? 
 " Such as my feelings were and are, thou art ; 
 " And such as thou art, were my passions long. 
 
 * The Po.
 
 LORD BYRON. 25 
 
 " Time may have somewhat tamed them, not for ever ; 
 
 " Thou ovei-flow'st thy banks, and not for aye ; 
 
 " Thy bosom overboils, congenial river ! 
 
 " Thy floods subside ; and mine have sunk away — 
 
 " But left long wrecks behind them, and again 
 
 " Borne on our old unchanged career, we move ; 
 
 " Thou tendest wildly onward to the main, 
 
 " And I to loving one I should not love. 
 
 " The current I behold will sweep beneath 
 
 " Her native walls, and murmur at her feet ; 
 
 " Her eyes will look on thee, when she shall breathe 
 
 " The twilight air, unharm'd by simimer's heat. 
 
 " She will look on thee ; I have look'd on thee, 
 " Full of that thought, and from that moment ne'er 
 " Thy waters could I dream of, name or see, 
 " Without the inseparable sigh for her. 
 
 " Her bright eyes will be imaged in thy stream ; 
 " Yes, they will meet the wave I gaze on now : 
 " Mine cannot witness, even in a dream, 
 " That happy wave repass me in its flow. 
 
 D
 
 26 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " The wave that bears my tears returns no more : 
 " Will she return by whom that wave shall sweep ? 
 " Both tread thy banks, both wander on thy shore ; 
 " I near thy source, she by the dark-blue deep. 
 
 " But that which keepeth us apart is not 
 
 " Distance, nor depth of wave, nor space of earth, 
 
 " But the distraction of a various lot, 
 
 " As various as the climates of our birth. 
 
 " A stranger loves a lady of the land, 
 
 " Born far beyond the mountains, but his blood 
 
 " Is aU meridian, as if never fann'd 
 
 " By the bleak wind that chiUs the polar flood. 
 
 " My blood is aU meridian ; were it not, 
 
 " I had not left my clime ; — I shall not be, 
 
 " In spite of tortures ne'er to be forgot, 
 
 " A slave again of love, at least of thee. 
 
 " 'Tis vain to struggle — let me perish young— 
 
 " Live as I lived, and love as I have loved : 
 
 " To dust if I return, from dust I sprung, 
 
 " And then at least my heart can ne'er be moved."
 
 LORD RVRON. 27 
 
 Calling on Lord Byron one evening after the opera, we 
 happened to talk of Ca-oalieri Serventi, and Italian women ; 
 and he contended that much was to be said in excuse for 
 them, and in defence of the system. 
 
 " We will put out of the question, " said he, " a Cavalier 
 "■ Serventecism ; that is only another term for prostitution, 
 " where the women get all the money they can, and have 
 " (as is the case in all such contracts) no love to give in 
 " exchange. — I speak of another, and of a different service." 
 
 " Do you know how a girl is brought up here ?" conti- 
 nued he. " Almost from infancy she is deprived of the en- 
 " dearments of home, and shut up in a convent till she has 
 " attained a marriageable or marketable age. The father 
 " now looks out for a suitable son-in-law. As a certain 
 " portion of his fortune is fixed by law for the dower of 
 " his children, his object is to find some needy man of 
 " equal rank, or a very rich one, the older the better, who 
 " will consent to take his daughter off his hands, under the 
 " market price. This, if she happen to be handsome, is 
 " not difficult of accomphshment. Objections are seldom 
 " made on the part of the young lady to the age, and per- 
 " sonal or other defects of the intended, who perhaps visits 
 
 D 2
 
 28 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " her once in the parlour as a matter of form or curiosity. 
 " She is too happy to get her hberty on any terms, and he 
 " her money or her person. There is no love on either 
 " side. What happiness is to be expected, or constancy, 
 " from such a liaison ? Is it not natural, that in her inter- 
 " course with a world, of which she knows and has seen no- 
 " thing, and imrestrained mistress of her own time and ac- 
 " tions, she should find somebody to like better, and who 
 " likes her better, than her husband? The Count Guiccioli, 
 " for instance, who is the richest man in Romagna, was sixty 
 " when he married Teresa ; she sixteen. From the first they 
 " had separate apartments, and she always used to call him 
 " Sir. What could be expected from such a preposterous 
 " connexion ? For some time she was an Angiolina, and he 
 " a Marino Faliero, a good old man ; but young women, 
 " and your Italian ones too, are not satisfied with your 
 " good old men. Love is not the same dull, cold, calculat- 
 " ing feeling here as in the North. It is the business, the 
 " serious occupation of their lives ; it is a want, a neces- 
 " sity. Somebody properly defines a woman, ' a creature 
 " that loves.' They die of love ; particularly the Romans : 
 " they begin to love earlier, and feel the passion later than 
 " the Northern people. When I was at Venice, two dowa-
 
 LORD BYRON. 29 
 
 " gers of sixty made love to me.-But to return to the 
 " Guiccioli. The old Count did not object to her avadmg 
 " herself of the privileges of her country; an ItaUan would 
 " have reconciled him to the thing : indeed for some tmie 
 " he winked at our intimacy, but at length made an excep- 
 " tion against me, as a foreigner, a heretic, an Enghshman, 
 " and, what was worse than all, a liberal. 
 
 " He insisted-the Guiccioli was as obstinate ; her family 
 " took her part. Cathohcs cannot get divorces. But, to 
 " the scandal of all Romagna, the matter was at length 
 " referred to the Pope, who ordered her a separate mam- 
 " tenance, on condition that she should reside under her 
 " father's roof. All this was not agreeable, and at length I 
 " was forced to smuggle her out of Ravenna, having dis- 
 " closed a plot laid with the sanction of the Legate for 
 " shutting her up in a convent for life, which she narrowly 
 " escaped.-Except Greece, I was never so attached to any 
 " place in my life as to Ravenna, and but for the failure of 
 " the Constitutionalists and this fracas, should probably 
 " never have left it. The peasantry are the best people 
 '< in the world, and the beauty of their women is extraor- 
 " dinary. Those at TivoU and Frescati, who are so much
 
 30 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " vaunted, are mere Sabines, coarse creatures, compared to 
 " the Romagnese. You may talk of your English women, 
 " and it is true that out of one hundred Italians and Eng- 
 " lish you will find thirty of the latter handsome ; but then 
 " there will be one Italian on the other side of the scale, 
 " who will more than balance the deficit in numbers — one 
 " who, like the Florence Venus, has no rival, and can have 
 " none in the North. 1 have learnt more from the pea- 
 " santry of the countries I have travelled in than from 
 " any other source, especially from the women* : they are 
 " more intelligent, as well as communicative, than the 
 " men. I found also at Ravenna much education and 
 " liberality of thinking among the higher classes. The 
 " climate is delightful. I was unbroken in upon by 
 " society. It lies out of the way of travellers. I was 
 " never tired of my rides in the pine-forest : it breathes 
 " of the Decameron ; it is poetical ground. Francesca 
 
 -" Female hearts are such a genial soil 
 
 For kinder feeling, whatsoe'er their nation. 
 They generally pour the wine and oil, 
 Samaritans in eveiy situation." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto V. Stanza 122.
 
 LORDBYRON. gj 
 
 " lived, and Dante was exiled and died at Ravenna. 
 " There is something inspiring in such an air.* 
 
 " The people liked me, as much as they hated the 
 " Government. It is not a little to say, I was popular 
 " with all the leaders of the Constitutional party. They 
 " knew that I came from a land of liberty, and wished well 
 " to their cause. I would have espoused it too, and as- 
 
 * The following lines will shew the attachment Lord Byron had 
 to the tranquil life he led at Ravenna : 
 
 " Sweet hour of twilight, in the solitude 
 
 " Of the pine forest and the silent shore 
 
 " Which bounds Ravenna's immemorial wood, 
 
 " Rooted where once the Adrian wave flow'd o'er 
 
 " To where the last Caesarean fortress stood, 
 
 " Evergreen forest ! which Boccacio's lore 
 
 " And Dryden's lay made havmted ground to me, 
 
 " How have I loved the twilight horn- and thee ! 
 
 " The shrill cicalas, people of the pine, 
 
 " Making their summer lives one ceaseless song, 
 
 " Were the sole echoes save my steed's and mine, 
 
 " And vesper bell's that rose the boughs among." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto III. Stanza 10-5.
 
 32 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 sisted them to shake off their fetters. They knew my 
 character, for I had been hving two years at Venice, 
 where many of the Raven nese have houses. I did not, 
 however, take part in their intrigues, nor join in their poh- 
 tical coteries ; but I had a magazine of one hundred stand 
 of arms in the house, when every thing was ripe for 
 revolt. A curse on Carignan's imbecihty ! I could have 
 pardoned him that too, if he had not impeached his 
 partisans. The proscription was immense in Romagna, 
 and embraced many of the first nobles : almost all my 
 friends, among the rest the Gamba's, were included in 
 it. They were exiled, and their possessions confiscated. 
 They knew that this must eventually drive me out of the 
 country. I did not follow them immediately; I was not 
 to be bullied. I had myself fallen under the eye of the 
 Government. If they could have got sufficient proof, 
 they would have arrested me : but no one betrayed me ; 
 indeed there was nothing to betray. I had received 
 a very high degree, without passing through the inter- 
 mediate ranks. In that corner you see papers of one of 
 their societies. Shortly after the plot was discovered, I 
 received several anonymous letters, advising me to dis- 
 continue my forest rides ; but I entertained no apprehen- 
 sions of treachery, and was more on horseback than ever.
 
 LORD BYRON. 33 
 
 " I never stir out without being well armed, and sleep 
 " with pistols. They knew that I never missed my aim ; 
 " perhaps this saved me. An event occurred at this time 
 " at Ravenna that made a deep impression on me; I 
 " alluded to it in ' Don Juan.' The military Commandant 
 " of the place, who, though suspected of being secretly 
 " a Carbonaro, was too powerful a man to be arrested, was 
 " assassinated opposite to my palace ; a spot perhaps 
 " selected by choice for the commission of the crime. 
 " The measures which were adopted to screen the mur- 
 " derer prove the assassination to have taken place by 
 " order of the pohce. I had my foot in the stirrup at my 
 " usual hour of exercise, when my horse started at the 
 " report of a gun. On looking up I perceived a man 
 ■> " throw down a carbine and run away at full speed, and 
 " another stretched upon the pavement a few yards from 
 " me. On hastening towards him, I found that it was the 
 " unhappy Commandant. A crowd was soon collected, but 
 " no one ventured to offer the least assistance. I soon 
 " directed my servant to lift up the bleeding body and 
 " carry it into my palace ; but it was represented to me 
 " that by so doing I should confirm the suspicion of being 
 " of his party, and incur the displeasure of the Government. 
 "However, it was no time to calculate between huma- 
 
 E
 
 34 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " nity and danger. I assisted in bearing him into the 
 " house, and putting him on a bed. He was ah-eady dead 
 " from several wounds ; he appeared to have breathed his 
 " last without a struggle. I never saw a countenance so 
 " calm. His adjutant followed the corpse into the house. 
 " I remember his lamentation over him: — ' Povero diavolo! 
 " non aveva fatto male, anche ad un cane.' " 
 
 " I am sorry, " said he, " not to have a copy of my 
 " Memoirs to shew you ; I gave them to Moore, or rather 
 " to Moore's little boy, at Venice. I remember saying, 
 " ' Here are 2000/. for you, my young friend.' I made one 
 " reservation in the gift, — that they were not to be publish- 
 " ed till after my death. # 
 
 " I have not the least objection to their being circulated ; 
 " in fact they have been read by some of mine, and several 
 " of Moore's friends and acquaintances ; among others, 
 " they were lent to Lady Burghersh. On returning the 
 " MS. her Ladyship told Moore that she had transcribed 
 " the whole work. This was un pen fort, and he suggest- 
 " ed the propriety of her destroying the copy. She did 
 " so, by putting it into the fire in his presence. Ever 
 " since this happened, Douglas Kinnaird has been recom-
 
 LORD BYRON. 35 
 
 " mending me to resume possession of the MS., thinking 
 " to frighten me by saying that a spurious or a real copy, 
 " surreptitiously obtained, may go forth to the world. I 
 " am quite indifferent about the world knowing all that 
 " they contain. There are very few hcentious adventures 
 " of my own, or scandalous anecdotes that Avill affect 
 " others, in the book. It is taken up from my earhest 
 " recollections, almost from childhood,— very incoherent, 
 " written in a very loose and famihar style. The second 
 " part will prove a good lesson to young men ; for it treats 
 " of the irregular life I led at one period, and the fatal 
 " consequences of dissipation. There are few parts that 
 " may not, and none that will not, be read by women." 
 
 Another time he said : — 
 
 " A very full account of my marriage and separation is 
 " contained in my Memoirs. After they were completed, 
 " I wrote to Lady Byron, proposing to send them for her 
 " inspection, in order that any mistatements or inaccuracy 
 " (if any such existed, which I was not aware of,) might be 
 " pointed out and corrected. In her answer she declmed 
 " the offer, without assigning any reason ; but desiring, if 
 " not on her account, for the sake of her daughter, that 
 
 E 2
 
 36 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " they might never appear, and finishing with a threat. 
 " My reply was the severest thing I ever wrote, and con- 
 " tained two quotations, one from Shakspeare, and ano- 
 " ther from Dante.* I told her that she knew all I had 
 " written was incontrovertible truth, and that she did not 
 " wish to sanction the truth. I ended by saying, that she 
 " might depend on their being published. It was not till 
 " after this correspondence that I made Moore the depo- 
 " sitary of the MS. 
 
 " The first time of my seeing Miss Millbank was at 
 
 " Lady s. It was a fatal day; and I remember 
 
 " that in going vipstairs I stumbled, and remarked to 
 " Moore, who accompanied me, that it was a bad omen. 
 " I ought to have taken the warning. On entering the 
 " room I observed a young lady, more simply dressed than 
 " the rest of the assembly, sitting alone upon a sofa. I 
 " took her for a humble companion, and asked if I 
 " was right in my conjecture ? ' She is a great heiress,' 
 " said he in a whisper that became lower as he proceeded ; 
 " 'you had better marry her, and repair the old place, 
 " Newstead.' 
 
 * I could not retain them.
 
 LORD BYRON. 37 
 
 " There was something piquant, and what we terra 
 " pretty, in Miss Millbank. Her features were small and 
 " feminine, though not regular. She had the fairest skin 
 " imaginable. Her figure was perfect for her height, and 
 " there was a simplicity, a retired modesty about her, 
 " which was very characteristic, and formed a happy con- 
 " trast to the cold artificial formality, and studied stiffness, 
 " which is called fashion. She interested me exceedingly. 
 " It is unnecessary to detail the progress of our acquaint- 
 " ance. I became daily more attached to her, and it ended 
 " in my making her a proposal that was rejected. Her 
 " refusal was couched in terms that could not offend me. 
 " I was besides persuaded that, in declining my offer, she 
 '• was governed by the influence of her mother ; and was 
 " the more confirmed in this opinion by her reviving our 
 " correspondence herself twelve months after. The tenor 
 " of her letter was, that although she could not love me, 
 " she desired my friendship. Friendship is a dangerous 
 " word for young ladies ; it is Love full-fledged, and 
 " waiting for a fine day to fly. 
 
 " It had been predicted by Mrs. Williams, that twenty- 
 " seven was to be a dangerous age for me. The fortune- 
 " telling witch was right ; it was destined to prove so. I
 
 38 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " shall never forget the 2d of January ! Lady Byron 
 " (Byrn, he pronounced it) was the only unconcerned per- 
 " son present; Lady Noel, her mother, cried; I trembled 
 " like a leaf, made the wrong responses, and after the cere- 
 " mony called her Miss Millbank, 
 
 " There is a singular history attached to the ring. The 
 " very day the match was concluded, a ring of my mo- 
 " ther's, that had been lost, was dug up by the gardener at 
 " Newstead. I thought it was sent on purpose for the 
 " wedding ; but my mother's marriage had not been a 
 " fortunate one, and this ring was doomed to be the seal 
 " of an unhappier union still.* 
 
 " After the ordeal was over, we set off for a country - 
 " seat of Sir Ralph's ; and I was surprised at the arrange- 
 " ments for the journey, and somewhat out of humour to 
 " find a lady's-maid stuck between me and my bride. It 
 " was rather too early to assume the husband ; so I was 
 
 Save the ring. 
 
 \Vliich, being the damned'st part of matrimony — " 
 
 Don Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 70.
 
 LORD BYRON. 39 
 
 " forced to submit, but it was not with a very good grace. 
 " Put yourself in a similar situation, and tell me if I had 
 " not some reason to be in the sulks. I have been ac- 
 " cused of saying, on getting into the carriage, that I had 
 " married Lady Byron out of spite, and because she had 
 " refused me twice. Though I was for a moment vexed 
 " at her prudery, or whatever you may choose to call it, if 
 " I had made so uncavalier, not to say brutal a speech, I 
 " am convinced Lady Byron would instantly have left the 
 " carriage to me and the maid (I mean the lady's). She 
 " had spirit enough to have done so, and would properly 
 " have resented the affront. 
 
 " Our honeymoon was not all sunshine ; it had its 
 " clouds: and Hobliouse has some letters which woidd 
 " serve to explain the rise and fall in the barometer,— but 
 " it was never down at zero. 
 
 " You tell me the world says I married Miss Millbank 
 " for her fortune, because she was a great heiress. All I 
 " have ever received, or am likely to receive, (and that has 
 " been twice paid back too,) was 10,000/. My own income 
 " at this period was small, and somewhat bespoke. New- 
 " stead was a very unprofitable estate, and brought nie in
 
 40 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " a bare 1500/. a-year ; the Lancashire property was 
 " hampered with a law-suit, which has cost me 14,000/., 
 " and is not yet finished. 
 
 " We had a house in town, gave dinner-parties, had 
 " separate carriages, and launched into every sort of 
 " extravagance. This could not last long. My wife's 
 " 10,000/. soon melted away. I was beset by duns, and at 
 " length an execution was levied, and the bailiffs put in 
 " possession of the very beds we had to sleep on. This 
 " was no very agreeable state of affairs, no very pleasant 
 " scene for Lady Byron to witness ; and it was agreed she 
 " should pay her father a visit till the storm had blown 
 " over, and some arrangements had been made with my 
 " creditors. You may suppose on what terms we parted, 
 " from the style of a letter she wrote me on the road : yovi 
 " will think it began ridiculously enough,—' Dear Duck ! '* 
 
 " Imagine my astonishment to receive, immediately on 
 " her arrival in London, a few lines from her father, of a 
 " very dry and unaffectionate nature, beginning ' Sir,' 
 
 * Shelley, who knew this story, used to say these two words 
 would look odd in an Italian translation, Auitra carmima.
 
 LORDBYRON. 41 
 
 " and ending with saying that his daughter should never 
 " see me again. 
 
 " In my reply I disclaimed his authority as a parent 
 " over my wife, and told him I was convinced the senti- 
 " ments expressed were his, not hers. Another post, 
 " however, brought me a confirmation (under her own 
 " hand and seal) of her father's sentence. I afterwards 
 " learnt from Fletcher's (my valet's) wife, who was at that 
 " time femme-de-chambre to Lady Byron, that after her 
 " definite resolution was taken, and the fatal letter con- 
 " signed to the post-office, she sent to withdraw it, and was 
 " in hysterics of joy that it was not too late. It seems, 
 " however, that they did not last long, or that she was 
 " afterwards over-persuaded to forward it. There can be 
 " no doubt that the influence of her enemies prevailed 
 " over her affection for me. You ask me if no cause was 
 " assiffned for this sudden resolution ? — if I formed no 
 " conjecture about the cause ? I will tell you. 
 
 " I have prejudices about women : I do not like to see 
 " them eat. Rousseau makes Julie un pett gourmande ; 
 " but that is not at all according to my taste. I do not 
 " like to be interrupted when I am writing. Lady Byron 
 
 F
 
 42 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " did not attend to these whims of mine. The only harsh 
 " thing I ever remember saying to her was one evening 
 " shortly before our parting. I was standing before the 
 " fire, ruminating upon the embarrassment of my affairs, 
 " and other annoyances, when Lady Byron came up to 
 " me and said, ' Byron, am I in your way ?' to which I 
 " replied, ' damnably!' I was afterwards sorry, and 
 " reproached myself for the expression : but it escaped 
 " me unconsciously — involuntarily; I hardly knew what 
 " I said. 
 
 " I heard afterwards that Mrs. Charlment had been the 
 " means of poisoning Lady Noel's mind against me ; — that 
 " she had employed herself and others in watching me in 
 " London, and had reported having traced me into a house 
 " in Portland-place. There was one act of which I might 
 " justly have complained, and which was unworthy of any 
 " one but such a confidante : I allude to the breaking open 
 " my writing-desk. A book was found in it that did not 
 " do much credit to my taste in literature, and some letters 
 " from a married woman with whom I had been intimate 
 " before my marriage. The use that was made of the latter 
 " was most unjustifiable, whatever may be thought of the
 
 L O R D B Y R O N. 4g 
 
 " breach of confidence that led to their discovery. Lady 
 " Byron sent them to the husband of the lady, who had 
 " the good sense to take no notice of their contents. The 
 " gravest accusation that has been made against me is that 
 " of having intrigued with Mrs. Mardyn in my own house ; 
 " introduced her to my own table, &c. There never was 
 " a more unfounded calumny. Being on the Committee 
 " of Drury-lane Theatre, I have no doubt that several 
 " actresses called on me : but as to Mrs. Mardyn, who was 
 " a beautiful woman, and might have been a dangerous 
 " visitress, I was scarcely acquainted (to speak) with her. 
 
 " I might even make a more serious charge against • 
 
 " than employing spies to watch svispected amours, * 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 ****** * 
 
 ****** « 
 
 " I had been shut up in a dark street in London, writing 
 " (I think he said) ' The Siege of Corinth,' and had refused 
 " myself to every one till it was finished. I was surprised one 
 " day by a Doctor and a Lawyer almost forcing themselves 
 " at the same time into my room. I did not know till after- 
 " wards the real object of their visit. I thought their ques- 
 " tions singular, frivolous, and somewhat importunate, if not 
 
 F 2
 
 44 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " impertinent : but what should I have thought, if I had 
 
 " known that they were sent to provide proofs of my 
 
 " insanity? * * * * 
 
 * * « * * 
 
 « » * * C4-') 
 
 " I have no doubt that my answers to these emissaries' 
 " interrogations were not very rational or consistent, for my 
 
 (f ) " For Inez called some druggists and physicians, 
 " And tried to prove her loving lord was mad ; 
 " But as he had some lucid intermissions, 
 " She next decided he was only bad. 
 " Yet when they ask'd her for her depositions, 
 " No sort of explanation covdd be had, 
 " Save that her duty both to man and God 
 " Required this conduct, — which seem'd very odd. 
 
 " She kept a jomiial where his faults were noted, 
 " And opened certain trunks of books and letters, 
 " All which might, if occasion served, be quoted : 
 " And then she had all Seville for abettors, 
 " Besides her good old grandmother " 
 
 Don Juan, Canto I. Stanzas 27 and 28.
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 45 
 
 " imagination was heated by other things. But Dr. Bailey 
 " could not conscientiously make me out a certificate for 
 " Bedlam ; and perhaps the Lawyer gave a more favoura- 
 " ble report to his employers. The Doctor said afterwards, 
 " he had been told that I always looked down when Lady 
 « Byron bent her eyes on me, and exhibited other symp- 
 " toms equally infallible, particularly those that marked the 
 " late King's case so strongly. I do not, however, tax Lady 
 " Byron with this transaction ; probably she was not privy 
 " to it. She was the tool of others. Her mother always 
 '' detested me ; she had not even the decency to conceal 
 " it in her own house. Dining one day at Sir Ralph's, (who 
 " was a good sort of man, and of whom you may form some 
 " idea, when I tell yovl that a leg of mutton was always 
 " served at his table, that he might cut the same joke upon 
 " it,) I broke a tooth, and was in great pain, which I could 
 "not avoid shewing. 'It will do you good,' said Lady 
 - Noel; ' I am glad of it !' I gave her a look ! 
 
 " You ask if Lady Byron were ever hi love with me— 
 " I have answered that question already-No! I was the 
 " fashion when she first came out : I had the character of 
 " being a great rake, and was a great dandy-both of which 
 " young ladies like. She married me from vanity and the
 
 46 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " hope of reforming and fixing me. She was a spoiled child, 
 " and naturally of a jealous disposition ; and this was in- 
 " creased by the infernal machinations of those in her con- 
 " fidence. 
 
 " She was easily made the dupe of the designing, for 
 " she thought her knowledge of mankind infallible : she 
 " had got some foolish idea of Madame de Stael's into her 
 " head, that a person may be better known in the first hour 
 " than in ten years. She had the habit of drawing people's 
 " characters after she had seen them once or twice. She 
 " wrote pages on pages about my character, but it was as 
 " unhke as possible. 
 
 " Lady Byron had good ideas, but could never express 
 " them ; wrote poetry too, but it was only good by accident. 
 " Her letters were always enigmatical, often unintelligible. 
 " She was governed by what she called fixed rules and 
 " principles, squared mathematically.* She would have 
 " made an excellent wrangler at Cambridge. It must be 
 
 * " I think that Dante's more abstruse ecstatics 
 " Meant to personify the mathematics. 
 
 Don Juan, Canto III. Stanza 11.
 
 LORD BYRON. 47 
 
 " confessed, however, that she gave no proof of her boasted 
 " consistency. First, she refused me, then she accepted 
 " me, then she separated herself from me : — so much for 
 " consistency. I need not tell you of the obloquy and 
 " opprobium that were cast upon my name when our se- 
 " paration was made public. I once made a list from the 
 " Journals of the day, of the different worthies, ancient and 
 " modern, to whom I was compared. I remember a few: 
 " Nero, Apicius, Epicurus, Caligula, Heliogabalus, Henry 
 
 " the Eighth, and lastly the . All my former friends, 
 
 " even my cousin, George Byron, who had been brought up 
 " with me, and whom I loved as a brother, took my wife's 
 " part. He followed the stream when it was strongest 
 " against me, and can never expect any thing from me : he 
 " shall never touch a sixpence of mine. I was looked upon 
 " as the worst of husbands, the most abandoned and 
 " wicked of men, and my wife as a suffering angel — an 
 " incarnation of all the virtues and perfections of the sex. 
 " I was abused in the public prints, made the common talk 
 " of private companies, hissed as I went to the House of 
 " Lords, insulted in the streets, afraid to go to the theatre, 
 " whence the unfortunate Mrs. Mardyn had been driven 
 " with insult. The Examiner was the only paper that
 
 48 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " dared say a word in my defence, and Lady Jersey the 
 " only person in the fashionable world that did not look 
 " upon me as a monster. 
 
 " I once addressed some lines to her that made her my 
 " friend ever after. The subject of them was suggested 
 " by her being excluded from a certain cabinet of the 
 " beauties of the day. I have the lines somewhere, and 
 " will shew them to you. 
 
 " In addition to all these mortifications my affairs were 
 " irretrievably involved, and almost so as to make me what 
 " they wished. I was compelled to part with Newstead, 
 " which I never could have ventured to sell in my mo- 
 " ther's life-time. As it is, I shall never forgive myself 
 " for having done so; though T am told that the estate 
 " would not now bring half as much as I got for it. 
 " This does not at all reconcile me to having parted with 
 " the old abbey.* I did not make up my mind to this 
 
 * The i-egard whicli he entertained for it is proved by the passage 
 in Don Juan, Canto XIII. Stanza 55, beginning thus: 
 
 " To Norman Abbey whirl'd the noble pair," &c.
 
 LORD BYRON. 49 
 
 " Step, but from the last necessity. I had my wife's 
 " portion to repay, and was determined to add 10,000/. 
 " more of my own to it ; which I did. I always hated 
 " being in debt, and do not owe a guinea. The mo- 
 " ment I had put my affairs in train, and in little 
 " more than eighteen months after my marriage, I left 
 " England, an involuntary exile, intending it should be 
 " for ever*." 
 
 Speaking of the multitude of strangers, whose visits 
 of curiosity or impertinence he was harassed by for 
 
 * His feeUngs may be conceived by the two foUowing passages: 
 
 " I can't but say it is an awkward sight, 
 
 « To see one's native land receding through 
 
 « The growing waters— it unmans one quite."— 
 
 Do)i Juan, Canto II. Stanza 12. 
 
 " Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, 
 " With nought of hope left." 
 
 Childe Harold, Canto III. Stanza 16. 
 
 G
 
 50 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 some years after he came abroad, particularly at Venice, 
 he said : 
 
 " Who would wish to make a show-bear of himself, and 
 " dance to any tune any fool likes to play ? Madame de 
 " Stael said, I think of Goethe, that people who did not 
 " wish to be judged by what they said, did not deserve 
 " that the world should trouble itself about what they 
 " thought. She had herself a most unconscionable in- 
 " satiability of talking and shining. If she had talked less, 
 " it would have given her time to have written more, and 
 " would have been better. For my part, it is indifferent 
 " to me what the world says or thinks of me. Let them 
 " know me in my books. My conversation is never 
 " brilliant. 
 
 " Americans are the only people to whom I never 
 " refused to shew myself. The Yankees are great friends 
 " of mine. I wish to be well thought of on the other 
 " side of the Atlantic ; not that I am better appreciated 
 " there, than on this ; perhaps worse. Some American 
 " Reviewer has been persevering in his abuse and per- 
 " sonaUty, but he should have minded his ledger; he
 
 LORD BYRON. 51 
 
 " never excited my spleen.* I was confirmed in my reso- 
 " lution of shutting my door against all the travelling 
 " English by the impertinence of an anonymous scribbler, 
 " who said he might have known me, but would not." 
 
 I interrupted him by telling him he need not have been 
 so angry on that occasion, — that it was an authoress who 
 had been guilty of that remark. " I don't wonder," added 
 I, " that a spinster should have avoided associating with so 
 dangerous an acquaintance as you had the character of 
 being at Venice." 
 
 " Well, I did not know that these ' Sketches of Italy' 
 
 * The taste and critical acumen of the American magazine will 
 appear from the following extract : 
 
 " The verses (it is of the ' Piisoner of Chillon' that it speaks) 
 " are in the eight syllable measure, and occasionally display some 
 " pretty poetry ; at all events, there is little in them to offend. 
 
 " We do not find any passage of sufficient beauty or originality to 
 
 " warrant extract." 
 
 Am. Critical Review, 1817. 
 
 G 2
 
 52 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " were the production of a woman ; but whether it was a 
 " Mr., Mrs., or Miss, the remark was equally uncalled for. 
 " To be sure, the life I led at Venice was not the most 
 " saintlike in the world." 
 
 " Yes," said I, " if you were to be canonized, it must 
 be as San Ciappelletto." 
 
 " Not so bad as that either," said he, somewhat se- 
 riously. 
 
 " Venice," resumed he, " is a melancholy place to reside 
 " in : — to see a city die daily as she does, is a sad contem- 
 " plation. I sought to distract my mind from a sense of 
 " her desolation, and my own solitude, by plunging into 
 " a vortex that was any thing but pleasure. When one 
 " gets into a mill-stream, it is difficult to swim against it, 
 " and keep out of the wheels. The consequences of being 
 " carried down by it would furnish an excellent lesson for 
 " youth. You are too old to profit by it. But, who ever 
 " profited by the experience of others, or his own? When 
 " you read my Memoirs, you will learn the evils, moral and 
 " physical, of true dissipation. I assure you my life is 
 " very entertaining, and very instructive." 
 
 ^^
 
 LORD BYRON. 53 
 
 I said, " I suppose, when you left England, you were a 
 Cliilde Harold, and at Venice a Don Giovanni, and Fletcher 
 your Leporello." He laughed at the remark. I asked 
 him, in what way his life would prove a good lesson ? and 
 he gave me several anecdotes of himself, which I have 
 thrown into a sort of narrative. 
 
 " Almost all the friends of my youth are dead ; either 
 " shot in duels, ruined, or in the galleys:" (mentioning 
 " the names of several.) 
 
 ^ " Among those I lost in the early part of my career, was 
 " Lord Falkland,— poor fellow ! our fathers' fathers were 
 " friends. He lost his life for a joke, and one too he 
 " did not make himself The present race is more steady 
 " than the last. They have less constitution and not so 
 V much money — that accounts for the change in their 
 
 ^ morals. 
 
 " I am now tamed ; but before I married, shewed some 
 " of the blood of my ancestors. It is ridiculous to say 
 " that we do not inherit our passions, as well as the gout, 
 " or any other disorder.
 
 54 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I was not so young when my father died, but that I 
 " perfectly remember him ; and had very early a horror 
 " of matrimony, from the sight of domestic broils : this 
 " feeling came over me very strongly at my wedding. 
 '' Something whispered me that I was sealing my own 
 " death-warrant. I am a great believer in presentiments. 
 " Socrates' daemon was no fiction. Monk Lewis had his 
 " monitor, and Napoleon many warnings. At the last 
 " moment I would have retreated, if I could have done 
 " so. I called to mind a friend of mine, who had mai- 
 " ried a young, beautiful, and rich girl, and yet was 
 " miserable. He had strongly urged me against putting 
 " my neck in the same yoke : and to shew you how firmly 
 " I was resolved to attend to his advice, I betted Hay 
 " fifty guineas to one, that I should always remain single. 
 " Six years afterwards I sent him the money. The day 
 " before I proposed to Lady Byron, I had no idea of 
 " doing so." 
 
 After this digression he continued : — 
 
 " I lost my father when I was only six years of age. 
 " My mother, when she was in a rage with me, (and I 
 " gave her cause enough,) used to say, ' Ah, you little 
 " dog, you are a Byron all over ; you are as bad as
 
 LORD BYRON. 55 
 
 " your father!' It was very different from Mrs. 
 " Malaprop's saying, 'Ah! good dear Mr. Malaprop, I 
 " never loved him till he was dead.' But, in fact, my 
 " father was, in his youth, any thing but a 'Ca^lebs 
 " in search of a wife.' He would have made a bad 
 " hero for Hannah More. He ran out three fortunes, 
 " and married or ran away with three women, and once 
 " wanted a guinea, that he wrote for; I have the note. 
 " He seemed born for his own ruin, and that of the 
 " other sex. He began by seducing Lady Carmarthen, 
 " and spent for her 4000/. a-year ; and not content with 
 " one adventure of this kind, afterwards eloped with Miss 
 " Gordon. His marriage was not destined to be a very 
 " fortunate one either, and I don't wonder at her differing 
 " from Sheridan's widow in the play. They certainly 
 " could not have claimed the flitch. 
 
 " The phrenologists tell me that other lines besides 
 " that of thought, (the middle of three horizontal lines 
 " on his forehead, on which he prided himself,) are 
 " strongly developed in the hinder part of my cra- 
 " nium ; particularly that called philoprogenitiveness *. I 
 
 * He appears to have mistaken the meaning of this word in the 
 vocabulary of the Cianiologists, as in Don Juan.
 
 56 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " suppose, too, the pugnacious bump might be found 
 " somewhere, because my uncle had it. 
 
 " You have heard the unfortunate story of his duel 
 " with his relation and neighbour. After that melan- 
 " choly event, he shut himself up at Newstead, and 
 " was in the habit of feeding crickets, which were 
 " his only companions. He had made them so tame 
 " as to crawl over him, and vised to whip them with 
 " a whisp of straw, if too familiar. When he died, 
 " tradition says that they left the house in a body. 
 " I suppose I derive my superstition from this branch 
 " of the family ; but though I attend to none of these 
 " new-fangled theories, I am inclined to thhik that there 
 " is more in a chart of the skull than the Edinburgh 
 " Reviewers suppose*. However that may be, I was a 
 " wayward youth, and gave my mother a world of trou- 
 " ble,— as I fear Ada will her's, for I am told she is a 
 " little termagant. I had an ancestor too that expired 
 " laughing, (I suppose that my good spirits came from 
 " him,) and two whose aifection was such for each 
 " other, that they died almost at the same moment. 
 
 * He had probably been reading the article on Gall and Spurzheim.
 
 L O R D B Y R O N. 57 
 
 " There seems to have been a flaw in my escutcheon 
 " there, or that loving couple have monopolized all the 
 " connubial bliss of the family. 
 
 " I passed my boyhood at Marlodge near Aberdeen, 
 " occasionally visiting the Highlands ; and long retained an 
 " affection for Scotland ; — that, I suppose, I imbibed from 
 " my mother. My love for it, however, was at one time 
 " much shaken by the critique in ' The Edinburgh Review' 
 " on ' The Hours of Idleness,' and I transferred a portion 
 " of my dislike to the country; but my affection for it soon 
 " flowed back into its old channel. 
 
 " I don't know from whom I inherited verse-making; 
 " probably the wild scenery of Morven and Loch-na-garr, 
 " and the banks of the Dee, were the parents of my poe- 
 " tical vein, and the developers of my poetical boss. If it 
 '•' was so, it was dormant ; at least, I never wrote any thing 
 " worth mentioning till I was in love. Dante dates his 
 
 Note. — He wrote about this time ' The Curse of Minerva ;' in 
 which he seems very closely to have followed Clnuchill. 
 He came to England in 1798. 
 
 H
 
 58 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " passion for Beatrice at twelve. I was almost as young 
 " when I fell over head and ears in love ; but I anticipate. 
 " I was sent to Harrow at twelve, and spent my vacations 
 " at Newstead. It was there that I first saw Mary C *. 
 
 -" It was a name 
 
 " Which pleased him, and yet pleased him not ; — and why ? 
 
 " Time taught him a deep answer." 
 
 The Dream. 
 
 " I have a passion for the name of ' Mary,' 
 
 " For once it was a magic sound to me ; 
 
 " And still it half calls up the realms of fairy, 
 
 " Where I beheld what never was to be. 
 
 " All feelings changed, but this was last to vary — 
 
 " A spell from which even yet I am not quite free. 
 
 " But I grow sad !" 
 
 Don Juan, Canto V. Stanza 4. 
 
 " Yet stiU, to pay my court, I 
 
 Gave what I had — a heart : — as the world went, I 
 Gave what was worth a world,^ — ^for worlds could never 
 Restore inc the pure feelings gone for ever ! 
 
 " 'Twas
 
 L O R D B Y R O N. 59 
 
 " She was several years older than myself: but, at my age, 
 " boys like something older than themselves, as they do 
 " younger, later in life. Our estates adjoined: but, owing 
 " to the unhappy circumstance of the feud to which I before 
 *' alluded, our families (as is generally the case with neigh- 
 " hours who happen to be relations,) were never on terms 
 " of more than common civility, — scarcely those. I passed 
 " the summer vacation of this year among the Malvern 
 " hills : those were days of romance ! She was the beau 
 " ideal of all that my youthful fancy could paint of beau- 
 " tiful ; and I have taken all my fables about the celestial 
 " nature of women from the perfection my imagination 
 " created in her — I say created, for I found her, Uke the 
 " rest of the sex, any thing but angelic. 
 
 " I returned to Harrow, after my trip to Cheltenham, 
 " more deeply enamoured than ever, and passed the next 
 " holidays at Newstead. I now began to fancy myself a 
 
 " 'Twas the boy's ' mite,' and, like the ' widow's,' may, 
 " Perhaps, be weighed hereafter, if not now." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto VI. Stanza 5, &c. 
 H 2
 
 00 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " man, and to make love in earnest. Our meetings were 
 " stolen ones, and my letters passed through the medium 
 
 " of a confidante. A gate leading from Mr. C 's 
 
 " grounds to those of my mother, was the place of our 
 " interviews. But the ardour was all on my side. I was 
 " serious ; she was volatile. She hked me as a younger 
 " brother, and treated and laughed at me as a boy. She, 
 " however, gave me her picture, and that was something 
 " to make verses upon.* 
 
 " During the last year that I was at Harrow, all my 
 " thoughts were occupied on this love-affair. I had, 
 " besides, a spirit that ill brooked the restraints of school- 
 " discipline ; for I had been encouraged by servants in all 
 " my violence of temper, and was used to command. 
 
 * He had always a black ribbon round his neck, to which was 
 attached a locket containing hau- and a picture. We had been play- 
 ing at billiards one night till the balls appeared double, when all 
 at once he searched hastily for something under his waistcoat, 
 
 and said, in great alarm, " Good God ! I have lost my !" 
 
 hut before he had finished the sentence, he discovered the hidden 
 treasure.
 
 L R D B Y R O N. g J 
 
 Every thing like a task was repugnant to my nature ; 
 and I came away a very indifferent classic, and read in 
 nothing that was useful. That subordination, which is 
 the soul of all discipline, I submitted to with great diffi- 
 culty ; yet I did submit to it : and I have always retained 
 a sense of Drury's * kindness, which enabled me to bear it 
 and fagging too. The Duke of Dorset was my fag. I 
 was not a very hard task-master. There were times in 
 which, if I had not considered it as a school, I should 
 have been happy at Harrow. There is one spot I should 
 like to see again : I was particularly delighted with the 
 view from the Church-yard, and used to sit for hours on 
 the stile leading into the fields ; — even then I formed a 
 wish to be buried there. Of all my schoolfellows, I know 
 no one for whom I have retained so much friendship as 
 for Lord Clare. I have been constantly corresponding 
 with liim ever since I knew he was in Italy; and look for- 
 ward to seeing him, and talking over with him our old 
 Harrow stories, with infinite delight. There is no plea- 
 sure in life equal to that of meeting an old friend. You 
 know how glad I was to see Hay. Why did not Scroope 
 
 * See Lines addressed to him in ' The Hours of Idleness.'
 
 62 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Davies come to see me ? Some one told me that he was 
 '' at Florence, but it is impossible. 
 
 " There are two things that strike me at this moment, 
 " which I did at Harrow: I fought Lord Calthorpe for 
 " writing ' D — d Atheist !' under my name ; and prevented 
 " the school-room from being burnt during a rebellion, by 
 " pointing out to the boys the names of their fathers and 
 " grandfathers on the walls. 
 
 " Had I married Miss C , perhaps the whole tenor 
 
 " of my life would have been different.* She jilted me, 
 " however, but her marriage proved any thing but a happy 
 
 " one.-f- She was at length separated from Mr. M , 
 
 " and proposed an interview with me, but by the advice 
 " of my sister I declined it. I remember meeting her 
 
 * Perhaps in his lyrical pieces, even those ' To Thyrza,' he never 
 surpassed those exquisitely feeling Stanzas, beginning — 
 
 " O had my fate been join'd to thine," &c. 
 
 f " the one 
 
 " To end in madness ; both in misery." 
 
 The Dream.
 
 LORD BYRON. 63 
 
 " after my return from Greece, but pride had conquered 
 " ray love; and yet it was not with perfect indifference I 
 " saw her.* 
 
 " For a man to become a poet (witness Petrarch and 
 " Dante) he must be in love, or miserable. I was both 
 " when I wrote the ' Hours of Idleness ; ' some of those 
 " poems, in spite of what the reviewers say, are as good 
 " as any I ever produced. 
 
 " For some years after the event that had so much in- 
 " fluence on my fate, I tried to drown the remembrance of 
 " it and her in the most depraving dissipation ;f but the 
 " poison was in the cup. * 
 
 * * # * * 
 
 * 
 
 * Yet I was cabn. I knew the time 
 My heart would swell but at thy look ; 
 But now to tremble were a crime. 
 We met, and not a nerve was shook ! 
 
 f " And monks might deem their time was come agen 
 " If ancient tales say true, nor wrong the holy men." 
 
 Cliilde Harold, Canto I. Stanza 7.
 
 64 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " There had been found by the gardener, in digging, n 
 " skull that had probably belonged to some jolly friar or 
 " monk of the Abbey about the time it was dis-monas- 
 " teried." 
 
 " I heard at the Countess S 's the other evening," 
 
 said I, interrupting him, " that you drink out of a skull 
 now." He took no notice of mv observation, but con- 
 tinned : 
 
 " Observing it to be of giant size, and in a perfect state 
 " of preservation, a strange fancy seized me of having it set 
 " and mounted as a drinking-cup. I accordingly sent it to 
 " town, and it returned with a very high polish, and of a 
 " mottled colour like tortoise-shell ; (Colonel Wildman now 
 " has it.) I remember scribbling some lines about it ; but 
 " that was not all : I afterwards established at the Abbey a 
 " new order. The members consisted of twelve, and I 
 " elected myself grand master, or Abbot of the Skull, a 
 " grand heraldic title. A set of black gowns, mine dis- 
 " tinguished from the rest, was ordered, and from time to 
 " time, when a particular hard day was expected, a chapter 
 " was held; the crane was filled with claret, and, in imi- 
 " tation of the Goths of old, passed about to the gods of
 
 LORD BY II ON. g.5 
 
 " the Consistory, whilst many a prime jote was cut at 
 " its expense." 
 
 " You seem," said I, " to have had a particular predilec- 
 tion for skulls and cross-bones ; a friend of mine, Mr. -, 
 
 told me he took some home for you from Switzerland." 
 
 " They were from the field of Morat," said he; " a single 
 " bone of one of those heroes is worth all the skulls of all 
 " the priests that ever existed." 
 
 " Talking of Morat," said I, " where did you find the 
 story of Julia Alpinula ? M — and I searched among its 
 archives in vain." 
 
 " I took the inscription," said he, " from an old chroni- 
 
 " cle ; the stone has no existence But to continue. You 
 
 " know the story of the bear that I brought up for a degree 
 " when I was at Trinity. I had a great hatred of College 
 " rules, and contempt for academical honours. How many 
 " of their wranglers have ever distinguished themselves 
 " in the world? There was, by the bye, rather a witty 
 " satire founded on my bear. A friend of Shelley's made 
 " an Ourang Outang (Sir Oran Ilaut-ton) the hero of a 
 
 I
 
 66 CONVERSATIONS or 
 
 " novel, had him created a baronet, and returned for the 
 " borough of One Vote — I forget the name of the novel *. 
 " I believe they were as glad to get rid of me at Cam- 
 " bridge -f- as they were at Harrow. 
 
 " Another of the wild freaks I played during my mother's 
 
 " life-time, was to dress up Mrs. , and to pass her off 
 
 " as my brother Gordon, in order that my mother might 
 " not hear of my having such a female acquaintance. You 
 " would not think me a Scipio in those days, but I can 
 " safely say I never seduced any woman. I will give 
 
 " you an instance of great forbearance: — Mrs, L. G 
 
 " wrote and offered to let me have her daughter for 100/. 
 
 ," Can you fancy such depravity ? The old lady's P. S. 
 " was excellent. ' With dUicuci every thing may be 
 " made asy.' But the same post brought me a letter from 
 ." the young one, deprecating my taking advantage of their 
 
 ' " necessities, and ending with saying that she prized her 
 " virtue. I respected it too, and sent her some money. 
 " There are few Josephs in the world, and many Poti- 
 " phar's wives. 
 
 * Melincourt. 
 f He remained at Cambridge till nineteen.
 
 LORDBYJION. 67 
 
 " A curious thing happened to me shortly after the 
 " honey-moon, which was very awkward at the time, but 
 " has since amused me much. It so happened that 
 " three married women were on a wedding visit to my 
 " wife, (and in the same room, at the same time,) whom 
 " I had known to be all birds of the same nest. Fancy 
 " the scene of confusion that ensued ! 
 
 " I have seen a great deal of Italian society, and swum 
 " in a gondola, but nothing could equal the profligacy of 
 
 " high life in England, especially that of when I 
 
 i,*' knew it. 
 
 " There was a lady at that time, double my own age, 
 " the mother of several children who were perfect angels, 
 " with whom I had formed a liaison that continued without 
 " interruption for eight months. The autumn of a beauty 
 " like her's is preferable to the spring in others. She told 
 " me she was never in love till she was thirty; and I 
 " thought myself so with her, when she was forty, I 
 " never felt a stronger passion ; which she returned with 
 " equal ardour. I was as fond of, indeed more attached 
 " than I ought to have been, to one who had bestowed her 
 " favours on many ; but I was flattered at a preference that 
 
 i2
 
 68 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " had led her to discard another, who in personal at- 
 " tractions and fashion was far my superior. She had 
 " been sacrificed, almost before she was a woman, to one 
 " whose mind and body were equally contemptible in the 
 " scale of creation ; and on whom she bestowed a numerous 
 " flmiily, to which the law gave him the right to be called 
 " father. Strange as it may seem, she gained (as all wo- 
 " men do) an influence over me so strong, that I had 
 " great difficulty in breaking with her, even wlien I knew 
 " she had been inconstant to me ; and once was on the 
 " point of going abroad with her,^ — and narrowly escaped 
 " this folly. I was at this time a mere Bond-street 
 " lounger— a great man at lobbies, coffee, and gambling- 
 " houses : my afternoons were passed in visits, luncheons, 
 " lounging and boxing — not to mention drinking! If I 
 " had known you in early life, you would not have been 
 
 " alive now, I remember Scroope Davies, H^ , and my- 
 
 " self, clubbing 19/., all we had in our pockets, and losing it 
 " at a hell in St. James's-street, at chicken-hazard, which 
 " may be called /bsy/; and afterwards getting drunk toge- 
 " ther till H. and S. D. quarrelled. Scroope afterwards 
 " wrote to me for my pistols to shoot himself; but I de- 
 " clined lending them, on the plea that they would be for- 
 " feited as a deodand. 1 knew my answer would have 
 " more effect than four sides of prosing.
 
 LORD BYRON. gg 
 
 " Don't suppose, however, that 1 took any pleasure in 
 " all these excesses, or that parson A.K. or W— were asso- 
 *' elates to my taste. The miserable consequences of such 
 " a life are detailed at length in my Memoirs. My own 
 " master at an age when I most required a guide, and left to 
 " the dominion of my passions when they were the strong- 
 " est, with a fortune anticipated before I came into posses- 
 " sion of it, and a constitution impaired by early excesses, I 
 " commenced my travels in 1809, with a joyless indifference 
 " to a world that was all before me*." 
 
 " Well might you say, speaking feelingly," said I : — 
 " There is no sterner moralist than pleasure f." 
 
 * " I wish they knew the life of a young noble ; 
 
 ****** 
 
 " They 're young, but know not youth : it is anticipated ; 
 
 " Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou ; 
 
 " Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated, 
 
 " Their cash come?, from, their wealth goes to a ^ew." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto XI. Stanzas 74 and 75. 
 
 t He used to say there were three great men ruined in one year, 
 Brummel, himself, and Napoleon !
 
 70 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 I asked him about Venice : 
 
 " Venice ! " said he, " I detest every recollection of the 
 " place, the people, and my pursuits. I there mixed again 
 " in society, trod again the old round of conversaziones, 
 " balls, and concerts, was every night at the opera, a con- 
 " stant frequenter of the Ridotta during the Carnival, and, 
 " in short, entered into all the dissipation of that luxurious 
 " place. Every thing in a Venetian life, — its gondolas, 
 " its effeminating indolence, its Siroccos, — tend to ener- 
 " vate the mind and body. My rides were a resource and 
 " a stimulus ; but the deep sands of Lido broke my horses 
 " down, and I got tired of that monotonous sea-shore ; — to 
 " be sure, I passed the Villagiatura on the Brenta.* 
 
 * To give the reader an idea of the stories circidated and believed 
 about Lord Byron, I will state one as a specimen of the rest, which 
 I heard the other day : — 
 
 " Lord Byron, who is an execrably bad horseman, was riding one 
 evening in the Brenta, spouting ' Metastasio.' A Venetian, passing 
 in a close carriage at the time, laughed at his bad ItaUan ; upon which 
 his Lordship horsewhipped liim, and threw a card in at the window. 
 The nobleman took no notice of the insidt." — Answer. Lord 
 Byron was an excellent horseman, never read a line of ' Metastasio,'
 
 LORD BYRON. 7I 
 
 " I wrote little at Venice, and was forced into the search 
 " of pleasure, — an employment I was soon jaded with the 
 " pursuit of. 
 
 " Women were there, as they have ever been fated to 
 " be, my bane. Like Napoleon, I have always had a great 
 " contempt for women ; and formed this opinion of them 
 " not hastily, but from my own fatal experience. My 
 " writings, indeed, tend to exalt the sex ; and my imagina- 
 " tion has always delighted in giving them a beau idSal 
 " hkeness, but I only drew them as a painter or statuary 
 " would do, — as they should be.* Perhaps my prejudices, 
 "■ and keeping them at a distance, contributed to prevent 
 " the illusion from altogether being worn out and destroy- 
 " ed as to their celestial qualities. 
 
 and pronounced Italian like a native. He must have been remark- 
 ably ingenious to horsewhip in a close carriage, and find a noble- 
 man who pocketed the affront ! But " e.v uno disce omnesr 
 
 * His ' Medora, Gulnare (Kaled), Zuleika, Thyrza, AngioUna, 
 Myrrha, Adah, — and Haidee,' in Don Juan, are beautiful creations of 
 gentleness, sensibility, firmness, and constancy. If, as a reviewer has 
 sagely discovered, all his male characters, from Childe Harold down 
 to Lucifer, are the same, he cannot be denied the diamatic faciUty in 
 his women, — in whom there is Uttle family likeness.
 
 72 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 '* They are in an unnatural state of society. The Turks 
 " and Eastern people manage these matters better than we 
 " do. They lock them up, and they are much happier. 
 " Give a woman a looking-glass and a few sugar-plums, 
 " and she will be satisfied. 
 
 " I have suffered from the other sex ever since I can 
 " remember any thing. I began by being jilted, and 
 " ended by being unwived. Those are wisest who make 
 " no connexion of wife or mistress. The ^-night-service of 
 " the Continent, with or without the k, is perhaps a sla- 
 " very as bad, or worse, than either. An intrigue with 
 " a married woman at home, though more secret, is 
 " equally difficult to break. I had no tie of any kind at 
 " Venice, yet I was not without my annoyances. You 
 " may remember seeing the portrait of a female which 
 " Murray got engraved, and dubbed my ' Fornarina.' 
 
 " Harlowe, the poor fellow who died soon after his 
 " return from Rome, and who used to copy pictures from 
 " memory, took my likeness when he was at Venice : and 
 " one day this frail one, who was a casual acquaintance of 
 " mine, happened to be at my palace, and to be seen by 
 " the painter, who was struck with her, and begged she
 
 LORD BYRON. 73 
 
 " might sit to him. She did so, and I sent the drawing home 
 " as a specimen of the Venetians, and not a bad one either; 
 " for the jade was handsome, though the most troublesome 
 " shrew and termagant I ever met with. To give you an 
 " idea of the lady, she used to call me the Gran Cane della 
 " Madonna. When once she obtained a footing inside my 
 " door, she took a dislike to the outside of it, and I had 
 " great difficulty in uncolonizing her. She forced her way 
 " back one day when I was at dinner, and snatching a knife 
 " from the table, offered to stab herself if I did not consent 
 " to her stay. Seeing I took no notice of her threat, 
 " as knowing it to be only a feint, she ran into the balcony 
 " and threw herself into the canal. As it was only knee- 
 " deep and there were plenty of gondolas, one of them 
 " picked her up. This affair made a great noise at the 
 " time. Some said that I had thrown her into the water, 
 " others that she had drowned herself for love ; but this is 
 " the real story. 
 
 " I got into nearly as great a scrape by making my court 
 " to a spinster. As many Dowagers as you please at Ve- 
 " nice, but beware of flirting with Raggazzas. I had been 
 " one night under her window serenading, and the next 
 " morning who should be announced at the same time but
 
 74 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " a priest and a police officer, come, as I thought, either to 
 " shoot or marry me again, — I did not care which. I was 
 " disgusted and tired with the hfe I led at Venice, and was 
 " glad to turn my back on it. The Austrian Government, 
 '.* too, partly contributed to drive me away. They inter- 
 " cepted my books and papers, opened my letters, and 
 " proscribed my works. I was not sorry for this last arbi- 
 ''i trary act, as a very bad translation of ' Childe Harold' had 
 " just appeared, which I was not at all pleased with. I 
 " did not like my old friend in his new loose dress ; it was 
 " a dishabille that did not at all become him, — those sciolti 
 " versi that they put him into." 
 
 It is difficult to judge, from the contradictory nature of 
 his writings, what the religious opinions of Lord Byron 
 really were. Perhaps the conversations I held with him 
 may throw some light upon a subject that cannot fail to 
 excite curiosity. On the whole, I am inchned to think that 
 if he were occasionally sceptical, and thought it, as he says, 
 
 " A pleasant voyage, perhaps, to float, 
 
 " Like Pyrrho, on a sea of speculation," * 
 
 * Don Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 18.
 
 I,ORD BYRON. 75 
 
 yet his wavering never amounted to a disbelief in the 
 divine Founder of Christianity. 
 
 " I always took great delight," observed he, " m the 
 " English Cathedral service. It cannot fail to inspire 
 " every man, who feels at all, with devotion. Notwith- 
 " standing which, Christianity is not the best source of in- 
 " spiration for a poet. No poet should be tied down to a 
 " direct profession of faith. Metaphysics open a vast field ; 
 " Nature, and anti-Mosaical speculations on the origin of 
 " the world, a wide range, and sources of poetry that are 
 " shut out by Christianity." 
 
 I advanced Tasso and Milton. 
 
 " Tasso and Milton," rephed he, " wrote on Christian 
 " subjects, it is true ; but how did they treat them ? The 
 " ' Jerusalem Delivered ' deals little in Christian doctrines, 
 " and the ' Paradise Lost ' makes use of the heathen my- 
 " thology, which is surely scarcely allowable. Milton dis- 
 " carded papacy, and adopted no creed in its room ; he 
 " never attended divine worship. 
 
 K 2
 
 76 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 '■ His great epics, that nobody reads, prove nothing. 
 " He took his text from the Old and New Testaments. 
 " He shocks the severe apprehensions of the Cathohcs, as 
 " he did those of the Divines of his day, by too great a 
 " famiharity with Heaven, and the introduction of the 
 " Divinity himself; and, more than all, by making the 
 " De^^l his hero, and deifying the daemons, 
 
 " He certainly excites compassion for Satan, and en- 
 " deavours to make him out an injured personage— he gives 
 " him human passions too, makes him pity Adam and Eve, 
 " and justify himself much as Prometheus does. Yet 
 " Milton was never blamed for all this. I should be very 
 " curious to know what his real belief was.* The 'Paradise 
 " Lost' and ' Regained' do not satisfy me on this point. 
 " One might as well say that Moore is a fire- worshipper, 
 " or a follower of Mokanna, because he chose those sub- 
 " jects from the East ; or that I am a Cainist." 
 
 Another time he said : 
 
 * A religions work of Milton's has since been discovered, and will 
 throw light on this interesting subject.
 
 LORD BYRON. 77 
 
 " One mode of worship yields to another ; no rehgion 
 " has lasted more than two thousand years. Out of the 
 " eight hundred millions that the globe contains, only 
 " two hundred millions are Christians. Query, — What is 
 " to become of the six hundred millions that do not be- 
 " lieve, and of those incalculable millions that lived before 
 " Christ? 
 
 " People at home are mad about Missionary Societies, 
 ' and missions to the East. I have been applied to, to 
 ' subscribe, several times since, and once before I left Eng- 
 ' land. The Catholic priests have been labouring hard for 
 ' nearly a century ; but what have they done ? Out of 
 ' eighty millions of Hindoos, how many proselytes have 
 ' been made ? Sir J. Malcolm said at Murray's before 
 ' several persons, that the Padres, as he called them, had 
 ' only made six converts at Bombay during his time, and 
 ' that even this black little flock forsook their shepherds 
 ' when the rum was out. Their faith evaporated with the 
 ' fumes of the arrack. Besides, the Hindoos believe that 
 ' they have had nine incarnations : the Missionaries 
 ' preach, that a people whom the Indians only know to 
 ' despise, have had one. It is nine to one against them, 
 ' by their own shewing.
 
 78 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Another doctrine can never be in repute among the 
 " Solomons of the East. It cannot be easy to persuade men 
 " who have had as many wives as they pleased, to be con- 
 " tent with one ; besides, a woman is old at twenty in that 
 " country. What are men to do ? They are not all St. 
 " Anthonies. — I will tell you a story. A certain Signior 
 " Antonio of my acquaintance married a very little round 
 " fat wife, very fond of waltzing, who went by the name of 
 " the Tentazione di Sant' Antonio. There is a picture, a 
 " celebrated one, in which a little woman not unresembling 
 " my description plays the principal role, and is most 
 " troublesome to the Saint, most trying to his virtue. 
 " Very few of the modern saints will have his forbearance, 
 *' though they may imitate him in his martyrdom. 
 
 " I have been reading," said he one day, " Tacitus' ac- 
 " count of the siege of Jerusalem, under Titus. What a 
 " sovereign contempt the Romans had for the Jews ! Their 
 " country seems to have been Uttle better than themselves. 
 
 " Priestley denied the original sin, and that any would 
 " be damned. Wesley, the object of Southey's panegyric, 
 " preached the doctrines of election and faith, and, like all 
 " the sectarians, does not want texts to prove both.
 
 LORD BYRON. 79 
 
 " The best Christians can never be satisfied of their own 
 " salvation. Dr. Johnson died Uke a coward, and Cow- 
 " per was near shooting himself ; Hume went off the stage 
 " like a brave man, and Voltaire's last moments do not 
 " seem to have been clouded by any fears of what was to 
 " come. A man may study any thing till he believes in 
 " it. Creech died a Lucretian, Burckhardt and Browne 
 " were Mohammedans. Sale, the translator of the Koran, 
 " was suspected of being an Islamite, but a very different 
 " one from you, Shiloh*, (as he sometimes used to call 
 " Shelley.) 
 
 " You are a Protestant — you protest against all religions. 
 
 " There is T will traduce Dante till he becomes a 
 
 " Dantist. I am called a Manichaean : I may rather be 
 " called an Any-chaean, or an Anything-arian. How do you 
 " like my sect ? The sect of Anything-arians sounds well, 
 " does it not ?" 
 
 Calling on him the next day, we found him, as was some- 
 times the case, silent, dull, and sombre. At length he 
 said : — 
 
 * Alluding to the * Revolt of Islam.'
 
 80 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Here is a little book somebody has sent me about 
 " Christianity, that has made me very vmcomfortable : the 
 " reasoning seems to me very strong, the proofs are very 
 " staggering. I don't think you can answer it, Shelley ; at 
 " least I am sure I can't, and, what is more, I don't 
 " wish it. " 
 
 Speaking of Gibbon, he said : — 
 
 " L B thought the question, set at rest in 
 
 " the ' History of the Decline and Fall,' but I am not so 
 " easily convinced. It is not a matter of volition to un- 
 " believe. Who likes to own that he has been a fool all 
 " his life,— to unlearn all that he has been taught in his 
 " youth ? or can think that some of the best men that ever 
 " lived have been fools ? I have often wished I had been 
 " born a Catholic. That purgatory of theirs is a comfort- 
 " able doctrine ; 1 wonder the reformers gave it up, or did 
 " not substitute something as consolatory in its room. It 
 " is an improvement on the transmigration, Shelley, which 
 " all your wiseacre philosophers taught. 
 
 " You believe in Plato's three principles ; — why not in 
 " the Trinity ? One is not more mystical than the other.
 
 LORD BYRON. 81 
 
 " I don't know why I am considered an enemy to religion, 
 " and an unbeliever. I disowned the other day that I 
 " was of Shelley's school in metaphysics, though I admired 
 " his poetry ; not but what he has changed his mode of 
 " thinking very much since he wrote the Notes to ' Queen 
 " Mab,' which I was accused of having a hand in. I know, 
 " however, that I am considered an infidel. My wife and 
 " sister, when they joined parties, sent me prayer-books. 
 " There was a Mr. Mulock, who went about the Conti- 
 " nent preaching orthodoxy in politics and religion, a 
 " writer of bad sonnets, and a lecturer in worse prose,— 
 " he tried to convert me to some new sect of Chris- 
 " tianity. He was a great anti-materialist, and abused 
 " Locke." 
 
 On another occasion he said : 
 
 " I am always getting new correspondents. Here are 
 " three letters just arrived, from strangers all of them. 
 " One is from a French woman, who has been writing to me 
 " off and on for the last three years. She is not only a 
 " blue-bottle, but a poetess, 1 suspect. Her object in 
 
 L
 
 82 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " addressing me now, she says, is to get me to write on 
 " the loss of a slave-ship, the particulars of which she 
 " details. 
 
 " The second epistle is short, and in a hand I know 
 " very well : it is anonymous too. Hear what she says : 
 " ' I cannot longer exist without acknowledging the 
 " tumultuous and agonizing delight with which my soul 
 '* burns at the glowing beauties of yours.' 
 
 " A third is of a very different character from the last ; 
 " it is from a Mr. Sheppard, inclosing a prayer made for 
 " my welfare by his wife a few days before her death. The 
 " letter states that he has had the misfortune to lose this 
 " amiable woman, who had seen me at Ramsgate, many 
 " years ago, rambling among the cliffs ; that she had been 
 " impressed with a sense of my irreligion from the tenor of 
 " my works, and had often prayed fervently for my con- 
 " version, particularly in her last moments. The prayer 
 " is beautifully written. I like devotion in women. 
 " She must have been a divine creature. I pity the man 
 " who has lost her ! I shall write to him by return of 
 " the courier, to console with him, and tell him that Mrs. 
 " S need not have entertained any concern for my
 
 LORD BYRON. 83^ 
 
 « spiritual affairs, for that no man is more of a Christian 
 " than I am, whatever my writings may have led her and 
 " others to suspect." 
 
 January. 
 
 « A circumstance took place in Greece that impressed 
 " itself lastingly on my memory. I had once thought 
 " of founding a tale on it; but the subject is too har- 
 " rowing for any nerves,— too terrible for any pen! An 
 " order was issued at Zanina by its sanguinary Rajah, 
 " that any Turkish woman convicted of incontinence with 
 « a Christian should be stoned to death ! Love is slow at 
 « calculating dangers, and defies tyrants and their edicts; 
 " and many were the victims to the savage barbarity of 
 " this of Ali's. Among others a girl of sixteen, of a 
 " beauty such as that country only produces, fell under 
 " the vigilant eye of the poUce. She was suspected, and 
 " not without reason, of carrying on a secret intrigue with 
 " a Neapolitan of some rank, whose long stay in the city 
 " could be attributed to no other cause than this attach- 
 " ment. Her crime (if crime it be to love as they loved) 
 " was too fully proved; they were torn from each other's 
 « arms, never to meet again : and yet both might have 
 
 L 2
 
 84 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " escaped, — she by abjuring her rehgion, or he by adopt- 
 " ing hers. They resolutely refused to become apostates 
 " to their faith. Ali Pacha was never known to pardon. 
 " She was stoned by those deemons, although in the fourth 
 " month of her pregnancy ! He was sent to a town where 
 " the plague was raging, and died, happy in not having 
 " long oiitlived the object of his affections ! 
 
 " One of the principal incidents in ' The Giaour' is de- 
 " rived from a real occurrence, and one too in which I 
 " myself was nearly and deeply interested ; but an unwill- 
 " ingness to have it considered a traveller's tale made me 
 " suppress the fact of its genuineness. The Marquis of 
 " Sligo, who knew the particulars of the story, reminded 
 " me of them in England, and wondered I had not authen- 
 " ticated them in the Preface : — 
 
 " When I was at Athens, there was an edict in force 
 " similar to that of All's, except that the mode of punish- 
 " ment was different. It was necessary, therefore, that 
 " all love-affairs should be carried on with the greatest 
 " privacy. I was very fond at that time of a Turkish girl, — 
 " ay, fond of her as I have been of few women. All 
 " went on very well till the llamazan for forty days, which
 
 LORD BYRON. gg 
 
 " is rather a long fast for lovers : all intercourse between 
 " the sexes is forbidden by law, as well as by religion. 
 " During this Lent of the Musselmans, the women are 
 " not allowed to quit their apartments. I was in despair, 
 " and could hardly contrive to get a cinder, or a token- 
 " flower sent to express it. We had not met for several 
 " days, and all my thoughts were occupied in planning an 
 " assignation, when, as ill fate would have it, the means I 
 " took to effect it led to the discovery of our secret. The 
 " penalty was death, — death without reprieve, — a horrible 
 " death, at which one cannot think without shuddering ! 
 " An order was issued for the law being put into immediate 
 " effect. In the mean time I knew nothing of what had 
 " happened, and it was determined that I should be kept 
 " in ignorance of the whole affair till it was too late to in- 
 " terfere. A mere accident only enabled me to prevent 
 " the completion of the sentence. I was taking one of my 
 " usual evening rides by the sea-side, when I observed 
 " a crowd of people moving down to the shore, and 
 " the arms of the soldiers glittering among them. They 
 " were not so far off, but that I thought I could now and 
 " then distinguish a faint and stifled shriek. My curio- 
 " sity was forcibly excited, and I dispatched one of my fol- 
 " lowers to enquire the cause of the procession. What was
 
 86 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 my horror to learn that they were carrying an unfortu- 
 nate girl, sewn up in a sack, to be thrown into the sea ! 
 I did not hesitate as to what was to be done. I knew I 
 could depend on my faithful Albanians, and rode up 
 to the officer commanding the party, threatening, in case 
 of his refusal to give up his prisoner, that I would adopt 
 means to compel him. He did not like the business he 
 was on, or perhaps the determined look of my body- 
 guard, and consented to accompany me back to the city 
 with the girl, whom I soon discovered to be my Turkish 
 favourite. Suffice it to say, that my interference with 
 the chief magistrate, backed by a heavy bribe, saved 
 her; but it was only on condition that I should 
 break off all intercourse with her, and that she should 
 immediately quit Athens, and be sent to her friends in 
 Thebes. There she died, a few days after her arrival, of 
 a fever — perhaps of love." 
 
 " The severest fever I ever had was at Patras. I had left 
 Fletcher at Constantinople— convalescent, but unable to 
 
 " move from weakness, and had no attendants but my 
 
 " Albanians, to whom I owe my life.
 
 LORD BYRON. 87 
 
 " They were devotedly attached to me, and watched me 
 " day and night. I am more indebted to a good con- 
 " stitution for having got over this attack, than to the drugs 
 " of an ignorant Turk, who called himself a physician. He 
 " would have been glad to have disowned the name, and 
 " resigned his profession too, if he could have escaped 
 «' from the responsibiUty of attending me; for my Al- 
 " banians came the Grand Signior over him, and threatened 
 " that if I were not entirely recovered at a certain hour 
 " on a certain day, they would take his life. They are 
 " not people to make idle threats, and would have carried 
 " them into execution had any thing happened to me. 
 " You may imagine the fright the poor devil of a Doctor 
 " was in; and I could not help smiling at the ludicrous 
 - way in which his fears shewed themselves. I believe he 
 « was more pleased at my recovery than either my faithful 
 " nurses, or myself. I had no intention of dying at that 
 " time ; but if I had died, the same story would have been 
 " told of me as was related to have happened to Colonel 
 " Sherbrooke in America. On the very day my fever was 
 " at the highest, a friend of mine declared that he saw me 
 " in St. James's Street ; and somebody put my name down 
 " in the book at the Palace, as having enquired after the 
 *' King's health.
 
 88 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Every body would have said that my ghost had ap- 
 " peared." 
 
 " But how were they to have reconciled a ghost's writ- 
 ing?" asked I. 
 
 " I should most likely have passed the remainder of my 
 " life in Turkey, if I had not been called home by my 
 " mother's death and my affairs," said he. " I mean to 
 " return to Greece, and shall in all probability die there." 
 
 Little did I think, at the time he was pronouncing these 
 words, that they were prophetic ! 
 
 " I became a member of Drury-lane Committee, at the 
 " request of my friend Douglas Kinnaird, who made over 
 " to me a share of 500/. for the purpose of qualifying me 
 " to vote. One need have other qualifications besides 
 *' money for that office. I found the employment not 
 " over pleasant, and not a little dangerous, what with 
 " Irish authors and pretty poetesses. Five hundred plays 
 " were offered to the Theatre during the year I was Lite- 
 " rary Manager. You may conceive that it was no small
 
 LORD BYRON. 89 
 
 " task to read all this trash, and to satisfy the bards that 
 " it was so. 
 
 " When I first entered upon theatrical afFairs, I had 
 " some idea of writing for the house myself, but soon 
 " became a convert to Pope's opinion on that subject. 
 " Who would condescend to the drudgery of the stage, 
 " and enslave himself to the humours, the caprices, the 
 " taste or tastelessness, of the age ? Besides, one must 
 " write for particular actors, have them continually in one's 
 " eye, sacrifice character to the personating of it, cringe to 
 " some favourite of the public, neither give him too many 
 " nor two few lines to spout, think how he would mouth 
 " such and such a sentence, look such and such a passion, 
 " strut such and such a scene. Who, I say, would sub- 
 " mit to all this ? Shakspeare had many advantages : he 
 " was an actor by profession, and knew all the tricks of the 
 " trade. Yet he had but little fame in his day : see what 
 " Jonson and his contemporaries said of him. Besides, how 
 " few of what are called Shakspeare's plays are exclusively 
 " so ! — and how, at this distance of time, and lost as so 
 " many works of that period are, can we separate what 
 " really is from what is not his ow n ? 
 
 M
 
 90 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " The players retrenched, transposed, and even altered 
 " the text, to suit the audience or please themselves. Who 
 " knows how much rust they rubbed off? 1 am svire there 
 " is rust and base metal to spare left in the old plays. 
 " When Leigh Hunt comes we shall have battles enough 
 " about those old ruffiani, the old dramatists, with their 
 " tiresome conceits, their jingling rhymes, and endless 
 " play upon words. It is but lately that people have been 
 " satisfied that Shakspeare was not a god, nor stood alone 
 " in the age in which he lived ; and yet how few of the 
 "^ plays, even of that boasted time, have survived, and fewer 
 " still are now acted ! Let us count them. Only one of 
 *' Massingers (New Way to pay Old Debts), one of Ford's,* 
 " one of Ben Jonson's, * and half-a-dozen of Shakspeare's ; 
 " and of these last, ' The Two Gentlemen of Verona' and 
 " 'The Tempest' have been turned into operas. You cannot 
 " call that having a theatre. Now that Kemble has left the 
 " stage, who will endure Coriolanus ? Lady Macbeth died 
 " with Mrs. Siddons, and Polonius will with Munden. 
 " Shakspeare's Comedies are quite out of date ; many of 
 " them are insufferable to read, much more to see. They 
 " are gross food, only fit for an English or German palate ; 
 
 * Of which I have forgot the name he mentioned.
 
 LORD BYRON. 91 
 
 " they are indigestible to the French and Itahans, the 
 " pohtest people in the world. One can hardly find ten 
 " lines together without some gross violation of taste or 
 " decency. What do you think of Bottom in the 
 " 'Midsummer Night's Dream?' or of Troilus' and Cres- 
 " sida's passion ? " 
 
 Here I could not help interrupting him by saying, " You 
 have named the two plays that, with all their faults, contain, 
 perhaps, some of the finest poetry." 
 
 " Yes," said he, " in ' Troilus and Cressida :' 
 
 " ' Prophet may you be ! 
 
 " If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth. 
 " When Time is old, and hath forgot itself, 
 *' When water-di'ops have worn the stones of Troy, 
 " And blind Oblivion swaUow'd cities up, 
 " And mighty states characterless are gi'ated 
 " To dusty nothing, — yet let memory 
 " From false to false, among false maids in love, 
 " Upbraid my falsehood ! when they 've said, — As false 
 " As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, 
 " As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
 " Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son ; 
 
 M 2
 
 92 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood- 
 " As false as Cressid ! ' " 
 
 These lines he pronounced with great emphasis and 
 effect, and continued: 
 
 " But what has poetry to do with a play, or in a play ? 
 " There is not one passage in Alfieri strictly poetical ; 
 " hardly one in Racine." 
 
 Here he handed me a prospectus of a new translation 
 of Shakspeare into French prose, and read part of the first 
 scene in ' The Tempest,' laughing inwardly, as he was used 
 to do ; and afterwards produced a passage from Chateau- 
 briand, contending that we have no theatre. 
 
 " The French very properly ridicule our bringing in 
 " ' enfant an premier acte, barhon an dernier.' I was al- 
 " ways a friend to the unities, and believe that sub- 
 " jects are not wanting which may be treated in strict 
 " conformity to their rules. No one can be absurd enough 
 " to contend, that the preservation of the unities is a de- 
 " feet, — at least a fault. Look at Alfieri's plays, and tell me 
 " what is wanting in them. Does he ever deviate from the
 
 LORD BYRON. 93 
 
 " rules prescribed by the ancients, from the classical sim- 
 " plicity of the old models ? It is very difficult, almost 
 " impossible, to write any thing to please a modern au- 
 " dience. I was instrumental in getting up ' Bertram,' and 
 " it was said that I wrote part of it myself. That was not 
 " the case. I knew Maturin to be a needy man, and in- 
 " terested myself in his success : but its life was very 
 " feeble and ricketty. I once thought of getting Joanna 
 " Baillie's ' De Montfort' revived ; but the winding-up was 
 " faulty. She was herself aware of this, and wrote the last 
 " act over again ; and yet, after all, it failed. She must have 
 " been dreadfully annoyed, even more than Lady — — was. 
 " When it was bringing out, I was applied to, to write a 
 " prologue; but as the request did not come from Kean, 
 " who was to speak it, I declined. There are fine things 
 " in all the Plays on the Passions : an idea in ' De Montfort' 
 " struck me particularly; one of the characters said that 
 " he knew the footsteps of another.* 
 
 * " De Montfort. — 'Tis Rezenvelt : I heard his well-known foot ! 
 
 " From the first staircase, mounting step by step. 
 
 " Freberg. — How quick an ear thou hast for distant sound! 
 
 " I heard him not." 
 
 Act II. Scene 2.
 
 M CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " There are four words in Alfieri that speak vohimes. 
 " They are in ' Don Carlos.' The King and his Minister 
 " are secreted during an interview of the Infant with the 
 " Queen Consort : the following dialogue passes, which ends 
 " the scene. 'Vedesti? Vedi. Vdisti? Udi.' All the dra- 
 " matic beauty would be lost in translation— the nominative 
 " cases would kill it. Nothing provokes me so much as 
 " the squeamishness that excludes the exhibition of many 
 " such subjects from the stage ; — a squeamishness, the pro- 
 " duce, as I firmly believe, of a lower tone of the moral 
 " sense, and foreign to the majestic and confident virtue of 
 " the golden age of our country. All is now cant— me- 
 " thodistical cant. Shame flies from the heart, and takes 
 " refuge in the lips ; or, our senses and nerves are much 
 " more refined than those of our neighbours. 
 
 " We sliould not endure the Oedipus story, nor ' Ph^dre.' 
 " ' Myrrha,' the best worked-up, perhaps, of all Alfieri's 
 " tragedies, and a favourite in Italy, would not be tolerated. 
 " ' The Mysterious Mother' has never been acted, nor 
 " Massinger's ' Brother and Sister.' Webster's ' Duchess 
 " ofMalfy' would be too harrowing: her madness, the 
 " dungeon-scene, and her grim talk with her keepers and 
 " cofiin-bearers, could not be borne : nor Lillo's ' Fatal
 
 L O R D B Y R O N. 95 
 
 " Marriage.' The ' Cenci' is equally horrible, though per- 
 " haps the best tragedy modern times have produced. It 
 " is a play,^ — not a poem, like ' Remorse' and ' Fazio ;' and 
 " the best proof of its merit is, that people are continually 
 " quoting it. What may not be expected from such a 
 " beginning ? 
 
 " The Germans are colder and more phlegmatic than 
 " we are, and bear even to see 'Werner.' 
 
 " To write any thing to please, at the present day, is 
 " the despair of authors." 
 
 It was easy to be perceived that during this tirade 
 upon the stage, and against Shakspeare, he was smarting 
 under the ill-reception ' Marino Faliero' had met with, and 
 indignant at the critics, who had denied him the dramatic 
 faculty. This, however, was not the only occasion of his 
 abusing the old dramatists. 
 
 Some days after I revived the subject of the drama, and 
 led him into speaking of his own plays. 
 
 " I have just got a letter, " said he, " from Murray. What
 
 96 
 
 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' do you think he has enclosed me ? A long dull extract 
 ' from that long dull Latin epic of Petrarch's, Africa, which 
 ' he has the modesty to ask me to translate for Ugo Fos- 
 
 colo, who is writing some Memoirs of Petrarch, and has 
 ' got Moore, Lady Dacre, &c. to contribute to. What 
 
 am I to do with the death of Mago ? I wish to God, Med- 
 ' win, you would take it home with you, and translate it ; 
 * and I will send it to Murray. We will say nothing about 
 ' its being yours, or mine ; and it will be curious to hear 
 ' Foscolo's opinion upon it. Depend upon it, it will not 
 
 be an unfavourable one." 
 
 In the course of the day I turned it into couplets, (and 
 lame enough they were,) which he forwarded by the next 
 
 courier to England. 
 
 Almost by return of post arrived a furiously compli- 
 mentary epistle in acknowledgment, which made us laugh 
 very heartily. 
 
 " There are three good lines*," said Lord Byron, "in 
 " Mago's speech, which may be thus translated : 
 
 * Ugo Foscolo afterwards took them for his motto.
 
 L () R D B Y R O N. 97 
 
 " ' Yet, thing of dust ! 
 " Man strives to climb the earth in his ambition, 
 •' Till death, the monitor that flatters not, 
 " Points to the grave where all his hopes are laid.' " 
 
 " What do you think of Ada ? " said he, looking earnestly 
 at his daughter's miniature, that hung by the side of his 
 writing-table. " They tell me she is like me — but she has 
 " her mother's eyes. 
 
 " It is very odd that my mother was an only child; — I am 
 ' an only child ; my wife is an only child ; and Ada is an 
 ' only child. It is a singular coincidence ; that is the least 
 ' that can be said of it. I can't help thinking it was des- 
 ' tined to be so ; and perhaps it is best. I was once anxious 
 ' for a son ; but, after our separation, was glad to have had 
 ' a daughter ; for it would have distressed me too much to 
 ' have taken him away from Lady Byron, and I could not 
 ' have trusted her with a son's education. I have no idea 
 ' of boys being brought up by mothers. I suffered too 
 ' much from that myself: and then, wandering about the 
 ' world as I do, I could not take proper care of a child ; 
 ' otherwise I should not have left Allcgra, poor little
 
 98 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " thing ! * at Ravenna. She has been a great resource to me, 
 " though I am not so fond of her as of Ada ; and yet I 
 " mean to make their fortunes equal- there will be enough 
 " for them both. I have desired in my will that Allegra 
 " shall not marry an Englishman. The Irish and Scotch 
 " make better husbands than we do. You will think it was 
 " an odd fancy, but I was not in the best of humours with 
 " my countrymen at that moment — you know the reason. 
 " I am told that Ada is a little termagant ; I hope not. I 
 " shall write to my sister to know if this is the case : per- 
 " haps I am wrong in letting Lady Byron have entirely 
 " her own way in her education. I hear that my name is 
 " not mentioned in her presence; that a green curtain is 
 " always kept over my portrait, as over something forbid- 
 " den ; and that she is not to know that she has a father, 
 " till she comes of age. Of course she will be taught to 
 " hate me ; she will be brought up to it. Lady Byron is 
 " conscious of all this, and is afraid that I shall some 
 
 * She appears to be the Leila of his Don Juan : 
 " Poor little thing ! She was as fair as docile, 
 " And with that gentle, serious character 
 
 Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 52.
 
 T. ORD BYT^ON. 99 
 
 " day carry off her daughter by stealth or force. I might 
 " clahn her of the Chancellor, without having recourse to 
 " either one or the other. But I had rather be unhappy 
 " myself, than make her mother so ; probably I shall never 
 " see her again." 
 
 Here he opened his writing-desk, and shewed me some 
 hair, which he told me was his child's. 
 
 During our drive and ride this evening, he declined our 
 usual amusement of pistol-firing, without assigning a cause. 
 He hardly spoke a word during the first half-hour, and it 
 was evident that something weighed heavily on his mind. 
 There was a sacredness in his melancholy that 1 dared not 
 interrupt. At length he said : 
 
 " This is Ada's birthday, and might have been the hap- 
 
 " piest day of my life : as it is !" He stopped, 
 
 seemingly ashamed of having betrayed his feehngs. He 
 tried in vain to rally his spirits by turning the conversation ; 
 but he created a laugh in which he could not join, and soon 
 relapsed into his former reverie. It lasted till we came 
 within a mile of the Argive gate. There our silence was 
 all at once interrupted by shrieks that seemed to proceed 
 
 N 2
 
 100 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 from a cottage by the side of the road. We pulled up our 
 horses, to enquhe of a contadino standing at the little gar- 
 den-wicket. He told us that a widow had just lost her 
 only chilli, and that the sounds proceeded from the wait- 
 ings of some women over the corpse. Lord Byron was 
 much affected; and his superstition, acted upon by a 
 sadness that seemed to be presentiment, led him to augur 
 some disaster. 
 
 " I shall not be happy," said he, " till I hear that my 
 " daughter is well. I have a great horror of anniver- 
 " saries : people only laugh at, who have never kept a 
 " re»ister of them. I always write to my sister on Ada's 
 " birthday. I did so last year ; and, what was very remark- 
 " able, my letter reached her on my wedding-day, and her 
 " answer reached me at Ravenna on my birthday ! Several 
 " extraordinary things have happened to me on my birth- 
 " day ; so they did to Napoleon ; and a more wonderful 
 " circumstance still occurred to Marie Antoinette." 
 
 The next morning's courier brought him a letter from 
 England. He gave it me as I entered, and said : 
 
 " I was convinced something very unpleasant hung over
 
 L O K D B Y R N. 101 
 
 " nie last night : I expected to hear that somebody I knew 
 " was dead ;— so it turns out ! Poor Pohdori is gone ! 
 " When he was my physician, lie was always talking of 
 " Prussia acid, oil of amber, blowing into veins, suffocating 
 " by charcoal, and compounding poisons ; but for a different 
 " purpose to what the Pontic Monarch did, for he has pre- 
 " scribed a dose for himself that would have killed fifty 
 " Miltiades',— a dose whose effect, Murray says, was so 
 " instantaneous that he went off without a spasm or strug- 
 " gle. It seems that disappointment was the cause of this 
 " rash act. He had entertained too sanguine hopes of 
 " literary flmie, owing to the success of his 'Vampyre,' 
 " which, in consequence of its being attributed to me, was 
 " got up as a melo-drame at Paris. The foundation of the 
 " story was mine ; but I was forced to disown the pubhca- 
 " tion, lest the world should suppose that I had vanity 
 " enough, or was egotist enough, to write in that ridiculous 
 " manner about myself.* Notwithstanding which, the 
 " French editions still persevere in including it with my 
 " works. My real ' Vampyre' I gave at the end of ' Ma- 
 
 * He alluded to the Preface and the Postscript, containing accounts 
 of his residence at Geneva and in the Isle of Mitylene. 
 
 LIKRAKY 
 
 UNXVERSITY -r - ' - ^"rUiJia," 
 SANT-
 
 102 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " zeppa,' something in the same way that T told it one 
 " night at Diodati, when Monk Lewis, and Shelley and his 
 " wife, were present. The latter sketched on that occa- 
 " sion the outline of her Pygmalion story, ' The Modern 
 " Prometheus,' the making of a man (which a lady who had 
 " read it afterwards asked Sir Humphrey Davy, to his 
 " great astonishment, if he could do, and was told a story 
 " something like Alonzo and Imogene) ; and Shelley him- 
 " self, or ' The Snake,' (as he used sometimes to call him,) 
 " conjured up some frightful woman of an acquaintance of 
 " his at home, a kind of Medusa, who was suspected of 
 " having eyes in her breasts. 
 
 " Perhaps Polidori had strictly no right to appropriate 
 " my story to himself; but it was hardly worth it : and 
 " when my letter, disclaiming the narrative part, was writ- 
 " ten, I dismissed the matter from my memory. It was 
 " Polidori's own fault that we did not agree. I was sorry 
 " when we parted, for I soon get attached to people ; and 
 " was more sorry still for the scrape he afterwards got 
 " into at Milan. He quarrelled with one of the guards 
 " at the Scala, and was ordered to leave the Lombard 
 " States twenty-four hours after ; which put an end to all 
 " his Continental schemes, that I had forwarded by re-
 
 LORD BYRON. 103 
 
 " commending him to Lord ; and it is difficult for a 
 
 " young physician to get into practice at home, however 
 " clever, particularly a foreigner, or one with a foreigner's 
 " name. From that time, instead of making out pre- 
 " scriptions, he took to writing romances ; a very unprofit- 
 " able and fatal exchange, as it turned out. 
 
 " I told you I was not oppressed in spirits last night 
 " without a reason. Who can help being superstitious ? 
 " Scott believes in second-sight. Rousseau tried whether 
 " he was to be d— d or not, by aiming at a tree with a 
 " stone: I forget whether he hit or missed. Goethe trusted 
 " to the chance of a knife's striking the water, to determine 
 " whether he was to prosper in some undertakmg. The 
 " Itahans think the dropping of oil very unlucky. Pietro 
 " (Count Gamba) dropped some the night before his exile, 
 " and that of his family, from Ravenna. Have you ever 
 " had your fortune told ? " Mrs. WiUiams told mine. She 
 " predicted that twenty-seven and thirty-seven were to be 
 " dangerous ages in my Ufe. * One has come true." 
 
 * He was married in his twenty-seventh, and died in his thirty- 
 seventh year.
 
 104 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Yes," added I, " and did she not prophecy that 
 you were to die a monk and a miser? I have been 
 told so." 
 
 " I don't think these two last very likely ; but it was 
 " part of her prediction. But there are lucky and un- 
 
 " lucky days, as well as years and numbers too. Lord , ^^ 
 
 " was dining at a party, where ■ observed that they 
 
 " were thirteen. * Why don't you make us twelve ?' was the 
 " reply; and an impudent one it was — but he could say 
 " those things. You would not visit on a Friday, would 
 
 " you ? You know you are to introduce me to Mrs. . 
 
 " It must not be to-morrow, for it is a Friday." 
 
 " A fine day," said I, as I entered ; " a day worth living 
 for." 
 
 " An old wag of a world!" replied he, shaking me by 
 
 the hand. " You should have been here earlier. T^ 
 
 " has been here with a most portentous and obstetrical 
 " countenance, and it seems he has been bringing forth an 
 " ode— a birthday ode — not on Ada, but on a lady. An 
 
 ii-'
 
 LORD BYRON. 105 
 
 " odious production it must have been! He threatened 
 " to inflict, as Shelley calls it ; but I fought off. As I told 
 " him, Stellas are out of date now : it is a bad compliment 
 " to remind women of their age. 
 
 " Talking of days, this is the most wretched day of 
 " my existence ; and I say and do all sorts of foohsh 
 " things* to drive away the memory of it, and make me 
 " forget. 
 
 *' I will give you a specimen of some epigrams I am in 
 
 * « So that it wean me from the weary dream 
 " Of selfish grief, or gladness ! — so it fling 
 " Forgetfulness around me !" 
 
 Childe Harold, Canto III. Stanza 4. 
 
 " And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 
 " 'Tis that I may not weep ; — and if I weep, 
 " 'Tis that our nature cannot always bring 
 " Itself to apathy" &c. 
 
 Don Juan, Canto IV. Stanza 4. 
 o
 
 106 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " the habit of sending Hobhouse, to whom I wrote on my 
 " first wedding-day, and continue to write still : 
 
 " This day of ours has surely done 
 
 " Its worst for me and you ! 
 " 'Tis now Jive years since we were one, 
 
 " And four since we were two. 
 
 " And another on his sending me the congratulations of the 
 " season, which ended in some foolish way like this : 
 
 " You may wish me returns of the season : 
 " Let us, prithee, have none of the day !" 
 
 I think I can give no stronger proof of the sociability 
 of Lord Byron's disposition, than the festivity that pre- 
 sided over his dinners. 
 
 Wednesday being one of his fixed days : " You will 
 " dine with me," said he, " though it is the 2d January." 
 
 His own table, when alone, was fi-ugal, not to say ab-
 
 LORD BYRON. 107 
 
 stemious * ; but on the occasion of these meetings every 
 sort of wine, every luxury of the season, and English deli- 
 cacy, were displayed. I never knew any man do the honours 
 of his house with greater kindness and hospitality. On this 
 eventful anniversary he was not, however, in his usual 
 spirits, and evidently tried to drown the remembrance of 
 the day by a levity that was forced and unnatural; — for it 
 was clear, in spite of all his efforts, that something op- 
 pressed him, and he could not help continually recurring 
 to the subject. 
 
 One of the party proposed Lady Byron's health, which 
 he gave with evident pleasure, and we all drank in bump- 
 
 * His dinner, when alone, cost five Pauls ; and thinking he was 
 overcharged, he gave his bills to a lady of my acquaintance to 
 examine.! At a Christmas-day dinner he had ordered a plum- 
 pudding a l'A?igiaise. Somebody afterwards told him it was not 
 good. " Not good !" said he : " why, it ought to be good ; it cost 
 fifteen Pauls." 
 
 I He ordered the remnants to be given away, lest his servants 
 (as he said) should envy him every mouthful he eats. 
 
 o 2
 
 108 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ers. The conversation turning on his separation, the pro- 
 babiUty of their being reconciled was canvassed. 
 
 " What !" said he, " after having lost the five best years 
 " of our lives ? — Never ! But," added he, " it was no 
 " fault of mine that we quarrelled. I have made advances 
 " enough. I had once an idea that people are happiest in 
 " the marriage state, after the impetuosity of the passions 
 " has subsided, — but that hope is all over with me !" 
 
 Writing to a friend the day after our party, I finished my 
 letter with the following remark : 
 
 " Notwithstanding the tone of raillery with which he 
 sometimes speaks in ' Don Juan ' of his separation from 
 Lady Byron, <uid his saying, as he did to-day, that the 
 only thing he thanks Lady Byron for is, that he cannot 
 marry, &c., it is evident that it is the thorn in his side — the 
 poison in his cup of life ! The veil is easily seen through. 
 He endeavours to mask his griefs, and to fill up the void 
 of his heart, by assuming a gaiety that does not belong to 
 it. All the tender and endearing ties of social and domes- 
 tic life rudely torn asunder, he has been wandering on 
 from place to place, without finding any to rest in. Swit-
 
 LORD BYRON. 109 
 
 zerland, Venice, Ravenna, and I might even have added 
 Tuscany, were doomed to be no asykim for him." &c. 
 
 I observed himself and all his servants in deep mourn- 
 ing. He did not wait for me to enquire the cause. 
 
 " I have just heard," said he, " of Lady Noel's death. 
 " I am distressed for poor Lady Byron ! She must be in 
 " great affliction, for she adored her mother ! The world 
 " will think I am pleased at this event, but they are much 
 " mistaken. I never wished for an accession of fortune ; 
 " I have enough without the Wentworth property. I have 
 " written a letter of condolence to Lady Byron, — you may 
 " suppose in the kindest terms, — beginning, ' My dear 
 " Lady Byron, 
 
 " ' If we are not reconciled, it is not my fault !' 
 
 " I shall be delighted," I said, " to see you restored to 
 her and to your country ; which, notwithstanding all you 
 say and write against it, I am sure you like. Do you 
 
 remember a sentiment in the ' Two Foscari ?' " 
 
 ' He who loves not his country, can love nothing.'
 
 110 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I am becoming more weaned from it every day," said 
 he after a pause, " and have had enough to wean me 
 " from it ! — No ! Lady Byron will not make it up with 
 " me now, lest the world should say that her mother 
 " only was to blame! Lady Noel certainly identifies 
 " herself very strongly in the quarrel, even by the ac- 
 " count of her last injunctions; for she directs in her 
 " will that my portrait, shut up in a case by her orders, 
 " shall not be opened till her grand-daughter be of 
 " age, and then not given to her if Lady Byron should 
 " be alive. 
 
 " I might have claimed all the fortune for my hfe, 
 " if I had chosen to have done so; but have agreed to 
 " leave the division of it to Lord Dacre and Sir Francis 
 " Burdett. The whole management of the afi'air is co;i- 
 " fided to them; and I shall not interfere, or make any 
 " suggestion or objection, if they award Lady Byron the 
 " whole." 
 
 I asked him how he became entitled ? 
 
 " The late Lord Wentworth," said he, " bequeathed a 
 " life interest in his Lancashire estates to Lady Byron's
 
 LORD BYRON. m 
 
 " mother, and afterwards to her daughter: that is the way 
 " I claim." 
 
 Some time after, when the equal partition had been 
 settled, he said : 
 
 " I have offered Lady Byron the family mansion in 
 " addition to the award, but she has declined it: this is 
 " not kind. " 
 
 The conversation turned after dinner on the lyrical 
 poetry of the day, and a question arose as to which was 
 the most perfect ode that had been produced. Shelley 
 contended for Coleridge's on Switzerland, beginning, " Ye 
 ' clouds," &c. ; others named some of Moore's Irish Melodies, 
 and Campbell's Hohenlinden ; and, had Lord Byron not 
 been present, his own Invocation to Manfred, or Ode to 
 Napoleon, or on Prometheus, might have been cited. 
 
 " Like Gray," said he, " Campbell smells too much of the 
 " oil : he is never satisfied with what he does ; his finest 
 " things have been spoiled by over-polish — the sharpness 
 " of the outline is worn off. Like paintings, poems may
 
 112 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " be too highly finished. The great art is effect, no matter 
 " how produced. 
 
 " I will shew you an ode you have never seen, that I 
 " consider little inferior to the best which the present pro- 
 " lific age has brought forth." With this he left the table, 
 almost before the cloth was removed, and i-eturned with 
 a magazine, from which he read the following lines on 
 Sir John Moore's burial, which perhaps require no apology 
 for finding a place here : 
 
 " Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, 
 " As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 
 " Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
 " O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 
 
 " We buried him darkly at dead of night, 
 " The sods with our bayonets turning, — 
 " By the stniggling moonbeam's misty light, 
 " And the lantei'n dimly burning. 
 
 " No useless coffin confined his breast, 
 " Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him 
 " But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
 " With his martial cloak around him.
 
 LORD BYRON. 113 
 
 " Few and short were the prayers we said, 
 
 " And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
 
 " But we stedfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
 
 " And we bitterly thought of the moiTOW. 
 
 " We thought, as we heap'd his narrow bed, 
 
 " And smooth'd down his lonely pillow, 
 
 " That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, 
 
 " And we far away on the billow ! 
 
 « Lightly they '11 talk of the spirit that 's gone, 
 " And o'er his cold ashes upbraid hira ; 
 « But nothing he '11 reck, if they let him sleep on 
 " In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 
 
 " But half of our heavy task was done, 
 " When the clock told the hour for retiring ; 
 " And we heard by the distant and random gun, 
 " That the foe was suddenly firing, 
 
 " Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
 " From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; 
 " We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
 " But we left hira alone with his glory." 
 
 p
 
 ]14 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 The feeling with which he recited these admirable stan- 
 zas, I shall never forget. After he had come to an end, he 
 repeated the third, and said it was perfect, particularly the 
 
 lines 
 
 *' But he lay like a wanior taking his rest, 
 
 •' With his martial cloak around him." 
 
 " I should have taken," said Shelley, " the whole for a 
 rough sketch of Campbell's." 
 
 " No," replied Lord Byron : " Campbell would have 
 " claimed it, if it had been his." 
 
 I afterwards had reason to think that the ode was Lord 
 Byron's ; * that he was piqued at none of his own being 
 mentioned ; and, after he had praised the verses so high- 
 ly, could not own them. No other reason can be assigned 
 for his not acknowledging himself the author, particularly 
 as he was a great admirer of General Moore, 
 
 Talking after dinner of swimming, he said : — 
 
 * I am corroborated in tliis opinion lately by a lady, whose brother 
 received them many years ago fiom Lord Byron, in his Lordship's 
 own hand-writing.
 
 LORD BYRON. 115 
 
 " Murray published a letter I wrote to him from Venice, 
 " which might have seemed an idle display of vanity ; 
 " but the object of my writing it was to contradict what 
 " Turner had asserted about the impossibility of crossing 
 " the Hellespont from the Abydos to the Sestos side, in 
 " consequence of the tide. 
 
 '■ One is as easy as the other ; we did both." Here 
 he turned round to Fletcher, to whom he occasionally 
 referred, and said, " Fletcher, how far was it Mr. Ekenhead 
 " and I swam ?" Fletcher replied, " Three miles and a half, 
 ray Lord." (Of course he did not diminish the distance.) 
 " The real width of the Hellespont," resumed Lord Byron, 
 " is not much above a mile ; but the current is prodigiously 
 " strong, and we were carried down notwithstanding all 
 " our efforts. I don't know how Leander contrived to 
 " stem the stream, and steer straight across; but nothing is 
 " impossible in love or religion. If I had had a Hero on 
 " the other side, perhaps I should have worked harder. 
 " We were to have undertaken this feat some time before, 
 " but put it off in consequence of the coldness of the water ; 
 " and it was chilly enough when we performed it. I know 1 
 " should have made a bad Leander, for it gave me an ague 
 " that I did not so easUy get rid of There were some 
 
 p2
 
 116 CONVERSATIONS OV 
 
 " sailors in the fleet who swam further than I did — I do 
 " not say than I could have done, for it is the only exer- 
 " cise I pride myself upon, being almost amphibious. 
 
 " I remember being at Brighton many years ago, and 
 " having great difficulty in making the land,— the wind 
 " blowing off the shore, and the tide setting out. Crowds of 
 
 " people were collected on the beach to see us. Mr, 
 
 " (I think he said Hobhouse) was with me ; and," he added, 
 " I had great difficulty in saving him — he nearly drowned me. 
 
 " When I was at Venice, there was an Italian who knew 
 " no more of swimming than a camel, but he had heard of 
 " my prowess in the Dardanelles, and challenged me. Not 
 " wishing that any foreigner at least should beat me at my 
 " own arms, 1 consented to engage in the contest. Alex- 
 " ander Scott proposed to be of the party, and we started 
 " from Lido. Our land-lubber was very soon in the rear, 
 " and Scott saw him make for a Gondola. He rested him- 
 " self first against one, and then against another, and gave 
 " in before we got half way to St. Mark's Place. We saw 
 " no more of him, but continued our course through the 
 " Grand Canal, landing at my palace-stairs. The water of 
 " the Lagunes is dull, and not very clear or agreeable to
 
 LORD BYRON. 117 
 
 " bathe in. I can keep myself up for hours in the sea : I 
 " delight in it, and come out with a buoyancy of spirits I 
 " never feel on any other occasion. 
 
 " If I believed in the transmigration of your Hindoos, 
 « I should think I had been a Merman in some former state 
 " of existence, or was going to be turned into one in the 
 " next." 
 
 « When I pubhshed 'Marino Fahero' I had not the most 
 « distant view to the stage. My object in choosing that 
 " historical subject was to record one of the most remark- 
 " able incidents in the annals of the Venetian Republic, 
 " embodying it in what I considered the most interesting 
 " form-dialogue, and giving my work the accompaniments 
 " of scenery and manners studied on the spot. That 
 " Faliero should, for a slight to a woman, become a traitor 
 " to his country, and conspire to massacre all his fellow- 
 " nobles, and that the young Foscari should have a sickly 
 " affection for his native city, were no inventions of mine. I 
 " painted the men as I found them, as they were,_not as 
 " the critics would have them. I took the stories as they 
 " were handed down ; and if human nature is not the same 
 .' in one country as it is in others, am I to blame ?-can I
 
 118 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " help it ? But no painting, however highly coloured. 
 " can give an idea of the intensity of a Venetian's aflPection 
 " for his native city. Shelley, I remember, draws a very 
 " beautiful picture of the tranquil pleasures of Venice in a 
 " poem* which he has not published, and in which he does 
 " not make me cut a good figure. It describes an evening 
 " we passed together. 
 
 " There was one mistake I committed : I should have 
 " called 'Marino Faliero' and ' The Two Foscari' dramas, 
 
 * The lines to which Lord Byron referred are these : 
 
 " If I had been an unconnected man, 
 
 " I from this moment should have form'd the plan 
 
 " Never to leave fair Venice — for to me 
 
 " It was delight to ride by the lone sea ; 
 
 " And then the town is silent — one may write 
 
 " Or read in gondolas by day or night, 
 
 " Having the httle brazen lamp aUght, 
 
 " Unseen, uninteiTupted : books are there, 
 
 " Pictures, and casts from all those statues fair 
 
 " Which were twin-born with poetry,— and all 
 
 " We seek in towns, with little to recall 
 
 " Regrets for the gi'een country. I miglit sit 
 
 " In Maddalo's great palace," &c. 
 
 Julian and Maddalo.
 
 LORD BYRON. 119 
 
 " historic poems, or any thing, in short, but tragedies or 
 " plays. In the first place, I was ill-used in the extreme 
 " by the Doge being brought on the stage at all, after my 
 " Preface. Then it consists of 3500 lines : * a good acting 
 " play should not exceed 1500 or 1800 ; and, conformably 
 " with my plan, the materials could not have been com- 
 " pressed into so confined a space. 
 
 " I remember Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd telling me, 
 
 " many years ago, that I should never be able to condense 
 
 " my powers of writing sufficiently for the stage, and 
 
 " that the fault of all my plays would be their being 
 
 « too long for acting. The remark occurred to me when I 
 
 " was about ' Marino Fahero ;' but I thought it unnecessary 
 
 " to try and contradict his prediction, as I did not study 
 
 " stage-efiect, and meant it solely for \he closet. So much 
 
 " was°I averse from its being acted,- that, the moment I 
 
 " heard of the intention of the Managers, I applied for an 
 
 " injunction; but the Chancellor refused to interfere, or 
 
 " issue an order for suspending the representation. It was 
 
 * He gave me the copy, with the niunber of Unes marked with his 
 own pencil. I have left it in England.
 
 120 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " a question of great importance in the literary world of 
 *' property. He would neither protect me nor Murray. 
 ** But the manner in which it was got up was shameful!* 
 *' All the declamatory parts were left, all the dramatic 
 " ones struck out ; and Cooper, the new actor, was the 
 " murderer of the whole. Lioni's soliloquy, which 1 
 " wrote one moonlight night after coming from the 
 " Benyon's, ought to have been omitted altogether, or at 
 " all events much curtailed. What audience will listen 
 " with any patience to a mere tirade of poetry, which stops 
 " the march of the actor ? No wonder, then, that the 
 " unhappy Doge should have been damned! But it was no 
 " very pleasant news for me ; and the letter containing it 
 " was accompanied by another, to inform me that an old 
 " lady, from whom I had great exjjectations, was likely to 
 " live to an hundred. There is an autumnal shoot in some 
 " old people, as in trees ; and I fancy her constitution has 
 " got some of the new sap. Well, on these two pleasant 
 " pieces of intelligence I wrote the following epigram, or 
 " elegy it may be termed, from the melancholy nature of 
 " the subject : — 
 
 * Acted at Drury Lane, April 25, 1821.
 
 LORD BYRON. 121 
 
 " Behold the blessings of a happy lot ! 
 
 My play is damn'd, and Lady not 
 
 " I understand that Louis Dix-huit, or huitres, as Moore 
 " spells it, has made a traduction of poor ' FaUero ;' but I 
 " should hope it will not be attempted on the Theatre 
 " Franpis. It is quite enough for a man to be damned 
 " once. I was satisfied with Jeffrey's critique * on the 
 " play, for it abounded in extracts. He was welcome to his 
 " own opinion,— which was fairly stated. His summing up 
 " in favour of my friend Sir Walter amused me : it re- 
 " minded me of a schoolmaster, who, after flogging a bad 
 " boy, calls out the head of the class, and, patting him on 
 " the head, gives him all the sugar-plums. 
 
 " The common trick of Reviewers is, when they want to 
 
 * " However, I forgive him ; and I trust 
 " He wUl forgive himself: — if not, I must. 
 
 " Old enemies who have become new friends, 
 '• Should so continue ; — 'tis a point of honour." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto X. Stanzas 1 1 and 1 2. 
 Q
 
 122 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " depreciate a work, to give no quotations from it. This 
 " is what ' The Quarterly' shines in ; — the way Milman put 
 " down Shelley, when he compared him to Pharaoh, and 
 " his works to his chariot-wheels, by what contortion of 
 " images I forget;— but it reminds me of another person's 
 " comparing me in a poem to Jesus Christ, and telling me, 
 " when I objected to its profanity, that he alluded to me 
 " in situation, not in person ! ' What !' said I in reply, 
 " ' would you have me crucified ? We are not in Jerusalem, 
 " are we ?' But this is a long parenthesis. The Re- 
 " viewers are like a counsellor, after an abusive speech, 
 " calling no witnesses to prove his assertions. 
 
 " There are people who read nothing but these tiimes- 
 " trials, and swear by the ipse dixit of these autocrats— these 
 " Actaeon hunters of literature. They are fond of raising 
 " up and throwing down idols. ' The Edinburgh' did so 
 
 " with Walter Scott's poetry, and, perhaps there is no 
 
 " merit in my plays ? It may be so ; and Milman may be a 
 " great poet, if Heber is right and I am wrong. He has 
 " the dramatic faculty, and I have not. So they pretended 
 " to say of Milton. I am too happy in being coupled in 
 " any way with Milton, and shall be glad if they find any 
 " points of comparison between him and me.
 
 LORD BYRON. ]23 
 
 " But the praise or blame of Reviewers does not last 
 " long now-a-days. It is like straw thrown up in the air. * 
 
 " I hope, notwithstanding all that has been said, to 
 " write eight more plays this year, and to live long enough 
 " to rival Lope de Vega, or Calderon. I have two subjects 
 " that I think of writing on, — Miss Leigh's German tale 
 " ' Kruitzner,' and Pausanias. 
 
 " What do you think of Pausanias ? The unities can 
 " be strictly preserved, almost without deviating from 
 " history. The temple where he took refuge, and from 
 " whose sanctuary he was forced without profaning it, 
 " will fm'nish complete unities of time and place. 
 
 " No event in ancient times ever struck me as more 
 " noble and dramatic than the death of Demosthenes. 
 " You remember his last words to Archias ? — But sub- 
 " jects are not wanting." 
 
 * He seemed to think somewhat diflferently afterwards, when, 
 after the review in ' The Quarterly' of his plays, he wrote to me, 
 saying, " I am the most unpopular writer going ! " 
 
 q2
 
 124 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 I told Lord Byron, that I had had a letter from Procter*, 
 and that he had been jeered on ' The Duke of Mirandola' 
 not having been included in his (Lord B.'s) enumeration 
 of the dramatic pieces of the day ; and that he added, he 
 had been at Harrow with him. 
 
 " Ay," said Lord Byron, " I remember the name : he 
 " was in the lower school, in such a class. They stood 
 " Farrer, Procter, Jocelyn." 
 
 I have no doubt Lord Byron could have gone through 
 all the names, such was his memory. He immediately sat 
 down, and very good-naturedly gave me the following note 
 to send to Barry Cornwall, which shews that the argu- 
 ments of the Reviewers had not changed his Unitarian 
 opinions, (as he called them) : 
 
 " Had I been aware of your tragedy when I wrote my 
 " note to ' Marino Faliero,' although it is a matter of no 
 " consequence to you, I should certainly not have omitted 
 " to insert your name with those of the other writers who 
 " still do honour to the drama. 
 
 Barry Cornwall.
 
 LORD BYRON. 125 
 
 " My own notions on the subject altogether are so dif- 
 " ferent from the popular ideas of the day, that we differ 
 " essentially, as indeed I do from our whole EngUsh lite- 
 " rati, upon that topic. But I do not contend that I am 
 « right— I merely say that such is my opinion ; and as it 
 " is a solitary one, it can do no great harm. But it does 
 " not prevent me from doing justice to the powers of those 
 " who adopt a different system." 
 
 I introduced the subject of Cain :— 
 
 " When I was a boy," said he, " I studied German, 
 " which I have now entirely forgotten. It was very Uttle 
 " I ever knew of it. Abel was one of the first books my 
 " German master read to me ; and whilst he was crying 
 " his eyes out over its pages, I thought that any other 
 " than Cain had hardly committed a crime in ridding 
 " the world of so dull a fellow as Gessner made brother 
 " Abel. 
 
 " I always thought Cain a fine subject, and when I took 
 - it up I determined to treat it strictly after the Mosaic 
 " account. I therefore made the snake a snake, and took a 
 " Bishop for my interpreter.
 
 126 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I had once an idea of following the Arminian Scrip- 
 " tares, and making Cain's crime proceed from jealousy, 
 " and love of his uterine sister ; but, though a more pro- 
 " bable cause of dispute, I abandoned it as unorthodox. 
 
 " One mistake crept in, — Abel's should have been made 
 " the first sacrifice : and it is singular that the first form of 
 " religious worship should have induced the first murder. 
 
 " Hobhouse has denounced ' Cain' as irreligious, and has 
 " penned me a most furious epistle, urging me not to 
 " publisli it, as I value my reputation or his friendship. He 
 " contends that it is a work I should not have ventured to 
 " have put my name to in the days of Pope, Churchill, 
 " and Johnson, (a curious trio !) Hobhouse used to write 
 " good verses once himself, but he seems to have forgotten 
 " what poetry is in others, when he says my ' Cain' reminds 
 " him of the worst bombast of Dryden's. Shelley, who is 
 " no bad judge of the compositions of others, however 
 " he may fail in procuring success for his own, is most 
 " sensitive and indignant at this cririque, and says (what 
 " is not the case) that 'Cain' is the finest thing I ever 
 " wrote, calls it worthy of Milton, and backs it against 
 " Hobhouse's poetical Trinity.
 
 LORD BYRON. 127 
 
 " The Snakes rage has prevented my crest from rismg. 
 " I shall write Hobhouse a very miimpassioned letter, but 
 " a firm one. The publication shall go on, whether Mur- 
 " ray refuses to print it or not. 
 
 " I have just got a letter, and an admirable one it 
 " is, from Sir Walter Scott, to whom I dedicated ' Cain.' 
 " The sight of one of his letters always does me good. 
 " I hardly know what to make of all the contradictory 
 " opinions that have been sent me this week. Moore says, 
 " that more people are shocked with the blasphemy of the 
 " sentiments, than dehghted with the beauty of the lines. 
 " Another person thinks the Devil's arguments irresistible, 
 
 " or irrefutable. says that the Liberals like it, but 
 
 " that the Ultraists are making a terrible outcry; and that 
 " the he and him not being in capitals, m full dress 
 " uniform, shocks the High-church and Court party. Some 
 " call me an Atheist, others a Manichaean,— a very bad and 
 " a hard-sounding name, that shocks the ilUterati the more 
 " because they don't know what it means. I am taxed 
 " with having made my drama a peg to hang on it a long, 
 " and some say tiresome, dissertation on the principle of 
 " Evil ; and, what is worse, with having given Lucifer the 
 " best of the argument ; all of which I am accused of 
 " taking from Voltaire.
 
 128 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 '* I could not make Lucifer expound the Thirty-nine 
 " Articles, nor talk as the Divines do: that would never 
 " have suited his purpose, — nor, one would think, theirs. 
 " They ought to be grateful to him for giving them a sub- 
 " ject to write about. What would they do without evil in 
 " the Prince of Evil ? Othello's occupation would be gone. 
 " I have made Lucifer say no more in his defence than was 
 " absolutely necessary, — not half so much as Milton makes 
 " his Satan do. 1 was forced to keep up his dramatic 
 " character. Au reste, I have adhered closely to the Old 
 " Testament, and I defy any one to question my moral. 
 
 " Johnson, who wovdd have been glad of an opportunity 
 " of throwing another stone at Milton, redeems him from 
 " any censure for putting impiety and even blasphemy into 
 " the mouths of his infernal spirits. By what rule, then, am 
 " I to have all the blame ? What would the Methodists at 
 " home say to Goethe's ' Faust ' ? His devil not only talks 
 " very familiarly of Heaven, but very familiarly in Heaven. 
 " What would tht y think of the colloquies of Mephisto- 
 " pheles and his pupil, or the more daring language of the 
 " prologue, which no one will ever venture to translate? 
 " And yet this play is not only tolerated and admired, as 
 " every thing he wrote must be, but acted, in Germany.
 
 LORD BYRON. 129 
 
 " And are the Germans a less moral people than we are ? 
 " I doubt it much. Faust itself is not so fine a subject 
 " as Cain. It is a grand mystery. The mark that was 
 " put upon Cain is a sublime and shadowy act: Goethe 
 " wwuld have made more of it than I have done *." 
 
 * On Mr. Murray being threatened with a prosecution, Lord Byion 
 begged me to copy the following letter for him : — 
 
 « Attacks upon me were to be expected, but I perceive one 
 " upon you in the papers which, I confess, I did not expect. 
 
 " How and in what manner you can be considered responsible 
 " for what I publish, I am at a loss to conceive. If 'Cahi' be blas- 
 « phemous, 'Paradise Lost' is blasphemous ; and the words of the 
 « Oxford gentleman, ' Evil, be thou my good,' are from that v^ry 
 " poem, from the mouth of Satan,— and is there any thing more 
 " in that of Lucifer, in the Mystery? 'Cain' is nothing more than 
 " a drama, not a piece of argument. If Lucifer and Cain speak 
 ' " as the first rebel and the first murderer may be supposed to 
 " speak, nearly all the rest of the personages talk also according 
 " to their characters ; and the stronger passions have ever been 
 " permitted to the drama. I have avoided introducing the Deity, 
 , " as in Scripture, though Milton does, and not very wisely either ; 
 
 R
 
 X30 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 I cannot resist presenting the public with a drinking-song 
 composed one morning, — or perhaps evening, after one of 
 our dinners. 
 
 " Fill the goblet again, for I never before 
 
 " Felt the glow that now gladdens my heart to its core : 
 
 " Let us drink — who would not ? since, thro' life's varied round 
 
 " In the goblet alone no deception is found. 
 
 " but have adopted his angel as sent to Cain instead, on pvu'pose 
 
 " to avoid shocking any feelings on the subject, by falling short of 
 
 " what all luiinspired men must fall short in, — viz. giving an ade- 
 
 " (juate notion of the effect of the presence of Jehovah. The old 
 
 " Mysteries introduced Him liberally enough, and all this I avoided 
 
 " in the new one. 
 
 " The attempt to bully you because they think it will not succeed 
 " with me, seems as atrocious an attempt as ever disgraced the 
 " times. What ! when Gibbon's, Hume's, Priestley's, and Drum- 
 j " mond's publishers have been allowed to rest in peace for seventy 
 " years, are you to be singled out for a work of fiction, not of history 
 " or argiunent ? 
 
 " There must be something at eht bottom of tliis — some private
 
 t 
 LORD BYRON. 131 
 
 " I liave tried in its turn all that life can supply ; 
 
 " I have bask'd in the beams of a dark rolling eye ; 
 
 " I have lov'd — who has not ? but what tongue will declare 
 
 " That pleasure existed while passion was there ? 
 
 " In the days of our youth, when the heart 's in its spring, 
 " And dreams that affection can never take wing, 
 '• I had friends — who has not ? but what tongue will avow 
 " That friends, rosy wine, are so faithfiU as thou ? 
 
 " enemy of your own : it is otherwise incredible. I can only say, 
 
 " ' Me, me, adsum qui feci ;' that any proceedings against you may, 
 
 " I beg, be transferred to me, who am willing and ought to endure 
 
 " them all ; that if you have lost money by the publication, I will 
 
 " refund any or all of the copyright : that I desire you will say, 
 
 " that both you and Mr. Gilford remonstrated against the publica- 
 
 ' " tion, and also Mr. Hobhouse ; that I alone occasioned it, and I 
 
 " alone am the person who, either legally or otherwise, should bear 
 
 " the burthen. 
 
 " If they prosecute, I will come to England; that is, if by meet- 
 " ing in my own person I can save yours. Let me knoH. You 
 " shan't suffer for me, if I can help it. Make any use of this letter 
 " you please." 
 
 K 2
 
 132 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " The bi-east of a mistress some boy may estrange ; 
 
 " Friendship shifts with the sun-beam, — thou never canst change. 
 
 ," Thou grow'st old — who does not? but on earth what apjjcars, 
 
 " ^Vhc>se virtues, like thine, but increase with our years ? 
 
 " Yet if blest to the utmost that love can bestow, 
 
 " Should a rival bow down to our idol below, 
 
 " We are jealous — who 's not ? thou hast no such alloy, 
 
 " For the more that enjoy thee, the more they enjoy. 
 
 " When, the season of yovith and its jollities past, 
 
 " For refuge we fly to the goblet at last, 
 
 " Then we find — Mho does not ? in the flow of the soul, 
 
 " That truth, as of yore, is confin'd to the bowl. 
 
 " ^Vhen the box of Pandora was opened on earth, 
 
 " And Memory's triumph commenced over Mirth, 
 
 " Hope was left — was she not? but the goblet we kiss, 
 
 " And care not for hope, who are certain of bliss. 
 
 " Long life to the grape! and when summer is flown, 
 
 " The age of our nectar shall gladden my own. 
 
 " We must die — who does not ? may our sins be forgiven ! 
 
 " And Hebe shall never be idle in Heaven."
 
 LORD BYRON. 133 
 
 Dining witli liini another day, the subject of private 
 theatricals was introduced. 
 
 " I am very fond of a private theatre, " said he. " I 
 " remember myself and some friends at Cambridge getting 
 " up a play ; and that reminds me of a thing which hap- 
 " pened, that was very provoking in itself, but very hu- 
 " morous in its consequences. 
 
 " On the day of representation, one of the performers 
 " took it into his head to make an excuse, and his part was 
 " obliged to be read. Hobhouse came forward to apolo- 
 
 " ffize to the audience, and told them that a Mr. had 
 
 " declined to perform his part, &c. The gentleman was 
 " highly indignant at the ' a,' and had a great inclination to 
 " pick a quarrel with Scroope Davies, who replied, that he 
 
 " supposed Mr. wanted to be called the Mr. so and so. 
 
 " He ever after went by the name of the ' Definite Article.^ 
 
 " After this preface, to be less indefinite, suppose we 
 " were to get up a play. My hall, which is the largest in 
 " Tuscany, would make a capital theatre ; and we may send 
 " to Florence for an audience, if we cannot fill it here. 
 " And as to decorations, nothing is easier in any part of
 
 131 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Italy than to get them : besides that, WilHams will assist 
 " us." 
 
 It was accordingly agreed that we should commence with 
 " Othello."' Lord Byron was to be lago. Orders were to 
 be given for the fitting up of the stage, preparing the 
 dresses, &c., and rehearsals of a few scenes took place. 
 Perhaps Lord Byron would have made the finest actor in 
 the world. His voice had a flexibility, a variety in its tones, 
 a power and pathos beyond any I ever heard; and his coun- 
 tenance was capable of expressing the tenderest, as well as 
 the strongest emotions. I shall never forget his reading 
 lago's part in the handkerchief scene. 
 
 " Shakspeare was right," said he, after he had finished. 
 " in making Othello's jealousy turn upon that circum- 
 " stance.* The handkerchief is the strongest proof of 
 
 * Calderon says, in the Cis77ia (k l" Inglaterra, (I have not the oiiginal.) 
 
 " She gave me, too, a handkerchief, — a spell — 
 
 " A flattering pledge, my hopes to animate — ■ 
 
 " An astrologic favour — fatal prize 
 
 " That told too true what tears must weep these eyes I"
 
 LORD BYRON. 13.5 
 
 " love, not only among the Moors, but all Eastern nations : 
 " and yet they say that the plot of ' Marino Fahero' hangs 
 " upon too slight a cause." 
 
 All at once a difficulty arose about a Desdemona, and 
 the GuiccioU put her Veto on our theatricals. The influ- 
 ence of the Countess over Lord Byron reminded me of a 
 remark of Fletcher's, that Shelley once repeated to me as 
 having overheard :— " That it was strange every woman 
 should be able to manage his Lordship, but her Lady- 
 ship !" 
 
 Discussing the different actors of the day, he said : 
 
 " Dowton, who hated Kean, used to say that his Othello 
 " reminded him of Obi, or Three-fingered Jack, — not 
 " Othello. But, whatever his Othello might have been, 
 " Garrick himself never surpassed him in lago. I am told 
 " that Kean is not so great a favourite with the public since 
 " his return from America, and that party strengthened 
 " affainst him in his absence. I guess he could not have 
 " staid long enough to be spoiled ; though I calculate no 
 •' actor is improved by their stage. How do you reckon ?
 
 13() CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Kean began by acting Richard the Third when quite a 
 " boy, and gave all the promise of what he afterwards 
 " became. His Sir Giles Overreach was a wonderful per- 
 " formance. The actresses were afraid of him ; and he 
 " was afterwards so much exhausted himself, that he fell 
 " into fits. This, I am told, was the case with Miss 
 " ONeil.* 
 
 " Kemble did much towards the reform of our stage. 
 " Classical costume was almost unknown before he under- 
 " took to revise the dresses. Garrick used to act Othello 
 " in a red coat and epaulettes, and other characters had 
 " prescriptive habits equally ridiculous. I can conceive 
 " nothing equal to Kemble's Coriolanus ; and he looked 
 " the Roman so well, that even ' Cato,' cold and stiltish as 
 " it is, had a run. That shews what an actor can do for a 
 " play ! If he had acted ' Marino Faliero,' its fate would 
 " have been very different. 
 
 " Kemble pronounced several words affectedly, which 
 " should be cautiously avoided on the stage. It is no- 
 
 * And he might have added Pasta.
 
 LORD BYRON. 137 
 
 " thing that Campbell writes it Sepiilcrt in ' Hohenlin- 
 " den.' The Greek derivation is much against his pronini- 
 " ciation of ache." 
 
 He now began to mimic Kemble's voice and man- 
 ner of spouting, and imitated him inimitably in Prospero's 
 lines : 
 
 " ' Yea, the great globe itself, it shall dissolve, 
 " ' And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 " ' Leave not a 7'ack behind !' 
 
 " When half seas over, Kemble used to speak in blank- 
 " verse : and with practice, I don't think it would be 
 " difficult. Good prose resolves itself into blank-verse. 
 " Why should we not be able to improvise in hexameters, 
 " as well as the Italians ? Theodore Hook is an impro- 
 " visatore." 
 
 " The greatest genius in that way that perhaps Italy 
 ever produced," said Shelley, " is Sgricci." 
 
 " There is a great deal of knack in these gentry," replied 
 Lord Byron ; " their poetry is more mechanical than you 
 
 s
 
 138 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " suppose. More verses are written yearly in Italy, than 
 " millions of money are circulated. It is usual for every 
 " Italian gentleman to make sonnets to his mistress's eye- 
 " brow before he is married,— or the lady must be very un- 
 " inspiring indeed. 
 
 " But Sgricci ! To extemporize a whole tragedy seems a 
 " miraculous gift. I heard him improvise a five-act play 
 " at Lucca, on the subject of the ' Ipliigenia in Tauris,' and 
 " never was more interested. He put one of the finest 
 " speeches into the mouth of Iphigenia I ever heard. 
 " She compared her brother Orestes to the sole remaining 
 " pillar on which a temple hung tottering, in the act of 
 " ruin. The idea, it is true, is from Euripides, but he 
 " made it his own. I have never read his play since I was 
 " at school. I don't know how Sgricci's tragedies may 
 " appear in print, but his printed poetry is tame stuff. 
 
 " The inspiration of the improviser is quite a separate 
 " talent : — a consciousness of his own powers, his own elo- 
 " cution — the wondering and applauding audience, — all 
 " conspire to give him confidence ; but the deity forsakes 
 " him when he coldly sits down to think. Sgricci is not only 
 " a fine poet, but a fine actor. Mrs. Siddons," continued 
 Lord Byron, " was the beau ideal of acting ; Miss O'Neil
 
 LORD BYRON. 139 
 
 " I would not go to see, for fear of weakening the inipres- 
 " sion made by the queen of tragedians. When I read 
 " Lady Macbeth's part, I have Mrs. Siddons before me, 
 " and imagination even supphes her voice, whose tones were 
 " superhuman, and power over the heart supernatural. 
 
 " It is pleasant enough sometimes to take a peep be- 
 " hind, as well as to look before the scenes. 
 
 " I remember one leg of an elephant saying to another, 
 " ' D— n your eyes, move a little quicker ;' and overhear- 
 " ing at the Opera two people in love, who were so dk- 
 " traits that they made the responses between the inter- 
 " vals of the recitation, instead of during the recitation 
 « itself. One said to the other, ' Do you love me ?' then 
 " came the flourish of music, and the reply sweeter than 
 " the music, ' Can you doubt it ?' " 
 
 " I have just been reading Lamb's Specimens," said he, 
 " and am surprised to find in the extracts from the old 
 " dramatists so many ideas that I thought exclusively my 
 " own. Here is a passage, for instance, from 'The Duchess 
 " of Malfy,' astonishingly hke one in ' Don Juan.' 
 
 s2
 
 140 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " ' The leprosy of lust' I discover, too, is not mine. 
 " ' Thou tremhlest,' — ' 'Tis with age then,' which I am 
 " accused of borrowing from Otway, was taken from the 
 " Old Bailey proceedings. Some judge observed to the 
 " witness, ' Thou tremblest ;' — ' 'Tis with cold then,' was 
 " the reply. 
 
 " These Specimens of Lamb's I never saw till to- 
 
 " day. I am taxed with being a plagiarist, when I am 
 
 " least conscious of being one ; but I am not very scru- 
 
 " pulous, I own, when I have a good idea, how I 
 
 " came into possession of it. How can we tell to what 
 
 " extent Shakspeare is indebted to his contemporaries, 
 
 " whose works are now lost ? Besides which. Gibber 
 
 " adapted his plays to the stage. 
 
 " The invocation of the witches was, we know, a servile 
 " plagiarism from Middleton. Authors were not so squea- 
 " mish about borrowing from one another in those days. 
 " If it be a fault, I do not pretend to be immaculate. 
 " 1 will lend you some volumes of Shipwrecks, from 
 " which my storm in ' Don Juan' came. 
 
 " Lend me also ' Casti's Novelle,' " said L " Did you 
 never see in Italian, —
 
 LORD BYRON. 141 
 
 " Round her she makes an atmosphere of Ught ; 
 " The very air seemed Ughter from her eyes ?" 
 
 " The Germans," said he, "and I beUeve Goethe 
 
 " himself, consider that I have taken great Uberties 
 
 " with ' Faust.' All I know of that drama is from a sorry 
 
 " French translation, from an occasional reading or two 
 
 " into English of parts of it by Monk Lewis when at 
 
 " Diodati, and fiom the Hartz mountain-scene, that Shelley 
 
 " versified from the other day. Nothing I envy him so 
 
 " much as to be able to read that astonishing production 
 
 " in the original. As to originality, Goethe has too much 
 
 " sense to pretend that he is not under obligations to 
 
 " authors, ancient and modern ;— who is not ? You tell me 
 
 " the plot is almost entirely Calderon's. The fete, the 
 
 " scholar, the argument about the Logos, the selhng him- 
 
 " self to the fiend, and afterwards denying his power ; his 
 
 " disguise of the plumed cavalier ; the enchanted mirror, ~ 
 
 " are all from Cyprian. That magico prodigioso must be 
 
 " worth reading, and nobody seems to know any tiling 
 
 " about it but you and Shelley. Then the vision is not 
 
 " unhke that of Marlow's, in his ' Faustus.' The bed-scene 
 
 " is from ' Cymbeline ;' the song or serenade, a translation of 
 
 " Ophelia's, in ' Hamlet;' and, more than all, the prologue 
 
 " is from Job, which is the first drama in the world, and
 
 142 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " perhaps the oldest poem. I had an idea of writing a 
 " ' Job,' but I found it too sublime. There is no poetry to 
 " be compared with it." 
 
 I told him that Japhet's soliloquy in ' Heaven and 
 Earth,' and address to the mountains of Caucasus, strongly 
 resembled Faust's. 
 
 " I shall have commentators enough by and by," said 
 he, " to dissect my thoughts, and find owners for them." 
 
 " When I first saw the review of my ' Hours of Idleness,' * 
 " I was furious ; in such a rage as I never have been 
 " in since, 
 
 " I dined that day with Scroope Davies, and drank three 
 " bottles of claret to drown it; but it only boiled the more. 
 " That critique was a masterpiece of low wit, a tissue of 
 " scurrilous abuse. I remember there was a great deal of 
 " vulgar trash in it which was meant for humour, ' about 
 " people being thankful for what they could get,' — ' not 
 
 * Written in 1808.
 
 LORD BYRON. 143 
 
 " looking a gift horse in the mouth,' and such stable ex- 
 " pressions. The severity of ' The Quarterly' killed poor 
 " Keats, and neglect, Kirke White ; but I was made of 
 " different stuff, of tougher materials. So far from their 
 " bullying me, or deterring me from writing, I was bent on 
 " falsifying their raven predictions, and determined to shew 
 " them, croak as they would, that it was not the last time 
 " they should hear from me. I set to work immediately, 
 " and in good earnest, and produced in a year ' The Eng- 
 " lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers.' For the first four days 
 " after it was announced, I was very nervous about its fate. 
 " Generally speaking, the first fortnight decides the pub- 
 " lie opinion of a new book. This made a prodigious 
 " impression, more perhaps than any of my works, except 
 " ' The Corsair.' 
 
 " In less than a year and a half it passed through four 
 " editions, and rather large ones. To some of them, con- 
 " trary to the advice of my friends, I affixed my name. 
 " The thing was known to be mine, and I could not have 
 " escaped any enemies in not owning it ; besides, it was 
 " more manly not to deny it. There were many things in 
 " that satire which I was afterwards sorry for, and I wished 
 " to cancel it. If Galignani chose to reprint it, it was no
 
 144 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " fault of mine. I did my utmost to suppress the publi- 
 " cation, not only in England, but in Ireland. I will tell 
 " you my principal reason for doing so : I had good grounds 
 " to believe that Jeffrey (though perhaps really responsible 
 " for whatever appears in ' The Edinburgh,' as Gilford is for 
 " ' The Quarterly,' as its editor) was not the author of that 
 " article, — was not guilty of it. He disowned it ; and though 
 " he would not give up the aggressor, he said he would 
 " convince me, if I ever came to Scotland, who the person 
 " was. I have every reason to believe it was a certain 
 " lawyer, who hated me for something I once said of Mrs. 
 
 " . The technical language about 'minority pleas,' 
 
 " ' plaintiffs,' ' grounds of action,' &c. a jargon only intelli- 
 " gible to a lawyer, leaves no doubt in my mind on the 
 " subject. I bear no animosity to him now, though, inde- 
 " pendently of this lampoon, which does him no credit, 
 " he gave me cause enough of offence. 
 
 " The occasion was this : — In my separation-cause, that 
 " went before the Chancellor as a matter of form, when the 
 " proceedings came on, he took upon himself to apply 
 " some expressions, or make some allusions to me, which 
 " must have been of a most unwarrantable nature, as my 
 " friends consulted whether they should acquaint me with
 
 LORD BYRON. 145 
 
 " the purport of them. What they precisely were I never 
 " knew, or should certainly have made him retract them. 1 
 " met him afterwards at Coppet, but was not at that time 
 " acquainted with this circumstance. He took on himself 
 " the advocate also, in writing to Madame de Stael, and 
 " advising her not to meddle in the quarrel between Lady 
 " Byron and myself This was not kind ; it was a gratui- 
 '' tons and unfeed act of hostihty. But there was another 
 " reason that influenced me even more than my cooled re- 
 " sentment against Jeffrey, to suppress ' EngHsh Bards and 
 " Scotch Reviewers.' In the duel-scene I had unconscious- 
 " ly made part of the ridicule fall on Moore. The fact 
 " was, that there was no imputation on the courage of either 
 " of the principals. One of the balls fell out in the car- 
 " riage, and was lost ; and the seconds, not having a further 
 " supply, drew the remaining one. 
 
 " Shortly after this publication I went abroad: and 
 " Moore was so offended by the mention of the leadless 
 " pistols, that he addressed a letter to me in the nature 
 " of a challenge, delivering it to the care of Mr. Hanson, 
 " but without acquainting him with the contents. Tliis 
 " letter was mislaid,— -at least never forwarded to me. 
 
 T
 
 146 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " But, on my return to England in 1812, an enquiry was 
 " made by Moore, if I had received such a letter ? adding, 
 " that particular cii-cumstances (meaning his marriage, or 
 " perhaps the suppression of the satire) had now altered 
 " his situation, and that he wished to recall the letter, and 
 " to be known to me through Rogers. I was shy of this 
 " mode of arranging matters, one hand presenting a pistol, 
 " and another held out to shake ; and felt awkward at the 
 " loss of a letter of such a nature, and the imputation it 
 " might have given rise to. But when, after a considerable 
 " search, it was at length found, I returned it to Moore 
 " with the seal unbroken ; and we have since been the best 
 " friends in the world. I correspond with no one so regu- 
 " larly as with Moore. 
 
 " It is remarkable that I should at this moment number 
 " among my most intimate friends and correspondents 
 " those whom I most made the subjects of satire in ' Eng- 
 " lish Bards.' I never retracted my opinions of their 
 " works, — I never sought their acquaintance ; but there are 
 " men who can forgive and forget. The Laureate is not 
 " one of that disposition, and exults over the anticipated 
 " death-bed repentance of the objects of his hatred. 
 " Finding that his denunciations or panegyrics are of little
 
 LORD BYRON. 147 
 
 " or no avail here, he mdulges himself in a pleasant vision 
 " as to what will be their fate hereafter. The third Hea- 
 " ven is hardly good enough for a king, and Dante's worst 
 " berth in the ' Inferno' hardly bad enough for me. My 
 " kindness to his brother-in-law might have taught him to 
 " be more charitable. I said in a Note to ' The Two Fos- 
 " cari,' in answer to his vain boasting, that I had done 
 " more real good in one year than Mr. Southey in the 
 " whole course of his shifting and turn-coat existence, on 
 " which he seems to reflect with so much complacency. I 
 " did not mean to pride myself on the act to which I have 
 " just referred, and should not mention it to you, but that 
 " his self-sufficiency calls for the explanation. When Cole- 
 " ridge was in great distress, I borrowed 100/. to give 
 " him. " 
 
 Some days after this discussion appeared Mr. Southey's 
 reply to the Note in question. I happened to see ' The 
 Literary Gazette' at Mr. Edgeworth's, and mentioned the 
 general purport of the letter to Lord Byron during our 
 evening ride. His anxiety to get a sight of it was so great, 
 that he wrote me two notes in the course of the evening, 
 entreating me to procure the paper. I at length succeed- 
 ed, and took it to the Lanfranchi palace at eleven o'clock, 
 
 T 2
 
 148 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 (after coming from the opera,) an hour at which I was fre- 
 quently in the habit of calUng on him. 
 
 He had left the Guiccioli earUer than usual, and I found 
 him waiting with some impatience. I never shall forget 
 his countenance as he glanced rapidly over the contents. 
 He looked perfectly awful : his colour changed almost 
 prismatically ; his lips were as pale as death. He said not 
 a word. He read it a second time, and with more attention 
 than his rage at first permitted, commenting on some of the 
 passages as he went on. When he had finished, he threw 
 down the paper, and asked me if I thought there was any 
 thing of a personal nature in the reply that demanded 
 satisfaction ; as, if there was, he would instantly set off 
 for England and call Southey to an account,— muttering 
 something about whips, and branding-irons, and gibbets, 
 and wounding the heart of a woman, — words of Mr. 
 Southey's. I said that, as to personality, his own expres- 
 sions of " cowardly ferocity," " pitiful renegado," " hireling," 
 much stronger than any in the letter before me. He paused 
 a moment, and said : 
 
 " Perhaps you are right ; but I will consider of it. You 
 " have not seen my ' Vision of Judgment.' I wish I had a
 
 LORD BYRON. 149 
 
 " copy to shew you ; but the only one I have is in London. 
 '« I had almost decided not to pubUsh it, but it shall now go 
 " forth to the world. I will write to Douglas Kinnaird by 
 « to-morrow's post, to-night, not to delay its appearance. 
 " The question is, whom to get to print it. Murray will 
 " have nothing to say to it just now, while the prosecution 
 " of ' Cain' hangs over his head. It was offered to Long- 
 " man ; but he declined it on the plea of its injuring the 
 " sale of Southey's Hexameters, of which he is the pub- 
 " lisher. Hunt shall have it." 
 
 Another time he said : 
 
 " T am glad Mr. Southey owns that article on ' FoUage,' 
 " which excited my choler so much. But who else could 
 " have been the author ? Who but Southey would have 
 " had the baseness, under the pretext of reviewing the 
 " work of one man, insidiously to make it a nest egg for 
 " hatching mahcious calumnies against others ? 
 
 " It w^as bad taste, to say the least of it, in Shelley 
 " to write Ae^oc after his name at Mont Anvert. I knew 
 " httle of him at that time, but it happened to meet my eye, 
 " and I put my pen through the word, and Mwpoc too, that
 
 150 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " had been added by some one else by way of comment — • 
 " and a very proper comment too, and the only one that 
 " should have been made on it. There it should have stop- 
 " ped. It would have been more creditable to Mr. Sou- 
 " they's heart and feelings if he had been of this opinion ; 
 " he would then never have made the use of his travels he 
 " did, nor have raked out of an album the silly joke of a 
 " boy, in order to make it matter of serious accusation 
 " against him at home. I might well say he had impudence 
 " enough, if he could confess such infamy. I say nothing 
 " of the critique itself on ' Foliage ;' with the exception of 
 " a few sonnets, it was unworthy of Hunt. But what was the 
 " object of that article ? I repeat, to vilify and scatter his 
 " dark and devilish insinuations against me and others. 
 " Shame on the man who could wound an already bleeding 
 " heart, — be barbarous enough to revive the memory of a 
 " fatal event that Shelley was perfectly innocent of— and 
 " found scandal on falsehood ! Shelley taxed him with 
 " writing that article some years ago ; and he had the 
 " audacity to admit that he had treasured up some opinions 
 " of Shelley's, ten years before, when he was on a visit at 
 " Keswick, and had made a note of them at the time. 
 " But his bag of venom was not full ; it is the nature 
 " of the reptile. Why does a viper have a poison-tooth, 
 " or the scorpion claws ? "
 
 LORD BYRON. 151 
 
 Some days after these remarks, on calling on him one 
 morning, he produced ' The Deformed Transformed.' 
 Handing it to Shelley, as he was in the habit of doing his 
 daily compositions, he said : 
 
 " Shelley, I have been writing a Faustish kind of drama : 
 " tell me what you think of it." 
 
 After reading it attentively, Shelley returned it. 
 
 " Well," said Lord Byron, " how do you like it ? ' 
 
 " Least," replied he, " of any thing I ever saw of yours. 
 It is a bad imitation of ' Faust ; ' and besides, there are two 
 entire lines of Southey's in it. 
 
 Lord Byron changed colour immediately, and asked 
 hastily what lines ? Shelley repeated, 
 
 " ' And water shall see thee, 
 
 " ' And fear thee, and flee thee.' " 
 
 " They are in ' The Curse of Kehamah.' " 
 
 His Lordship, without making a single observation, in-
 
 152 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 stantly tlirew the poem into the fire. He seemed to feel no 
 chagrin at seeing it consume — at least his countenance 
 l>etrayed none, and his conversation became more gay and 
 lively than usual. Whether it was hatred of Southey, or 
 respect for Shelley's opinions, which made him commit an 
 act that I considered a sort of suicide, was always doubtful 
 to me. I was never more surprised than to see, two years 
 afterwards, ' The Deformed Transformed' announced ; 
 (supposing it to have perished at Pisa); but it seems 
 that he must have had another copy of the manuscript, 
 or had re-written it perhaps, without changing a word, 
 except omitting the * Kehama ' lines. His memory 
 was remarkably retentive of his own writings. I be- 
 lieve he could have quoted almost every line he ever 
 wrote. 
 
 One day a correspondent of Lord Byron's sent him from 
 Paris the following lines — a sort of epitaph for Southey — 
 which he gave me leave to copy. 
 
 " Beneath these poppies buried deep. 
 The bones of Bob the Bard lie hid ; 
 Peace to his manes ! and may he sleep 
 As soundly as his readers did !
 
 LORD BYRON. 153 
 
 Tlu'ough every sort of verse meandering, 
 
 Bob went without a hitch or fall. 
 Through Epic, Sapphic, Alexandiine, 
 
 To verse that was no verse at all ; 
 
 Till Fiction having done enough. 
 
 To make a bard at least absurd. 
 And give his readers quantum suff.. 
 
 He took to praising George the Third : 
 
 And now in virtue of his crown, 
 
 Dooms us, poor Whigs, at once to slaughter ; 
 Like Donellan of bad renown, 
 
 Poisoning us all with laurel water. 
 
 And yet at times some awkward qualms he 
 
 Felt about leaving honour's track ; 
 And though he has got a butt of Mahnsey, 
 
 It may not save him from a sack. 
 
 Death, weary of so dull a writer. 
 
 Put to his works a finis thus. 
 O ! may the earth on him lie lighter 
 
 Than did his quartos upon us ! " 
 
 u
 
 154 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " ' Heaven and Earth ' was commenced," said he, " at Ra- 
 " venna, on the 9th October last. It occupied about four- 
 " teen days. Douglas Kinnaird tells me that he can get 
 " no bookseller to publish it. It was offered to Murray, 
 " but he is the most timid of God's booksellers, and starts 
 " at the title. He has taken a dishke to that three-sylla- 
 " bled word Mystery, and says, I know not why, that it is 
 " another ' Cain.' I suppose he does not hke my making 
 " one of Cain's daughters talk the same language as her 
 " father's father, and has a prejudice against the family. I 
 " could not make her so unnatural as to speak ill of her 
 " grandfather. I was forced to make her aristocratical, 
 " proud of her descent from the eldest born. Murray 
 " says, that whoever prints it will have it pirated, as ' Cain' 
 " has been, — that a Court of justice will not sanction it as 
 " literary property. On what plea ? There is nothing ob- 
 " jectionable in it, that I am aware of You have read it ; 
 " what do you think ? If ' Cain' be immoral (which I deny), 
 " will not the Chancellor's refusal to protect, and the 
 " cheapness of a piratical edition, give it a wider circula- 
 " tion among the lower classes ? Will they not buy and read 
 " it for the very reason that it is considered improper, and 
 " try to discover an evil tendency where it was least 
 " meant ? May not impiety be extracted by garbling the
 
 T, O R 1) B Y R O N. 155 
 
 " Bible ? I defy the common people to understand such 
 " mysteries as the loves of the Angels, at least they are 
 " mysteries to me. Moore, too, is writing on the same text. 
 " Any thing that he writes must succeed." 
 
 I told him that the laughter of the fiends in the Cave of 
 Caucasus reminded me of the row of the Furies in the 
 ' Eumenides' of Jiischylus. 
 
 " I have never read any of his plays since I left Harrow," 
 said Lord Byron. " Shelley, when I was in Switzerland, 
 " translated the 'Prometheus' to me before I wrote my 
 " ode ; but I never open a Greek book. Shelley tells me 
 " that the choruses in ' Heaven and Earth' are deficient. 
 " He thinks that lyrical poetry should be metrically regular. 
 " Surely this is not the case with the Greek choruses that 
 " he makes such a fuss about. However, Hunt will be 
 " glad of it for his new periodical work. I talked of writ- 
 " ing a second part to it ; but it was only as Coleridge pro- 
 " mised a second part to ' Christabel.' I will tell you how 
 " I had an idea of finishing it : 
 
 " Let me see— where did I leave off? Oh, with Azazael 
 " and Samiasa refusing to obey the summons of Michael, 
 
 u 2
 
 156 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " and throwing off their allegiance to Heaven. They rise 
 " into the air with the two sisters, and leave this globe to a 
 " fate which, according to Cuvier, it has often undergone, 
 " and will undergo again. The appearance of the land 
 " strangled by the ocean will serve by way of scenery and 
 " decorations. The affectionate tenderness of Adah for 
 " those from whom she is parted, and for ever, and her 
 " fears contrasting with tlie loftier spirit of Aholibamah 
 " triumphing in the hopes of a new and greater destiny, 
 " will make the dialogue. They in the mean time continue 
 " their aerial voyage, every where denied admittance in 
 " those floating islands on the sea of space, and driven 
 " back by guardian-spirits of the different planets, till they 
 " are at length forced to alight on the only peak of the 
 " earth uncovered by water. Here a parting takes place 
 " between the lovers, which I shall make affecting enough. 
 " The fallen Angels are suddenly called, and condemned, — 
 " their destination and punishment unknown. The sisters 
 " still cling to the rock, the waters mounting higher and 
 " higher. Now enter Ark. The scene draws up, and 
 " discovers Japhet endeavouring to persuade the Patriarch, 
 " with very strong arguments of love and pity, to receive 
 " the sisters, or at least Adah, on board. Adah joins in 
 " his entreaties, and endeavours to cling to the sides of
 
 LORD BYRON. 157 
 
 " the vessel. The proud and haughty AhoUbamah scorns 
 " to pray either to God or man, and anticipates the grave 
 " by plunging into the waters. Noah is still inexorable. 
 " The surviving daughter of Cain is momentarily in dan- 
 " ger of perishing before the eyes of the Arkites. Japhet 
 " is in despair. The last wave sweeps her from the rock, 
 " and her lifeless corpse floats past in all its beauty, whilst 
 " a sea-bird screams over it, and seems to be the spirit of 
 " her angel lord. I once thought of conveying the lovers 
 " to the moon, or one of the planets ; but it is not easy 
 ^2=^ " for the imagination to make any unknown world more 
 " beautiful than this ; besides, I did not think they would 
 " approve of the moon as a residence. I remember what 
 " Fontenelle said of its having no atmosphere, and the 
 " dark spots being caverns where the inhabitants reside. 
 " There was another objection : all the human interest 
 " would have been destroyed, which I have even endea- 
 " voured to give my Angels. It was a very Irish kind of 
 " compliment Jeffrey paid to Moore's ' Lalla Rookh,' when 
 " he said the loves were those of Angels ; meaning that 
 " they were like nothing on earth. What will he say of 
 " 'The Loves of the Angels ? '—that they are like (for he 
 " has nothing left) nothing in Heaven ?"
 
 158 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I wrote ' The Prophecy of Dante' at the suggestion 
 " of the Countess. I was at that time paying my court to 
 " the Guiccioh, and addressed the dedicatory sonnet to her. 
 " She had heard of my having written something about 
 " Tasso, and thought Dante's exile and death would furnish 
 " as fine a subject. T can never write but on the spot. 
 " Before I began ' The Lament,' I went to Ferrara, to visit 
 " the Dungeon. Hoppner was with me, and part of it, the 
 " greater part, was composed (as ' The Prisoner of Chillon') in 
 " the prison. The place of Dante's fifteen years' exile, where 
 " he so pathetically prayed for his country, and deprecated 
 " the thought of being buried out of it ; and the sight of 
 " his tomb, which I passed in my almost daily rides, — in- 
 " spired me. Besides, there was somewhat of resemblance* 
 
 * " The day may come she would be proud to have 
 " The dust she doom'd to strangers, and transfer 
 " Of him whom she denied a home — the grave." 
 
 Prophecy of Dante. 
 
 " Where now my boys are, and that fatal she " — 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 " They made an exile, not a slave of me." 
 
 I/nd.
 
 LORD BYRON. 159 
 
 " in our destinies — he had a wife, and I have the same 
 " feeUngs about leaving my bones in a strange land. 
 
 " I had, however, a much more extensive view in writing 
 " that poem than to describe either his banishment or his 
 " grave. Poets are sometimes shrewd in their conjectures. 
 " You quoted to me the other day a line in ' Childe Ha- 
 " rold,' in which I made a prediction about the Greeks * : 
 " in this instance I was not so fortunate as to be prophetic. 
 *' This poem was intended for the Italians and the 
 " Guiccioli, and therefore I wished to have it translated. 
 " I had objected to the Versi sciolti having been used 
 " in my Fourth Canto of ' Childe Harold ; ' but this was 
 " the very metre they adopted in defiance of my remon- 
 " strance, and in the very teeth of it; and yet I believe 
 " the Italians Uked the work. It was looked at in a poli- 
 " tical light, and they indulged in my dream of liberty, 
 " and the resurrection of Italy. Alas ! it was only a 
 " dream! 
 
 * " Will Gaul or Muscovite redi-ess ye ? No." 
 
 Childe Harold, Canto II. Stanza 75.
 
 160 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Terza Rima does not seem to suit the genius of English 
 " poetry — it is certainly un calculated for a work of any 
 " length. In our language, however, it may do for a short 
 " ode. The public at least thought my attempt a failure, 
 '' and the public is in the main right. I never perse- 
 " cute the public. I always bow to its verdict, which 
 " is generally just. But if I had wanted a sufficient 
 " reason for my giving up the Prophecy — the Prophecy 
 " failed me. 
 
 " It was the turn political affairs took that made me re- 
 " linquish the work. At one time the flame was expected 
 " to break out over all Italy, but it only ended in smoke, 
 " and my poem went out with it. I don't wonder at the 
 " enthusiasm of the Italians about Dante. He is the poet 
 " of liberty. Persecution, exile, the dread of a foreign 
 " grave, could not shake his principles. There is no Ita- 
 " lian gentleman, scarcely any well-educated girl, that has 
 " not all the finer passages of Dante at the fingers' ends, — 
 " particularly the Ravennese. The Guiccioli, for instance, 
 " could almost repeat any part of the * Divine Comedy;' 
 " and, I dare say, is well read in the ' Vita Nuova,' that 
 " prayer-book of love.
 
 LORD BYRON. IQI 
 
 " Shelley always says that reading Dante is unfavourable 
 " to writing, from its superiority to all possible composi- 
 " tions. Whether he be the first or not, he is certainly the 
 " most untranslatable of all poets. You may give the 
 " meaning ; but the charm, the simplicity — the classical 
 " simplicity, — is lost. You might as well clothe a statue, 
 " as attempt to translate Dante. He is better, as an Ita- 
 " lian said, ' nudo che vestito.' 
 
 " There's Taafe is not satisfied with what Carey has 
 " done, but he must be traduci?ig him too. What think 
 
 you of that fine line in the ' Inferno' being rendered, 
 " as Taafe has done it ? 
 
 " ' I Mantuan, capering, squalid, squalling.' 
 
 There 's alliteration and inversion enough, surely ! I 
 have advised him to frontispiece his book with his own 
 " head, Capo di Traditore, ' the head of a traitor ;' then 
 " will come the title-page comment— Hell !" 
 
 I asked Lord Byron the meaning of a passage in ' The 
 Prophecy of Dante.' He laughed, and said : 
 
 X
 
 162 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I suppose I had some meaning when I wrote it : 1 
 " believe I understood it then." * 
 
 " That," said I, " is what the disciples of Swedenberg say. 
 There are many people who do not understand passages 
 in your writings, among our own countrymen : I wonder 
 how foreigners contrive to translate them." 
 
 " And yet," said he, " they have been translated into all 
 " the civilized, and many uncivilized tongues. Several of 
 " them have appeared in Danish, Polish, and even Russian 
 " dresses. These last, being translations of translations 
 " from the French, must be very diluted. The greatest 
 " compliment ever paid me has been shewn in Germany, 
 " where a translation of the Fourth Canto of ' Childe 
 " Harold" has been made the subject of a University prize. 
 
 * " If you insist on grammar, though 
 " I never think about it in a heat — " 
 
 Don Juan, Canto VII. Stanza 42. 
 
 " I don't pretend that I quite understand 
 
 " My own meaning when I would be very fine." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto IV. Stanza 5.
 
 LORD BYRON. 163 
 
 " But as to obscurity, is not Milton obscure ? How do 
 
 " you explain 
 
 " ' Smoothing 
 
 " ' The raven down of darkness till it smiled !' 
 
 " Is it not a simile taken from the electricity of a cat's 
 " back ? I'll leave you to be my commentator, and hope 
 " you will make better work with me than Taafe is doing 
 " with Dante, who perhaps could not himself explain half 
 " that volumes are written about, if his ghost were to rise 
 " again from the dead. I am sure I wonder he and Shak- 
 " speare have not been raised by their commentators long 
 " ago !" 
 
 " People are always advising me," said he, " to write an 
 " epic. You tell me that I shall leave no great poem 
 " behind me ;— that is, I suppose you mean by great, a 
 " heavy poem, or a weighty poem; I beheve they are 
 " synonymous. You say that ' Childe Harold' is unequal ; 
 " that the last two Cantos are far superior to the two first. 
 " I know it is a thing without form or substance,— a voyage 
 " pittoresque. But who reads Milton ? My opinion as to 
 " the inequaUty of my poems is this,— that one is not 
 
 X 2
 
 164 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " better or worse than another. And as to epics,— have 
 •' you not got enough of Southey's ? There 's ' Joan 
 " d'Arc,' 'The Curse of Kehama/ and God knows how 
 " many more curses, down to ' The Last of the Goths !' 
 " If you must have an epic, there's 'Don Juan' for you. 
 " I call that an epic * : it is an epic as much in the spirit of 
 " our day as the Iliad was in Homer's. Love, religion, 
 " and politics form the argument, and are as much the 
 " cause of quarrels now as they were then. There is no 
 " want of Parises and Menelauses, and of Crim.-cons. into 
 " the bargain. In the very first Canto you have a Helen. 
 " Then, I shall make my hero a perfect Achilles for fight- 
 *' ing, — a man who can snuiF a candle three successive 
 " times with a pistol-ball : and, depend upon it, my moral 
 " will be a good one ; not even Dr. Johnson should be 
 " able to find a flaw in it ! 
 
 " Some one has possessed the Guiccioli with a notion 
 " that my ' Don Juan' and the Don Giovanni of the Opera 
 " are the same person ; and to please her I have discon- 
 
 * Only five Cantos of ' Don Juan' were written when I held this 
 conversation with him, which was committed to paper half an hour 
 after it occurred.
 
 LORD BYRON. 155 
 
 " tinned his history and adventures ; but if I should re- 
 " sume them, I will tell you how I mean him to go on. 
 " I left him in the seraglio there. I shall make one of 
 " the favourites, a Sultana, (no less a personage,) fall in 
 " love with him, and carry him off from Constantinople. 
 " Such elopements are not uncommon, nor unnatural 
 " either, though it would shock the ladies to say they 
 " are ever to blame. Well, they make good their escape 
 " to Russia; where, if Juan's passion cools, and I don't 
 " know what to do with the lady, I shall make her die of 
 " the plague. There are accounts enough of the plague 
 " to be met with, from Boccaccio to De Foe ; — but I have 
 " seen it myself, and that is worth all their descriptions. 
 " As our hero can't do without a mistress, he shall next 
 " become man-mistress to Catherine the Great. Queens 
 " have had strange fancies for more ignoble people before 
 " and since. I shall, therefore, make him cut out the 
 " ancestor of the young Russian, and shall send him, when 
 " he is horn de combat, to England as her ambassador. In 
 " his suite he shall have a girl whom he shall have res- 
 " cued during one of his northern campaigns, who shall 
 " be in love with him, and he not with her. 
 
 " You see I am true to Nature in making the advances
 
 166 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " come from the females. I shall next draw a town and 
 " country life at home, which will give me room for life, 
 " manners, scenery, &c. I will make him neither a dandy 
 " in town nor a fox-hunter in the country. He shall get 
 " into all sorts of scrapes, and at length end his career in 
 " France. Poor Juan shall be guillotined in the French 
 " Revolution ! What do you think of my plot ? It shall 
 " have twenty-four books too, the legitimate number. 
 " Episodes it has, and will have, out of number ; and my 
 " spirits, good or bad, must serve for the machinery. If 
 " that be not an epic, if it be not strictly according to 
 " Aristotle, I don't know what an epic poem means." 
 
 " Murray," said he, " pretends to have lost money by my 
 " writings, and pleads poverty ; but if he is poor, which is 
 " somewhat problematical to me, pray who is to blame ? 
 " The fault is in his having purchased, at the instance of 
 " his great friends, during the last year, so many expensive 
 " Voyages and Travels*, which all his influence with 'The 
 
 * " Death to his publisher — to him 'tis sport." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto V. Stanza 52.
 
 LORD BYRON. 167 
 
 " Quarterly' cannot persuade people to buy, cannot pufF into 
 " popularity. The Cookery-book (which he has got a law- 
 " suit about) has been for a long time his sheet-anchor; but 
 " they say he will have to re-fund— the worst of funds. 
 " Mr. Murray is tender of my fame ! How kind in him ! He 
 " is afraid of my writing too fast. Why? because he has 
 " a tenderer regard for his own pocket, and does not like 
 " the look of any new acquaintance, in the shape of a 
 " book of mine, till he has seen his old friends in a va- 
 " riety of new faces; id est, disposed of a vast many 
 " editions of the former works. I don't know what 
 " would become of me without Douglas Kinnaird, who 
 " has always been my best and kindest friend. It is 
 " not easy to deal with Mr. Murray. 
 
 " Murray offered me, of his own accord, 1000/. a Canto 
 " for ' Don Juan,' and afterwards reduced it to 500/. on 
 " the plea of piracy, and complained of my dividing one 
 " Canto into two, because I happened to say something 
 " at the end of the Third about having done so. It is true 
 " enough that ' Don Juan' has been pirated; but whom has 
 " he to thank but himself? In the first place, he put too 
 " high a price on the copies of the two first Cantos that 
 " came out, only printing a quarto edition, at, I think, a
 
 168 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " guinea and a half. There was a great demand for it, 
 " and this induced the knavish booksellers to buccaneer. 
 " If he had put John Murray on the title-page, like a 
 " man, instead of smuggling the brat into the world, and 
 " getting Davison, who is a printer and not a publisher, 
 " to father it, who would have ventured to question his 
 " paternal rights ? or who would have attempted to 
 " deprive him of them ? 
 
 " The thing was plainly this: he disowned and refused 
 " to acknowledge the bantling; the natural consequence 
 " was, that others should come forward to adopt it. 
 " Mr. John Murray is the most nervous of God's book- 
 " sellers. When ' Don Juan ' first came out, he was so 
 " frightened that he made a precipitate retreat into the 
 " country, shut himself up, and would not open his letters. 
 " The fact is, he prints for too many Bishops. He is 
 " always boring me with piratical edition after edition, to 
 " prove the amount of his own losses, and furnish proof of 
 " the extent of his own folly. Here is one at two-and-six- 
 " pence that came only yesterday. 1 do not pity him. 
 " Because I gave him one of my poems, he wanted to make 
 " me believe that 1 had made him a present of two others, 
 " and hinted at some lines in ' English Bards ' that were
 
 LORD BYRON. 169 
 
 certainly to tlie point. But I have altered my iiiind con- 
 siderably upon that subject : as I once hinted to him, I 
 see no reason why a man should not profit by the sweat 
 of his brain, as well as that of his brow, &c. ; besides, I 
 was poor at that time, and have no idea of aggrandizing 
 booksellers. I was in Switzerland when he made this 
 modest request, — and he always entertained a spite 
 against Shelley for making the agreement, and fixing the 
 price, which I believe was not dear, for the Third Canto of 
 ' Childe Harold; ' Manfred, and ' The Prisoner of Chillon,' 
 &c. — I got 2400/. Depend on it, he did not lose money 
 — he was not ruined by that speculation. 
 
 " Murray has long prevented ' The Quarterly' from abus- 
 " ing me. Some of its bullies have had their fingers itching 
 " to be at me ; but they would get the worst of it in a set-to." 
 (Here he put himself in a boxing attitude.) " I perceive, 
 " however, that we shall have some sparring ere long. I 
 " don't wish to quarrel with Murray, but it seems inevitable. 
 " I had no reason to be pleased with him the other day. 
 " Galignani wrote to me, offering to purchase the copyright 
 " of my works, in order to obtain an exclusive privilege of 
 " printing them in France. 1 might have made my own 
 " terms, and put the money in my own pocket ; instead of 
 
 Y
 
 170 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " which, 1 enclosed Galignani's letter to Murray, in order 
 " that he might conclude the matter as he pleased. He did 
 " so, very advantageously for his own interest ; but never 
 " had the complaisance, the common politeness, to thank 
 " me, or acknowledge my letter. My differences with 
 " Murray are not over. When he purchased ' Cain,' ' The 
 " Two Foscari,' and ' Sardanapalus,' he sent me a deed, 
 " which you may remember witnessing. Well : after its 
 
 " return to England, it was discovered that * * 
 
 ******** 
 
 ******** 
 *****#** 
 
 " But I shall take no notice of it. " 
 
 Some time afterwards he said : 
 
 " Murray and I have made up our quarrel ; at least, it is 
 " not my fault if it should be renewed. The Parsons have 
 " been at him about 'Cain.' An Oxonian has addressed a 
 " bullying letter to him, asking him how so moral a book- 
 " seller can stain his press with so profane a book ? He 
 " is threatened with a prosecution by the Anti-constitutional 
 " Society. I don't believe they will venture to attack him : 
 " if they do, I shall go home and make my own defence."
 
 LORD BYRON. m 
 
 Lord Byron wrote the same day the letter contained in 
 the Notes on ' Cain.' Some months afterwards he said 
 in a letter: 
 
 " Murray and I have dissolved all connection. He 
 " had the choice of j2;iving up me or the ' N avy Lists. ' 
 " There was no hesitation which way he should decide : 
 " the Admiralty carried the day. Now for 'The Quar- 
 " terly :' their batteries will be opened ; but I can fire 
 " broadsides too. They have been letting off lots of squibs 
 " and crackers against me, but they only make a noise 
 "and * * * " 
 
 In a letter dated from Genoa the 5th of May, 1823, he 
 
 says : 
 
 " ' Werner' was the last book Murray published for 
 " me, and three months after came out the Quarterly's 
 " article on my plays, when ' Marino Faliero' was noticed 
 " for the first time," &c. 
 
 " I need not say that I shall be dehghted by your in- 
 '-' scribing your * Wanderer' to me ; but I would recom- 
 " mend you to think twice before you inscribe a work to 
 
 Y 2
 
 172 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' me, as you must be aware that at present I am the 
 " most unpopular writer going*, and the odium on the 
 ■' dedicatee may recur on the dedicator. If" you do not 
 " think this a vahd objection, of course there can be none 
 ■' on my part," &c. 
 
 On my speaking to him with great praise one day of 
 Coleridge's ' Ancient Mariner,' Lord Byron said : 
 
 " I have been mvich taken to task for calhng ' Christa- 
 " bel ' a wild and singularly original and beautiful poem ; 
 " and the Reviewers very sagely come to a conclusion 
 " therefrom, that I am no judge of the compositions of 
 " others. ' Christabel' was the origin of all Scott's metrical 
 " tales, and that is no small merit. It was written in 1795, 
 " and had a pretty general circulation in the literary 
 " world, though it was not published till 1816, and then 
 " probably in consequence of my advice. One day, when 
 
 * " But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero 
 
 " My Leipsic, and ray Mont St. Jean seems Cain." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 56.
 
 LORD BYRON. 173 
 
 " I was with Walter Scott (now many years ago) he 
 
 " repeated the whole of ' Christabel,' and I then agreed 
 
 " with him in thinking this poem what I afterwards called 
 
 " it. Sir Walter Scott recites admirably. I was rather 
 
 " disappointed when I saw it in print ; but still there are 
 
 " finer things in it than in any tale of its length ; the proof 
 
 " of which is, that people retain them without effort. 
 
 " What do you think of the picture of an English Oc- 
 " tober day ? 
 
 " ' There is not wind enough to twirl 
 
 " The one red leaf, the last of its clan, 
 
 *' That dances as long as dance it can, 
 
 " Hanging so light, and hanging so high, 
 
 " On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.' 
 
 " Some eight or ten lines of ' Christabel' * found them- 
 " selves in ' The Sieije of Corinth,' I hardly know how ; hut 
 
 * " Was it the wind through some hollow stone, 
 
 " Sent that soft and tender moan ? 
 
 " He lifted his head—" &c. 
 
 Siege of Corinth.
 
 174 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I adopted another passage, of greater beauty, as a motto 
 " to a little work I need not name *, and paraphrased 
 " without scruple the same idea in 'Childe Harold.' I 
 " thought it good because I felt it deeply— the best test 
 " of poetry. His psychological poem was always a great 
 " favourite of mine, and but for me would not have 
 " appeared. What perfect harmony of versification !" 
 
 And he began spouting ' Kubla Khan :' 
 
 " ' It was an Abyssinian maid, 
 " And on her dulcimer she play'd, 
 " Singing of Mount Abora' — 
 
 " Madame de Stael was fond of reciting poetry that 
 " had hardly any thing but its music to recommend it." 
 
 " And pray," asked I, " what has ' Kubla Khan ?' " 
 
 " I can't tell you," said he ; " but it delights me." 
 
 And he went on till he had finished the Vision. 
 
 * The stanzas beginning " Fare thee well !"
 
 LORD BYRON. I75 
 
 " I was very much amused with Coleridge's ' Memoirs.' 
 " There is a great deal of bonhommit in that book, and he 
 " does not spare himself. Nothing, to me at least, is so 
 " entertaining as a work of this kind — as private biography : 
 " ' Hamilton's Memoirs,' for instance, that were the origin of 
 " the style of Voltaire. Madame de Stael used to say, that 
 " ' De Grammont' was a book containing, with less matter, 
 " more interest than any she knew. Alfieri's 'Life' is delight- 
 " ful. You will see my Confessions in good time, and you will 
 " wonder at two things — that I should have had so much 
 " to confess, and that I should have confessed so much. 
 " Coleridge, too, seems sensible enough of his own errors. 
 " His sonnet to the Moon is an admirable burlesque on the 
 " Lakists, and his own style. Some of his stories are told 
 " with a vast deal of humour, and display a fund of good 
 " temper that all his disappointments could not sour. 
 " Many parts of his ' Memoirs ' are quite unintelligible, and 
 " were, I apprehend, meant for Kant ; on the proper pro- 
 " nunciation of whose name I heard a long argument the 
 " other evening. 
 
 " Coleridge is like Sosia in ' Amphytrion ;' — he does not 
 " know whether he is himself, or not. If he had never 
 " gone to Germany, nor spoilt his fine genius by the tran-
 
 X76 CONVERSxVTIONS OF 
 
 " scendental philosophy and German metaphysics, nor 
 " taken to write lay sermons, he would have made the 
 " greatest poet of the day. What poets had we in 1795 ? 
 " Hayley had got a monopoly, such as it was. Coleridge 
 " might have been any thing : as it is, he is a thing ' that 
 " dreams are made of.' " 
 
 Being one day at Moloni's the bookseller's at Pisa, 
 a report was in circulation that a subject belonging to tlie 
 Lucchese States had been taken up for sacrilege, and sen- 
 tenced to be burnt alive. A priest who entered the library 
 at that moment confirmed the news, and expressed himself 
 thus : — " Scelerato !" said he, " he took the consecrated 
 wafers off the altar, and threw them contemptuously about 
 the church ! What punishment can be great enough for 
 such a monstrous crime ? Burning is too easy a death ! 
 I shall go to Lucca,— I would almost go to Spain,— to see 
 the wretch expire at the stake !" Such were the humane 
 and Christian sentiments of a minister of the Gospel ! I 
 quitted him with disgust, and immediately hastened to 
 Lord Byron's. 
 
 " Is it possible ?" said he, after he had heard my story.
 
 LORD BYRON. 177 
 
 " Can we believe that we live in the nineteenth century ? 
 ,: " However, I can believe any thing of the Duchess of 
 " Lucca. She is an Infanta of Spain, a bigot in religion, 
 " and of course advocates the laws of the Inquisition. 
 " But it is scarcely credible that she will venture to put 
 " them into effect here. We must endeavour to prevent 
 " this auto da ft. Lord Guilford is arrived : — we will 
 " get him to use his influence. Surely the Grand Duke of 
 " Tuscany will interfere, for he has himself never signed 
 " a death-Avarrant since he came upon the throne." 
 
 Shelley entered at this moment horror-struck : he had 
 just heard that the criminal was to suffer the next day. 
 He proposed that we should mount and arm ourselves as 
 well as we could, set off immediately for Lucca, and endea- 
 vour to rescue the prisoner when brought out for execution, 
 making at full speed for the Tuscan frontiers, where he 
 would be safe. Mad and hopeless as the scheme was. 
 Lord Byron consented, carried away by his feelings, to join 
 in it, if other means should fail. We agreed to meet again 
 in the evening, and in the mean time to get a petition 
 signed by all the English residents at Pisa, to be presented 
 to the Grand Duke.
 
 178 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I will myself, " said he, " write immediately to Lord 
 " Guilford." 
 
 He did so, and received an answer a few hours after, 
 telling him that the same report had reached Lord Guil- 
 ford; but that he had learned, on investigation, that it 
 was unfounded. 
 
 It appeared that the Duchess had issued a proclamation 
 which made the peasant amenable, when apprehended, to 
 the ancient laws of Spain ; but that he had escaped to 
 Florence and given himself up to the police, who had sti- 
 pulated not to make him over to the authorities at Lucca, 
 but on condition of his being tried by the Tuscan laws. 
 
 Speaking of Coppet and Madame de Stael, he said : 
 
 " I knew Madame de Stael in England. When she 
 " came over she created a great sensation, and was much 
 " courted in the literary as well as the political world. 
 " On the supposition of her being a Liberal, she was 
 " invited to a party, where were present Whitbread, 
 " Sheridan, and several of the Opposition leaders.
 
 LORD BYRON. 179 
 
 " To the great horror of the former, she soon sported 
 " her Ultraisnis. No one possessed so httle tact as Ma- 
 " dame de Stael,~which is astonishing in one who had 
 " seen so much of the world and of society. She used 
 " to assemble at her routs politicians of both sides of the 
 " House, and was fond of setting two party-men by the 
 " ears in argument. I once witnessed a curious scene of 
 " this kind. She was battling it very warmly, as she used 
 " to do, with Canning, and all at once turned round to 
 " (I think he saidj Lord Grey, who was at his elbow, for his 
 " opinion. It was on some point upon which he could not 
 " but most cordially disagree. She did not understand 
 " London society, and was always sighing for her coterie 
 " at Paris. The dandies took an invincible dislike to 
 " the De Staels, mother and daughter. Brummel was her 
 " aversion ; — she, his. There was a double marriage 
 " talked of in town that season :— Auguste (the present 
 " Baron) was to have married Miss Millbank ; I, the 
 " present Duchess of Broglio. I could not have been 
 " worse embroiled. 
 
 " Madame de Stael had great talent in conversation, and 
 " an overpowering flow of words. It was once said of a 
 
 z 2
 
 180 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " large party that were all trying to shine, ' There is not 
 " one who can go home and think.' This was not the 
 " case with her. She was often troublesome, some thought 
 " rude, in her questions; but she never offended me, 
 " because I knew that her inquisitiveness did not proceed 
 " from idle curiosity, but from a wish to sound people's 
 " characters. She was a continual interrogatory to me, in 
 " order to fathom mine, which requires a long plumb line. 
 " She once asked me if my real character was well drawn 
 " in a favourite novel of the day (' Glenarvon'). She was 
 " only singular in putting the question in the dry way 
 " she did. There are many who pin their faith on that 
 " insincere production. 
 
 " No woman had so much bonne foi as Madame de Stael : 
 " hers was a real kindness of heart. She took the greatest 
 " possible interest in my quarrel with Lady Byron, or 
 " rather Lady Byron's with me, and had some influence 
 " over my wife, — as much as any person but her mother, 
 " which is not saying much. I believe Madame de Stael 
 " did her utmost to bring about a reconciliation between 
 " us. She was the best creature in the world. 
 
 " Women never see consecpiences — never look at things
 
 LORD BYRON. 181 
 
 " Straight forward, or as they ought. Like figurantes at 
 '* the Opera, they make a hundred pirouettes and return 
 " to where they set out. With Madame de Stael this was 
 " sometimes the case. She was very indefinite and vague 
 ; " in her manner of expression. In endeavouring to be new 
 
 '^/V<i^>^ " she became often obscure, and sometimes uninteUigible. 
 
 " What did she mean by saying that ' Napoleon was a 
 " system, and not a man ?' 
 
 " I cannot beheve that Napoleon was acquainted with 
 " all the petty persecutions that she used to be so gar- 
 " rulous about, or that he deemed her of sufficient ira- 
 " portance to be dangerous: besides, she admired him 
 " so much, that he might have gained her over by a 
 " word. But, like me, he had perhaps too great a con- 
 " tempt for women; he treated them as puppets, and 
 " thought he could make them dance at any time by 
 " pulling the wires. That story of ' Gardez vos enfans' did 
 " not tell much in her favour, and proves what I say. I 
 " shall be curious to see Las Cases' book, to hear what 
 " Napoleon's real conduct to her was." 
 
 I told him I could never reconcile the contradictory 
 opinions he had expressed of Napoleon in his poems.
 
 182 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " How could it be otherwise ?" said he. " Some of them 
 " were called translations, and I spoke in the character of 
 " a Frenchman and a soldier. But Napoleon was his own 
 " antithesis (if I may say so). He was a glorious tyrant, 
 " after all. Look at his public works ; compare his face, 
 " even on his coins, with those of the other sovereigns of 
 " Europe. I blame the manner of his death: he shewed 
 " that he possessed much of the Italian character in con- 
 " senting to live. There he lost himself in his dramatic 
 " character, in my estimation. He was master of his own 
 " destiny ; of that, at least, his enemies could not deprive 
 " him. He shovdd have gone off the stage like a hero : it 
 " was expected of him. 
 
 " Madame de Sta'el, as an historian, should have named 
 " him in her ' Allemagne ;' she was wrong in suppress- 
 " ing his name, and he had a right to be offended. Not 
 " that I mean to justify his persecutions. These, I can- 
 " not help thinking, must have arisen indirectly from some 
 " private enemy. But we shall see. 
 
 " She was always aiming to be brilliant — to produce a 
 " sensation, no matter how, when, or where. She wanted 
 " to make all her ideas, like figures in the modern French
 
 LORD BYRON. 183 
 
 " school of painting, prominent and shewy,— standing out 
 " of the canvass, each in a Hght of its own. She was vain ; 
 " but who had an excuse for vanity if she had not ? I can 
 " easily conceive her not wishing to change her name, or 
 " acknowledge that of Rocca. I liked Rocca ; he was a 
 " gentleman and a clever man ; no one said better things, 
 " or w ith a better grace. The remark about the Meillerie 
 " road that I quoted in the Notes of ' Childe Harold,' ' La 
 " route vaiit mieux que les souvenirs,' was the observation of 
 " a thorough Frenchman." 
 
 " Here is a letter I have had to-day, " said he. " The 
 " writer is a stranger to me, and pleads great distress. He 
 " says he has been an officer in the East India service, and 
 " makes out a long hst of grievances, against the Company 
 
 " and a Mr. S ■. He charges the Government with send- 
 
 " ing him home without a trial, and breaking him without 
 " a Court-martial; and complains that a travelling gen- 
 " tleman, after having engaged him as an interpreter to 
 " accompany him to Persia, and put him to great expense 
 " in preparations for the journey, has all at once changed 
 " his mind, and refused to remunerate him for his lost 
 " time, or pay him any of the annual stipend he had fixed
 
 134 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " to ffive him. His name seems to be . You have 
 
 " been at Bombay,— do you know him ? 
 
 " No," answered I ; " but I know his story. He was 
 thought to have been hardly used. As to the other part 
 of his complaint, I know nothing." 
 
 " He asks me for 50/. I shall send it him by to-mor- 
 " row's post : there is no courier to-day." 
 
 " Who would not wish to have been born two or three 
 " centuries later?" said he, putting into my hand an 
 Italian letter. " Here is a savant of Bologna, who pretends 
 " to have discovered the manner of directing balloons by 
 " means of a rudder, and tells me that he is ready to ex- 
 " plain the nature of his invention to our Government. 
 " I suppose we shall soon travel by air-vessels ; make 
 " air instead of sea-voyages ; and at length find our way 
 " to the moon, in spite of the want of atmosphere." * 
 
 * " Steam-engines will convey him to the moon." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 2.
 
 LORD BYRON. 185 
 
 " Ccelum ipsutn petimus stultiti/i," said I. 
 
 " There is not so much folly as you may suppose, 
 " and a vast deal of poetry, in the idea, " replied Lord 
 Byron. " Where shall we set bounds to the power of 
 " steam ? Who shall say, ' Thus far shalt thou go, and no 
 " farther ?' We are at present in the infancy of science. 
 " Do you imagine that, in former stages of this planet, wiser 
 " creatures than ourselves did not exist ? All our boasted 
 " inventions are but the shadows of what has been, — the 
 " dim images of the past— the dream of other states of 
 " existence. Might not the fable of Prometheus, and 
 " his stealing the fire, and of Briareus and his earth- 
 " born brothers, be but traditions of steam and its ma- 
 " chinery ? Who knows whether, when a comet shall 
 " approach this globe to destroy it, as it often has been and 
 " will be destroyed, men will not tear rocks from their 
 " foundations by means of steam, and hurl mountains, 
 " as the giants are said to have done, against the flaming 
 " mass ? — and then we shall have traditions of Titans 
 " again, and of wars with Heaven." 
 
 " A mighty ingenious theory," said I laughing,— and was 
 near adding, in the words of ' Julian and Maddalo' : 
 
 2 A
 
 18g CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " The sense that he was greater than his kind 
 Had made, methinks, his eagle spirit blind 
 With gazing on its own exceeding hglit." 
 
 Talking of romances, he said : 
 
 " ' The Monk' is perhaps one of the best in any lan- 
 " guage, not excepting the German. It only wanted 
 " one thing, as I told Lewis, to have rendered it perfect. 
 " He should have made the daemon really in love with 
 " Ambrosio : this would have given it a human interest. 
 " ' The Monk' was written Avhen Lewis was only twenty, 
 " and he seems to have exhausted all his genius on it. 
 " Perhaps at that age he was in earnest in his belief of 
 " magic wonders. That is the secret of Walter Scott's 
 " inspiration : he retains and encourages all the super- 
 " stitions of his youth. Lewis caught his passion for the 
 " marvellous, and it amounted to a mania with him, in 
 " Germany ; but the groundwork of ' The Monk,' is neither 
 " original nor German : it is derived from the tale of 
 " ' Santon Barsisa.' The episode of ' The Bleeding Nun,' 
 " which was turned into a melo-drama, is from the 
 " German.
 
 LORD BYRON. Jg^^ 
 
 " There were two stories which he ahnost beheved by 
 " teUing. One happened to himself whilst he was residing 
 " at Manheim. Every night, at the same hour, he heard 
 " or thought he heard in his room, when he was lying 
 " in bed, a crackling noise like that produced by parch- 
 " ment, or thick paper. This circumstance caused en- 
 " quiry, when it was told him that the sounds were attri- 
 " butable to the following cause :^The house in which he 
 " lived had belonged to a widow, who had an only son. 
 " In order to prevent his marrying a jioor but amiable 
 " girl, to whom he was attached, he was sent to sea. 
 " Years passed, and the mother heard no tidings of him, 
 " nor the ship in which he had sailed. It v/as supposed 
 " that the vessel had been wrecked, and that all on board 
 " had perished. The reproaches of the girl, the upbraid- 
 " ings of her own conscience, and the loss of her child, 
 " crazed the old lady's mind, and her only pursuit became 
 " to turn over the Gazettes for news. Hope at length 
 " left her : she did not live long, — and continued . her old 
 " occupation after death. 
 
 " The other story that I alluded to before, was the 
 " original of his ' Alonzo and Imogene,' which has had such 
 " a host of imitators. Two Florentine lovers, who had been 
 
 2 A 2
 
 188 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " attached to each other ahiiost from childhood, made a 
 " vow of eternal fidelity. Mina was the name of the lady — 
 " her husband's I forget, but it is not material. They 
 " parted. He had been for some time absent with his 
 " regiment, when, as his disconsolate lady was sitting 
 " alone in her chamber, she distinctly heard the well- 
 " known sound of his footsteps, and starting up beheld, 
 " not her husband, but his spectre, with a deep ghastly 
 " wound across his forehead, entering. She swooned with 
 " horror : when she recovered, the ghost told her that in 
 " future his visits should be announced by a passing-bell, 
 " and these words, distinctly whispered, ' Mina, I am here !' 
 " Their interviews now became frequent, till the woman 
 " fancied herself as much in love with the ghost as she had 
 " been with the man. But it was soon to prove otherwise, 
 " One fatal night she went to a ball: — what business had 
 " she there ? She danced too ; and, what was worse, her 
 " partner was a young Florentine, so much the counter- 
 '* part of her lover, that she became estranged from his 
 " ghost. Whilst the young gallant conducted her in the 
 " waltz, and her ear drank in the music of his voice and 
 " words, a passing-bell tolled ! She had been accustomed 
 " to the sound till it hardly excited her attention, and now 
 " lost in the attractions of her fascinating partner, she heard
 
 LORD BYRON. 189 
 
 " but regarded it not. A second peal ! — she listened not 
 " to its warnings. A third time the bell, with its deep 
 " and iron tongue, startled the assembled company, 
 " and silenced the music ! Mina then turned her eyes 
 " from her partner, and saw reflected in the mirror, a 
 " form, a shadow, a spectre : it was her husband ! He 
 " was standing between her and the young Florentine, 
 " and whispered in a solemn and melancholy tone the 
 " accustomed accents, ' Mina, I am here ! ' — She instantly 
 " fell dead. 
 
 " Lewis was not a very successful writer. His ' Monk ' 
 " was abused furiously by Matthias, in his ' Pursuits of 
 " Literature,' and he was forced to suppress it. 'Abellino' 
 " he merely translated. ' Pizarro ' was a sore subject with 
 " him, and no wonder that he winced at the name. Sheri- 
 " dan, who was not very scrupulous about applying to him- 
 " self literan/ property at least, manufactured his play 
 " without so much as an acknowledgment, pecuniary or 
 " otherwise, from Lewis's ideas ; and bad as ' Pizarro ' is, 
 " I know (from having been on the Drury-Lane Committee, 
 ** and knowing, consequently, the comparative profits of 
 " plays,) that it brought in more money than any other play 
 " has ever done, or perhaps ever will do.
 
 190 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " But to return to Lewis. He was even worse treated 
 " ajjout ' The Castle Spectre,' which had also an immense 
 " run, a prodigious success. Sheridan never gave him any 
 " of its profits either. One day Lewis being in company 
 " with him, said, — ' Sheridan, I will make you a large bet.' 
 " Sheridan, who was always ready to make a wager, (how- 
 " ever he might find it inconvenient to pay it if lost,) asked 
 " eagerly what bet ? ' All the profits of my Castle Spectre,' 
 " replied Lewis. ' I will tell you what,' said Sheridan, (who 
 " never found his match at repartee,) ' I will make you a 
 " very small one, — what it is worth.' " 
 
 I asked him if he had known Sheridan ? 
 
 " Yes," said he. " Sheridan was an extraordinary com- 
 " pound of contradictions, and Moore will be much 
 " puzzled in reconciling them for the Life he is writing. 
 " The upper part of Sheridan's face was that of a God — a 
 " forehead most expansive, an eye of peculiar brilliancy 
 " and fire ; but below he shewed the satyr. 
 
 " Lewis was a pleasant companion, and would always 
 " have remained a boy in spirits and manners— (unlike me !) 
 " He was fond of the society of younger men than him-
 
 LORD BYRON. 191 
 
 " self. I myself never knew a man, except Shelley, who 
 " was companionable till thirty. I remember Mrs. Pope 
 " once asking who was Lewis's male-love this season ! 
 " He possessed a very lively imagination, and a great 
 " turn for narrative, and had a world of ghost-stories, 
 " which he had better have confined himself to tell- 
 " ing. His poetry is now almost forgotten : it will be 
 " the same with that of all but two or three poets of the 
 " day. 
 
 " Lewis had been, or thought he had been, unkind to a 
 " brother whom he lost young ; and when any thing 
 " disagreeable was about to happen to him, the vision 
 " of his brother appeared : he came as a sort of mo- 
 " nitor. 
 
 '* Lewis was with me for a considerable period at 
 " Geneva ; and we went to Coppet several times together ; 
 " but Lewis was there oftener than I. 
 
 " Madame de Stael and he used to have violent argu- 
 " ments about the Slave Trade, — which he advocated 
 " strongly, for most of his property was in negroes and 
 " plantations. Not being satisfied with three thousand
 
 192 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " a-year, h6' wanted to make it five ; and would go to 
 " the West Indies ; but he died on the passage of sea- 
 " sickness, and obstinacy in taking an emetic." 
 
 I said to him, " You are accused of owing a great deal 
 to Wordsworth. Certainly there are some stanzas in 
 the Third Canto of ' Childe Harold' that smell strongly of 
 the Lakes : for instance — 
 
 ' I live not in myself, but I become 
 Portion of that around me ; — and to me 
 High mountains are a feeling !' " 
 
 " Very possibly," replied he. " Shelley, when I was in 
 " Switzerland, used to dose me with Wordsworth physic 
 " even to nausea : and I do remember then reading some 
 " things of his with pleasure. He had once a feeling of 
 " Nature, which he carried almost to a deification of it :— 
 " that 's why Shelley liked his poetry. 
 
 " It is satisfactory to reflect, that where a man becomes a 
 " hireling and loses his mental independence, he loses also
 
 LORD BYRON. 193 
 
 " the faculty of writing well. The lyrical ballads, jaco- 
 " binical and puling with affectation of simplicity as they 
 " were, had undoubtedly a certain merit*: and Wordsworth, 
 " though occasionally a writer for the nursery-masters and 
 " misses, 
 
 ' Who took their little porringer, 
 And ate their porridge there,' 
 
 « now and then expressed ideas worth imitating ; but, like 
 " brother Southey, he had his price ; and since he is turned 
 " tax-gatherer, is only fit to rhyme about lasses and wag- 
 " o-oners. Shelley repeated to me the other day a stanza 
 " from ' Peter Bell' that I thought inimitably good. It is 
 " the rumination of Peter's ass, who gets hito a brook, and 
 " sees reflected there a family-circle, or tea-party. But 
 " you shall have it in his own words : 
 
 ' Is it a party in a parloui-, 
 Craram'd just as you on earth are cramm'd ? 
 
 " Or Wordsworth unexcised, unhired, who then 
 " Season'd his pedlar poems with democracy." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto III. Stanza 93. 
 2 B
 
 194 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Some sipping pvinch, some sipping tea, 
 And every one, as you may see, 
 All silent and all d d !' 
 
 " I'here was a time when he would have written better ; 
 " but perhaps Peter thinks feehngly. 
 
 " The repubhcan trio, when they began to pubhsh in 
 " common, were to have had a community of all things, 
 " like the ancient Britons ; to have lived in a state of nature, 
 " like savages, and peopled some ' island of the blest ' with 
 
 " children in common, like . A very pretty Arcadian 
 
 " notion ! It amuses me much to compare the Botany Bay 
 " Eclogue, the Panegyric of Martin the Regicide, and 
 " ' Wat Tyler,' with the Laureate Odes, and Peter's 
 " Eulogium on the Field of Waterloo. There is some- 
 " thing more than rhyme in that noted stanza containing 
 
 ' Yea, slaughter 
 Is God's daughter!'* — 
 
 " I offended the pai- nobik mortally, —past all hope of 
 " forgiveness— many years ago. I met, at the Cumberland 
 
 Wordsworth's Thanksgiving Ode.
 
 LORD BYRON. 195 
 
 " Lakes, Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd, who had just been 
 " writing ' The Poetic Mirror,' a work that contains imi- 
 " tations of all the living poets' styles, after the manner 
 " of ' Rejected Addresses.' The burlesque is well done, 
 " particularly that of me, but not equal to Horace Smith's. 
 " I was pleased with Hogg ; and he wrote me a very witty 
 " letter, to which I sent him, I suspect, a very dull reply. 
 " Certain it is that I did not spare the Lakists in it; and he 
 " told me he could not resist the temptation, and had shewn 
 « it to the fraternity. It was too tempting ; and as I could 
 " never keep a secret of my own, as you know, much less 
 " that of other people, I could not blame him. I remember 
 " saying, among other things, that the Lake poets were 
 " such fools as not to fish in their OAvn waters ; but this was 
 " the least offensive part of the epistle." 
 
 " Bowles is one of the same little order of spirits, 
 « who has been fussily fishing on for fame, and is, equally 
 " waspish and jealous. What could Coleridge mean by 
 " praising his poetry as he does ? 
 
 " It was a mistake of mine, about his making the woods 
 « of Madeira tremble, &c. ; but it seems that I might 
 
 2 B 2
 
 190 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " have told him that there were no rvoods to make trem- 
 " ble with kisses, which would have been quite as great 
 " a blunder. 
 
 " 1 met Bowles once at Rogers's, and thought him a 
 " pleasant, gentlemanly man — a good fellow, for a parson. 
 " When men meet together after dinner, the conversation 
 " takes a certain turn. I remember he entertained us 
 " with some good stories. The reverend gentleman pre- 
 " tended, however, to be much shocked at Pope's letters 
 " to Martha Blount. 
 
 " I set him and his invariable principles at rest. He 
 " did attempt an answer, which was no reply ; at least, 
 " nobody read it. I believe he applied to me some lines 
 " in Shakspeare.* A man is very unlucky who has 
 " a name that can be punned upon ; and his own did 
 " not escajjo. 
 
 '' I have been reading ' Johnson's Lives,' a book I am 
 " very fond of. I look upon him as the profoundest of 
 
 * " I do remember thee, my Lord Biron," &c.
 
 LORD BYRON. 197 
 
 " critics, and had occasion to study him when I was 
 " writing to Bowles. 
 
 " Of all the disgraces that attach to England in the 
 eye of foreigners, who admire Pope more than any of 
 our poets, (though it is the fashion to under-rate him 
 among ourselves,) the greatest perhaps is, that there 
 should be no place assigned to him in Poets' Corner. I 
 have often thought of erecting a monument to him at 
 my own expense, in Westminster Abbey ; and hope to 
 do so yet. But he was a Catholic, and, what was worse, 
 puzzled Tillotson and the Divines. That accounts for 
 his not having any national monument. Milton, too, 
 had very nearly been without a stone ; and the mention 
 of his name on the tomb of another was at one time con- 
 sidered a profanation to a church. The French, I am told, 
 lock up Voltaire's tomb. Will there never be an end to 
 this bigotry ? Will men never learn that every great poet 
 is necessarily a religious man? — so at least Coleridge says." 
 
 " Yes, " replied Shelley ; " and he might maintain the 
 converse, — that every truly religious man is a poet; mean- 
 ing by poetry the power of communicating intense and 
 impassioned impressions respecting man and Nature."
 
 198 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 When I entered the room, Lord Byron was devouring, 
 as he called it, a new novel of Sir Walter Scott's. 
 
 " How difficult it is, " said he, " to say any thing new ! 
 " Who was that voluptuary of antiquity, who offered a 
 " reward for a new pleasure ? Perhaps all nature and art 
 " could not supply a new idea. 
 
 " This page, for instance, is a brilliant one ; it is full of 
 " wit. But let us see how much of it is original. This 
 " passage, for instance, comes from Shakspeare ; this bon 
 " mot from one of Sheridan's Comedies ; this observation 
 " from another writer (naming the author); and yet the 
 " ideas are new-moulded, — and perhaps Scott was not 
 " aware of their being plagiarisms. It is a bad thing to 
 " have too good a memory." 
 
 " I should not like to have you for a critic," I observed. 
 
 " ' Set a thief to catch a thief,' " was the reply. 
 
 " I never travel without Scott's Novels," said he : " they 
 " are a library in themselves — a perfect literary treasure. 1 
 " could read them once a-yeai' with new pleasure."
 
 LORD BYRON. 199 
 
 I asked him if he was certain about the Novels being Sir 
 Walter Scott's ? 
 
 " Scott as much as owned himself the author of ' Waver- 
 " ley' to me in Murray's shop," replied he. " I was talking 
 " to him about that novel, and lamented that its author had 
 " not carried back the story nearer to the time of the Re- 
 " volution. Scott, entirely off his guard, said, ' Ay, I 
 
 " might have done so, but ' There he stopped. It was in 
 
 " vain to attempt to correct himself: he looked confused, 
 " and relieved his embarrassment by a precipitate retreat. 
 
 " On another occasion I was to dine at Murray's ; and 
 " being in his parlour in the morning, he told me I should 
 " meet the author of ' Waverley' at dinner. He had 
 " received several excuses, and the party was a small one ; 
 " and, knowing all the people present, I was satisfied that 
 " the writer of that novel must have been, and could have 
 " been, no other than Walter Scott. 
 
 " He spoiled the fame of his poetry by his superior 
 « prose. He has such extent and versatiUty of powers in 
 " writing, that, should his Novels ever tire the public, 
 " which is not likely, he will apply himself to something 
 " else, and succeed as well.
 
 200 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " His mottoes from old plays prove that he, at all events, 
 " possesses the dramatic faculty, which is denied me. And 
 " yet I am told that his ' Halidon Hill' did not justify 
 " expectation. 1 have never met with it, but have seen 
 " extracts from it." 
 
 " Do you think," asked I, " that Sir Walter Scott's 
 Novels owe any part of their reputation to the conceal- 
 ment of the author's name ?" 
 
 " No," said he ; " such works do not gain or lose by it. 
 " I am at a loss to know his reason for keeping up the 
 " incognito, — but that the reigning family could not 
 " have been very well pleased with ' Waverley.' There is 
 " a degree of charlatanism in some authors keeping up 
 " the Unknown. Junius owed much of his fame to that 
 " trick ; and now that it is known to be the work of Sir 
 " Philip Francis, who reads it ? A political writer, and one 
 " who descends to personalities such as disgrace Junius, 
 " should be immaculate as a public, as well as a private 
 " character ; and Sir Philip Francis was neither. He 
 " had his price, and was gagged by being sent to In- 
 " dia. He there seduced another man's wife. It would 
 " have been a new case for a Judge to sit in judgment
 
 LORD BYRON. 201 
 
 " on himself, in a Crim.-con. It seems that his conjugal 
 " felicity was not great, for, when his wife died, he came 
 " into the room where they were sitting up with the 
 " corpse, and said ' Solder her up, solder her up !' He saw 
 " his daughter crying, and scolded her, saying, ' An old 
 " hag— she ought to have died thirty years ago ! He 
 " married, shortly after, a young woman. He hated 
 " Hastings to a violent degree ; all he hoped and prayed 
 " for was to outhve him.— But many of the newspapers of 
 " the day are written as well as Junius. Matthias's book, 
 " ' The Pursuits of Literature,' now almost a dead-letter, 
 " had once a great fame. 
 
 " When Walter Scott began to write poetry, which 
 " was not at a very early age. Monk Lewis corrected 
 " his verse : he understood little then of the mechanical 
 " part of the art. The Fire King in ' The Minstrelsy of 
 " the Scottish Border,' was almost all Lewis's. One of 
 " the ballads in that work, and, except some of Leyden's, 
 " perhaps one of the best, was made from a story picked 
 " up in a stage-coach ;— I mean that of ' Will Jones.' 
 
 ' They boil'd Will Jones within the pot, 
 And not much fat had Will.' 
 2 c
 
 202 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I hope Walter Scott did not write the review on 
 " ' Christabel ;' for he certainly, in common with many of 
 " us, is indebted to Coleridge. But for him, perhaps 
 " ' The Lay of the Last Minstrel ' would never have been 
 " thought of The line 
 
 ' Jesu Maria shield thee well '.' 
 " is word for word from ' Christabel.' 
 
 " Of all the writers of the day, Walter Scott is the 
 " least jealous : he is too confident of his own fame to 
 " dread the rivalry of others. He does not think of good 
 " writing, as the Tuscans do of fever, — that there is only a 
 " certain quantity of it in the world."* 
 
 " What did you mean," said a person who was with 
 Lord Byron, " by calling Rogers a Nestor and an Argo- 
 
 * Travellers in Italy should be cautious of taking bouquets of 
 flowers from the Contadini children, as they are in the habit of placing 
 them on the breasts of persons having malignant fevers, and think 
 that, by communicating the disorder to another, it will be diminished 
 in the person affected.
 
 LORD BYRON. 203 
 
 tmut ? I suppose you meant to say that his poetry was old 
 and worn out." 
 
 " You are very hard upon the dead* poet, — upon the 
 " late lamented Mr. Samuel Rogers, (as he has been called,) 
 " — and upon me too, to suspect me of speaking ironically 
 " upon so serious a subject." 
 
 " It was a very doubtful expression, however, that ' Nes- 
 tor of little poets,' " rejoined the other. " Compliments 
 ought never to have a double sense— a cross meaning. 
 And you seem to be fond of this mode of writing, for you 
 call Lady Morgan's ' Italy ' a fearless and excellent work. 
 What two odd words to be coupled together ! " 
 
 " Take it as you like," repUed Lord Byron, " I say the 
 " ' Pleasures of Memory' will live." 
 
 " The Pleasures of Mummery ! Pray now, (speak can- 
 
 * He used to tell a story of Rogers and visiting the Cata- 
 combs at Paris together. As Rogers, who was last, was making his 
 
 exit, said to him, " Why, you are not coming out, are you ? 
 
 Surely you are not tii-ed of your countrymen ! You don't mean to 
 
 forsake them, do you ?" 
 
 2 c 2
 
 204 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 didlyO have you read since you were a schoolboy, or 
 can you, Avith all your memory, repeat five lines of that 
 boasted ' Essay on Memory' that you have been beprais- 
 ino- so furiously all your life ? Instruct me where to 
 find the golden fleece. Be my Jason for once." 
 
 " I remember being delighted with ' The Pleasures of 
 " Memory when I was at Harrow; and that is saying a 
 " great deal, for I seldom read a book when I was there, 
 " and continue to like what I did then. 
 
 " * Jacquelina,' too, is a much finer poem than ' Lara.' 
 " Your allowing precedence to the latter amused me. But 
 " they soon got a divorce." 
 
 " There you go again : your taste is too fastidious. 
 Rogers was very much offended at its being said that 
 his 'Pleasures,' &c. were to be found shining in green and 
 gold morocco-bindings in most parlour-windows, and on 
 the book-shelves of all young ladies." 
 
 " But, don't we all write to please them ? I am sure 
 " I was more pleased with the fame my 'Corsair' had, 
 " than with that of any other of my books. Why ? for the
 
 LORD BYRON. 205 
 
 " very reason because it did shine, and in boudoirs. Who 
 " does not write to please the women ? And Rogers has 
 " succeeded : what more can he want or wish ? 
 
 " There was a Mrs. once fell in love with 
 
 " Shelley for his verses ; and a Miss Stafford was so taken 
 " with the ' Sofa' (a very different one from Cowper's,) that 
 " she went to France and married Crebillon. 
 
 " These are some of the sweets of authorship. But my 
 " day is over. Vixi, &c. I used formerly (that olim is a 
 " bad and a sad word !) to get letters by almost every post, 
 " the delicate beauty of whose penmanship suggested the 
 " fair, taper fingers that indited them. But my ' Corsair' 
 " days are over. Heigh ho !' 
 
 " But what has all this to do with Rogers, or 'The 
 Pleasures of Memory ?' Is there one line of that poem 
 that has not been altered and re-altered, till it would 
 be difficult to detect in the patchwork any thing hke the 
 texture of the original stuff ?" 
 
 " Well, if there is not a line or a word that has not been 
 - canvassed, and made the subject of separate epistolary
 
 206 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " discussion, what does that prove but the general merit of 
 " the whole piece ? And the correspondence will be valu- 
 " able by and bye, and save the commentators a vast deal of 
 " labour, and waste of ingenuity. People do wisest who 
 " take care of their fame when they have got it. That 's 
 " the rock I have split on. It has been said that he has 
 " been puffed into notice by his dinners and Lady Holland. 
 " Though he gives very good ones, and female Maece- 
 " nases are no bad things now-a-days, it is by no means 
 " true. Rogers has been a spoilt child ; no won- 
 " der that he is a little vain and jealous. And yet 
 " he deals praise very liberally sometimes ; for he wrote 
 " to a little friend of mine, on the occasion of his late 
 " publication, that ' he was born with a rose-bud in his 
 " mouth, and a nightingale singing in his ear,' — two very 
 " prettily turned Orientalisms. Before my wife and the 
 " world quarrelled with me, and brought me into disre- 
 " pute with the public, Rogers had composed some very 
 " pretty commendatory verses on me ; but they were kept 
 " corked up for many long years, under hope that I might 
 " reform and get into favour with the world again, and 
 " that the said lines (for he is rather costive, and does not 
 " like to throw away his effusions) might find a place in 
 " 'Human Life.' But after a great deal of oscillation, and
 
 LORD BYRON. 207 
 
 " many a sigh at their hard destiny— their still-born fate,— 
 " they were hermetically sealed, and adieu to my immor- 
 " tality ! 
 
 " Rogers has an unfortunately sensitive temper. We 
 " nearly quarrelled at Florence. I asked the officer of the 
 " Dogana (who had trouble enough with all my live and 
 " dead stock), in consequence of his civilities, to dine with 
 " me at Schneider's; but Rogers happened to be in one 
 " of his ill humours, and abused the Italians. 
 
 " He is coming to visit me on his return from Rome, 
 " and will be annoyed when he finds I have any English 
 " comforts about me. He told a person the other day that 
 " one of my new tragedies was intended for the stage, when 
 " he knew neither of them was. I suppose he wanted to 
 " get another of them damned. O Samuel, Samuel ! But, " 
 added he, after a pause, " these things are, as Lord Kenyon 
 " said of Erskine, ' mere spots in the sun.' He has good 
 " qualities to counterbalance these littlenesses in his cha- 
 " racter. 
 
 " Rogers is the only man I know who can write 
 " epigrams, and sharp bone-cutters too, in two lines ; for
 
 208 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " instance, that on an M. P. who had reviewed his book, 
 " and said he wrote vei'y well for a banker : — 
 
 ' They say he has no heart, and I deny it: 
 He has a heart, — and gets his speeches by it.' " 
 
 " I have been told," said he one Sunday evening during 
 our ride, " that you have got a parson here of the name of 
 " N«tt. — N»tt ? I think I should know that name : was he 
 " not one of the tutors of a late Princess ? If I am not mis- 
 " taken, ' thereby hangs a tale,' that perhaps would have 
 " been forgotten, but for his over-officious zeal,— or a worse 
 " motive. The would-be Bishop having himself cracked 
 " windows, should not throw stones. I respect the pulpit 
 " as much as any man, but would not have it made a forum 
 " for politics or personality. The Puritans gave us quite 
 " enough of them. — But to come to the point. A person 
 " who was at his house to-day, where he has a chapel, tells 
 " me that this dignitary of the Church has in a very un- 
 " dignified way been preaching against my ' Cain.' He 
 " contends, it seems, that the snake which tempted Eve 
 " was not a snake, but the Devil in disguise ; and that 
 " Bishop Warburton's ' Legation of Moses' is no authority.
 
 LORD BYRON. 209 
 
 " It may be so, and a poor unlearned man like me may be 
 " mistaken: but as there are not three of his congregation 
 " who have seen ' Cain,' and not one but will be satisfied 
 " that the learned Doctor's object is to preach against and 
 " vilify me, under the pretext of clearing up these disputed 
 " points, surely his arguments are much misplaced. It is 
 " strange that people will not let me alone. I am sure I 
 " lead a very quiet, moral life here." 
 
 
 * 
 
 * * 
 
 A fortnight after he said : 
 
 " I hear that your Doctor, in company with some Rus- 
 " sians, the other day, called Shelley a scelerato, and has 
 " been preaching two sermons, two following Sundays, 
 " against Atheism. It is pretty clear for whom he means 
 " them; and Mrs. SheUey being there, it was still more in- 
 " decent. The Doctor is playing with penknives when he 
 " handles poets." 
 
 The next morning he gave us a song upon the Doctor, 
 to the tune of " The Vicar and Moses." 
 
 2d
 
 210 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I have often wished," said I to Lord Byron one day, 
 " to know how you passed your time after your return 
 from Greece in 1812." 
 
 " There is Httle to be said about it," replied he. " Per- 
 " haps it would have been better had I never returned ! 
 " I had become so much attached to the Morea, its cli- 
 " mate, and the life I led there, that nothing but my mo- 
 " ther's death* and my affairs would have brought me 
 " home. However, after an absence of three years, behold ! 
 " I was again in London. My Second Canto of ' Childe 
 " Harold' was then just published; and the impersonation 
 " of myself, which, in spite of all I could say, the world 
 " would discover in that poem, made every one curious to 
 " know me, and to discover the identity. I received every 
 " where a marked attention, was courted in all societies, 
 " made much of by Lady Jersey, had the entre at Devon- 
 " shire-house, was in favour with Brummel, (and that was 
 " alone enough to make a man of fashion at that time ;) in 
 " fact, I was a lion — a ball-room bard — ^a hot-pressed dar- 
 " ling! 'The Corsair' put my reputation au coinhle, and 
 
 * In August 1811.
 
 LORD BYRON. 211 
 
 " had a wonderful success, as you may suppose, by one 
 " edition being sold in a day. 
 
 " Polidori, who was rather vain, once asked me what 
 " there was he could not do as well as I ? I think I named 
 " four things : — that I could swim four miles— write a book, 
 " of which four thousand copies should be sold in a day*— 
 " drink four bottles of wine— and I forget what the other 
 " was, but it is not worth mentioning. However, as I told 
 " you before, my ' Corsair' was sufficient to captivate all 
 " the ladies. 
 
 " About this period I became what the French call 
 •' un homme d bonnes fortunes, and was engaged in a 
 " liaison, — and, I might add, a serious one. 
 
 " The lady had scarcely any personal attractions to 
 " recommend her. Her figure, though genteel, was too 
 " thin to be good, and wanted that roundness which ele- 
 " gance and grace would vainly supply. She was, however, 
 
 * The fact is that nearly 10,000 of several of Lord Byron's pro- 
 ductions have been sold on the first day of publication. 
 
 2 u 2
 
 212 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " young, and of the first connexions. jIu restc, she pos- 
 " sessed an infinite vivacity, and an imagination heated by 
 " novel-reading, which made her fancy herself a heroine of 
 " romance, and led her into all sorts of eccentricities. She 
 "was married, but it was a match o^ convenance, and no 
 " couple could be more fashionably indiiferent to, or inde- 
 " pendent of one another, than she and her husband. It 
 " was at this time that we happened to be thrown much 
 " together. She had never been in love — at least where 
 " the affections are concerned, — and was perhaps made 
 " without a heart, as many of the sex are ; but her head 
 " more than supplied the deficiency. 
 
 " I was soon congratulated by my friends on the con- 
 " quest I had made, and did my vitmost to shew that I 
 " was not insensible to the partiality I could not help per- 
 " ceiving. I made every effort to be in love, expressed 
 " as much ardour as I could muster, and kept feeding 
 " the flame with a constant supply of billets-doux and 
 " amatory verses. In short, I was in decent time duly 
 " and regularly installed into what the Italians call 
 " service, and soon became, in every sense of the word, 
 " a patito.
 
 J (l^ 
 
 LORD UYRON. 213 
 
 " It required no Oedipus to see where all this would 
 " end. I am easily governed by women, and she gained 
 " an ascendancy over me that I could not easily shake off. 
 " I submitted to this thraldom long, for I hate scenes, and 
 " am of an indolent disposition ; but I was forced to snap 
 " the knot rather rudely at last. Like all lovers, we had 
 " several quarrels before we came to a final rupture. One 
 " was made up in a very odd way, and without any verbal 
 " explanation. She will remember it. Even during our in- 
 " timacy I was not at all constant to this fair one, and she 
 " suspected as much. In order to detect my intrigues she 
 " watched me, and earthed a lady into my lodgings, — and 
 " came herself, terrier-like, in the disguise of a carman. 
 " My valet, who did not see through the masquerade, let 
 " her in; when, to the despair of Fletcher, she put off the 
 " man, and put on the woman. Imagine the scene : it was 
 " worthy of Faublas ! 
 
 " Her after-conduct was unaccountable madness— a com- 
 " bination of spite and jealousy. It was perfectly agreed 
 " and understood that we were to meet as strangers. We 
 " were at a ball. She came up and asked me if she might 
 " waltz. I thought it perfectly indifferent whether she
 
 214 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " waltzed or not, or with whom, and told her so, in different 
 " terms, but with much coolness. After she had finished, a 
 
 " scene occurred, which was in the mouth of every one. 
 
 ******* 
 
 «***»** 
 
 # ^ * ^ ^ w # 
 
 ******* 
 
 " Soon after this she promised young * * 
 
 " if he would call me out. * * * * * 
 
 " * * * * Yet can any one believe that she 
 
 " should be so infatuated, after all this, as to call at my 
 " apartments ? (certainly with no view of shooting herself) 
 " I was from home; but finding ' Vathek' on the table, she 
 " wrote in the first page, ' Remember me ! ' 
 
 " Yes ! I had cause to remember her ; and, in the irri- 
 " tability of the moment, wrote under the two words these 
 " two stanzas : — 
 
 ' Remember thee, remember thee ! 
 
 Till Lethe quench life's burning stream, 
 Remorse and shame shall cUng to thee. 
 And haunt thee like a feverish dream !
 
 1,0 11D BYRON. 215 
 
 Remember thee ! Ay, doubt it not ; 
 
 Thy husband too shall think of thee ; 
 By neither shalt thou be forgot, 
 
 Thou ***** to him, thou ***** to me!'" 
 
 " I am accused of ingratitude to a certain personage. It 
 " is pretended that, after his civihties, I should not have 
 " spoken of him disrespectfully. Those epigrams were 
 " written long before my introduction to him ; which was, 
 " after all, entirely accidental, and unsought-for on my part. 
 
 " I met him one evening at Colonel J^ 's. As the 
 
 " party was a small one, he could not help observing me ; 
 " and as I made a considerable noise at that time, and was 
 
 " one of the lions of the day, he sent General to 
 
 " desire I would be presented to him. I would willingly 
 " have declined the honour, but could not with decency. 
 " His request was in the nature of a command. He was 
 " very polite, for he is the politest man in Europe, and 
 " paid me some compliments that meant nothing. This 
 " was all the civility he ever shewed me, and it does not 
 " burthen my conscience much. 
 
 " I will shew you my Irish ' Avatara.' Moore tells me 
 
 2 D 4
 
 216 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " that it has saved him from writing on the same subject : 
 
 " he would have done it much better. I told M to get 
 
 " it published in Paris : he has sent me a few printed 
 " copies ; here is one for you. I have said that the Irish 
 " Emancipation, when granted, will not conciliate the 
 " Catholics, but will be considered as a measure of ex- 
 " pediency, and the resort of fear. But you will have the 
 " sentiment in the words of the original." 
 
 THE IRISH AVATARA. 
 
 True, the great of her Ijright and brief era are gone, — 
 The rainbow-like epoch when Freedom could pause, 
 
 For the few little years out of centuries won, — 
 
 That betray'd not, and crush'd not, and wept not her cause. 
 
 True, the chains of the Catholic clank o'er his rags. 
 The Castle still stands, and the Senate 's no more ; 
 
 And the famine that dwells on her freedomless crags, 
 Is extending its steps to her desolate shore : — 
 
 To her desolate shore, where the emigrant stands 
 For a moment to pause ere he flies from his hearth : 
 
 Tears fall on his chain, though it drops from his hands. 
 For the dungeon he quits is the place of his birth.
 
 LORD BYRON. 217 
 
 Ay ! roar in his train ; let thine orators lash 
 
 Their fanciful spirits to pamper his pride : 
 Not thus did thy Grattan indignantly flash 
 
 His soul on the freedom implored and denied ! 
 
 Ever-glorious Grattan ! the best of the good ! 
 
 So simple in heart — so sublime in the rest, 
 With all that Demosthenes wanted endued, 
 
 And his victor, or rival, in all he possess'd; 
 
 With the skill of an Orpheus to soften the brute — 
 
 With the fire of Prometheus to kindle mankind ; 
 Even Tyranny, listening, sat melted or mute. 
 
 And Corruption sank scorch'd from the glance of his mind. 
 
 Ay ! back to our theme — back to despots and slaves. 
 Feasts furnished by Famine — rejoicings by Pain : 
 
 True Freedom but welcomes, while Slavery stiU raves, 
 ^^Tien a week's Saturnalia have loosen'd her chain. 
 
 Let the poor squalid splendour thy wreck can afford, 
 (As the bankrupt's profusion his ruin woiUd hide,) 
 
 Gild over the palace, — lo ! Erin thy lord, — 
 
 Kiss his foot, with thy blessing, for blessings denied ! 
 
 2 E
 
 218 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 And if fi'eedom past hope be extorted at last, — • 
 If the idol of brass find his feet are of clay, — 
 
 Must what terror or policy wrung forth be class'd 
 
 With what monarchs ne'er give, but as wolves yield their prey? 
 
 Bilt let not his name be thine idol alone ! 
 
 On his right hand behold a Sejanus appears — 
 Thine own Castlereagh ! Let him still be thine own ! — 
 
 A wretch never named but with curses and jeers, 
 
 TiU now, when this Isle, that should blush for his biith, 
 Deep, deep as the gore which he shed on her soil, 
 
 Seems proud of the reptile that crawl'd from her earth. 
 And for murder repays him with shouts and a smile ! — 
 
 Without one single ray of her genius, — without 
 Tlie fancy, the manhood, the five of her race, — 
 
 The miscreant who well might plunge Erin in doubt. 
 If she ever gave birth to a being so base ! 
 
 If she did, may her long-boasted proverb be hush'd, 
 "Wliich proclaims that from Erin no reptile can spring ! 
 
 Sec the cold-blooded serpent, with venom fuU flush'd. 
 Still warming its folds in the heart of a king !
 
 LORD BYRON. 219 
 
 Shout, drink, feast, and flatter ! Oh, Erin ! how low 
 Wert thou sunk by misfortune and tyranny, till 
 
 Thy welcome of tyrants hath plunged thee below 
 
 The depth of thy deep in a deeper gulph still ! » 
 
 My voice, though but humble, was raised in thy right ; 
 
 My vote*, as a freeman's, still voted thee free ; 
 My arm, though but feeble, would arm in thy fight ; 
 
 And this heart, though outworn, had a throb still for thee 
 
 Yes ! I loved thee and thine, though thou wert not my land ; 
 
 I have known noble hearts and brave souls in thy sons, 
 And I wept with deUght on the patriot band 
 
 Who are gone, — but I weep them no longer as once ! 
 
 For happy are they now reposing afar — 
 
 Thy Curran, thy Grattan, thy Sheridan, — all, 
 
 Who for years were the chiefs in this eloquent war. 
 And redeem'd, if they have not retarded thy fall ! — 
 
 Yes ! happy are they in their cold English gi-aves ! 
 
 Their shades cannot start at thy shouts of to-day ; 
 Nor the steps of enslavers and slave-kissing slaves 
 
 Be damp'd in the turf o'er theu- fetterless clay ! 
 
 * He spoke on the Catholic Question. 
 2 E 2
 
 220 C O iN V E R S A T I O N S OF 
 
 Till now I had envied thy sons and thy shore ! 
 
 Though their virtues are blunted, their liberties fled. 
 There is something so warm and sublime in the core 
 
 Of an Irishman's heart, that I envy— their dead ! 
 
 Or if aught in my bosom can quench for an hour 
 My contempt of a nation so servile, though sore, 
 
 Which, though trod like the worm, will not turn upon power, 
 'Tis the glory of Grattan — the genius of Moore ! 
 
 " What a noble fellow," said Lord Byron, after I had 
 finished reading, " was Lord Edward Fitzgerald !— and what 
 " a romantic and singular history was his ! If it were not 
 " too near our times, it would make the finest subject in 
 " the world for an historical novel." 
 
 " What was there so singular in his life and adventures ?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " Lord Edward Fitzgerald," said he, " was a soldier from 
 " a boy. He served in America, and was left for dead in 
 " one of the pitched battles, (I forget which,) and returned 
 " in the list of killed. Having been found in the field after
 
 LORD BYRON. 221 
 
 " the removal of the wounded, he was recovered by the 
 " kmdness and compassion of a native, and restored to his 
 " family as one from the grave. On coming back to Eng- 
 " land, he employed himself entirely in the duties of his 
 " corps and the study of military tactics, and got a regi- 
 " ment. The French Revolution now broke out, and with 
 " it a flame of liberty burnt in the breast of the young 
 " Irishman. He paid this year a visit to Paris, where he 
 " formed an intimacy with Tom Paine, and came over with 
 " him to England. 
 
 " There matters rested, till, dining one day at his regi- 
 " mental mess, he ordered the band to play * Ca ira,' the 
 " great revolutionary air. A few days afterwards he re- 
 " ceived a letter from head-quarters, to say that the King 
 " dispensed with his services. 
 
 " He now paid a second visit to America, where he lived 
 j " for two years among the native Indians ; and once again 
 1 " crossing the Atlantic, settled on his family estate in Ire- 
 \ " land, where he fulfilled all the duties of a country-gen- 
 1 " tleman and magistrate. Here it was that he became 
 " acquainted with the O'Connors, and in conjunction with 
 I " them zealously exerted himself for the emancipation
 
 222 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " of their country. On their imprisonment he was pro- 
 
 " scribed, and secreted for six weeks in what are called 
 
 " the liberties of Dublin ; but was at length betrayed 
 
 " by a wx)nian. 
 
 " Major Sirr and a party of the military entered his 
 " bed-room, which he always kept unlocked. At the voices 
 " he started up in bed and seized his pistols, when 
 " Major Sirr fired and wounded him. Taken to prison, he 
 " soon after died of his wound, before he could be brought 
 " to trial. Such was the fate of one who had all the qua- 
 " lifications of a hero and a patriot ! Had he lived, per- 
 " haps Ireland had not now been a land of Helots." 
 
 " What did you mean," asked I one day, " by that line 
 in ' Beppo,' — 
 
 ' Some play the devil, and then write a novel' ? " 
 
 " I alluded," replied he, " to a novel that had some fame 
 " in consequence of its being considered a history of my 
 " life and adventures, character and exploits, mixed up 
 " with innumerable lies and lampoons upon others. Ma-
 
 LORD BYRON. 223 
 
 " dame de Stael asked me if the picture was like me, — 
 " and the Germans think it is not a caricature. One of 
 " my foreign biographers has tacked name, place, and cir- 
 " cumstance to the Florence fable, and gives me a princi- 
 " pal instead of a subordinate part in a certain tragical 
 *' history therein narrated. Unfortunately for my biogra- 
 " pliers, I was never at Florence for more than a few days 
 " in my life; and Fiorabella's beautiful flowers are not so 
 " quickly plucked or blighted. Hence, however, it has 
 " been alleged that murder is my instinct ; and to make 
 " innocence my victim and my prey, part of my nature. I 
 " imagine that this dark hint took its origin from one of 
 " my Notes in ' The Giaour,' in which I said that the coun- 
 " tenance of a person dying by stabs retained the character 
 *' of ferocity, or of the particular passion imprinted on it, 
 " at the moment of dissolution. A sage reviewer makes 
 " this comment on my remark : — ' It must have been the 
 " result of personal observation !' 
 
 " But I am made out a very amiable person in that 
 " novel ! The only thing belonging to me in it, is part of 
 " a letter; but it is mixed up with much fictitious and 
 
 " poetical matter. Shelley told me he was offered, by 
 
 " the bookseller in Bond Street, no small sum if he would
 
 224 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " compile the Notes of that book into a story ; but that he 
 
 " dechued the offer. ***** 
 
 ^ * *'* » * * * 
 
 ****** But if I know 
 " the authoress, I have seen letters of hers much better 
 " written than any part of that novel. A lady of my ac- 
 " quaintance told me, that when that book was going to 
 " the press, she was threatened with cutting a prominent 
 
 " figure in it if . But the story would only fur- 
 
 " nish evidence of the unauthenticity of the nature of the 
 " materials, and shew the manner and spirit with which 
 " the piece was got up.— Yet I don't know why I have 
 " been led to talk about such nonsense, which I paid no 
 " more attention to than I have to the continual calum- 
 " nies and lies that have been unceasingly circulated about 
 " me, in i)ublic prints, and through anonymous letters. 
 " I got a whole heap of them when I was at Venice, and 
 " at last found out that I had to thank Mr. Sotheby for 
 " the greater share of them. It was under the waspish- 
 " ness produced by this discovery that I made him figure 
 " also in my ' Beppo' as an * antique gentleman of rhyme,' 
 " a ' bustlhig Botherby,' &c. I always thought him the most 
 " insufferable of bores, and the curse of the Hampbell, as 
 " Edgeworth was of his club. There was a society formed
 
 LORD BYRON. 225 
 
 " for the suppression of Edgeworth, and sending him back 
 " to Ireland ;— but I should have left the other to his 
 
 ' Snug coterie and literary lady,' 
 
 " and to his that Rogers pretended to take 
 
 " for an old arm-chair, if he had not made himself an active 
 " bore, by dunning me with disagreeable news,— and, what 
 " was worse, and more nauseous and indigestible still, with 
 " his criticisms and advice. 
 
 " When Galignani was about to publish a new edition of 
 " my works, he applied to Moore to furnish him with some 
 " anecdotes of me; and it was suggested that we should get 
 " up a series of the most unaccountable and improbable ad- 
 " ventures, to gull the Parisian and travelling world with : 
 " but I thought afterwards that he had quite enough of 
 " the fabulous at command without our inventing any 
 " thinff new, which indeed would have required inge- 
 " nuity.* 
 
 * The reader will laugh when I tell him that it was asserted to a 
 friend of mine, that the Unes ' To Thyrza,' pubUshed with the first 
 Canto of 'Childe Harold,' were addressed to— his bear. There is 
 nothing so malignant that hatred will not invent, or folly believe. 
 
 2 F
 
 226 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " You tell me that the Baron Lutzerode has been ask- 
 " ing you for some authentic particulars of my life, to affix 
 " to his translation of ' Cain,' and thus contradict the Ger- 
 " man stories circulated about me, and which, I under- 
 " stand, even Goethe believes. Why don't you write some- 
 " thing for him, Medwin? I believe you know more of 
 " me than any one else, — things even that are not in 
 " the book." 
 
 I said, " My friend the Baron is a great enthusiast about 
 you, and I am sure you would like him." 
 
 " Taafe told me the other day," he replied, " a noble trait 
 " of him, which perhaps you have not heard, and which 
 " makes me highly respect him. An only child of his was 
 " dangerously ill of a malignant fever : it was supposed by 
 " the physicians that he might be saved by bleeding, but 
 " blood would not follow the lancet, and the Baron breathed 
 " the vein with his mouth. The boy died, and the father 
 " took the contagion, and was near following his child to 
 " the grave." 
 
 " Well then," said I, "shall I bring the Baron ?" 
 
 " I have declined," replied Lord Byron, " going to Court ;
 
 LORD BYRON. 227 
 
 " and as he belongs to it, must also decline his visit 
 " I neither like princes nor their satellites ; though the 
 " Grand Duke is a very respectable tyrant — a kind of 
 " Leopold. I will make my peace with your amiable friend 
 " by sending him a ' Cain ' and ' Don Juan' as a present, 
 " and adding to the first page of the latter an impression 
 " of my seal, with the motto 'Elk vous suit partout.'* This 
 " will please a German sentimentalist." 
 
 " There is an acquaintance of mine here," said I, " who 
 has made a translation of a passage in De la Martine, re- 
 lating to you, which I will shew you. He compares you 
 to an eagle feeding on human hearts, and lapping their 
 blood, &c." 
 
 " Why, we have got a little nest of singing birds here," 
 said he; "I should like to see it. I never met with 
 " the * Meditations Poetiques :' bring it to-morrow." 
 
 The next day I shewed him the lines, which he com- 
 pared with the original, and said they were admi- 
 
 * See 'Don Juan,' Canto I. Stanza 198. 
 
 2f 2
 
 228 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 rable, and that he considered them on the whole very 
 comphmentary ! ! " Tell your friend so, and beg him to 
 " make my compliments to Mr. De la Martine, and say that 
 " I thank him for his verses." 
 
 " Harrow," said he, "has been the nursery of almost 
 " all the politicians of the day." 
 
 " I wonder," said I, " that you have never had the am- 
 bition of being one too." 
 
 " I take little interest," replied he, " in the politics at n ( 
 " home. I am not made for what you call a pohtician, . V. 
 " and should never have adhered to any party.* I should 
 " have taken no part in the petty intrigues of cabinets, \ J 
 " or the pettier factions and contests for power among 
 " parliamentary men. Among our statesmen, Castlereagh 
 
 * " The consequence of being of no party, 
 I shall offend all parties. Never mind ! " 
 
 Don Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 26.
 
 LORD BYRON. 229 
 
 " is almost the only one whom I have attacked ; the only 
 " pubhc character whom I thoroughly detest, and against 
 " whom I will never cease to level the shafts of my political 
 " hate. 
 
 " I only addressed the House twice, and made little 
 " impression. They told me that my manner of speak- 
 " ing was not dignified enough for the Lords, but was 
 " more calculated for the Commons. I believe it was a 
 " Don Juan kind of speech. The two occasions were, 
 " the Catholic Question,* and (I think he said) some Man- 
 " Chester affair. 
 
 " Perhaps, if I had never travelled, — never left my own 
 " country young, — my views would have been more limited. 
 " They extend to the good of mankind in general — of the 
 " world at large. Perhaps the prostrate situation of Por- 
 " tugal and Spain — the tyranny of the Turks in Greece— 
 
 * A gentleman who was present at his maiden speech, on the 
 Catholic question, says, that the Lords left their seats and gathered 
 round him in a circle ; a proof, at least, of the interest which he ex- 
 cited : and that the same style was attempted in the Connnons the 
 next day, but failed.
 
 230 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " the oppressions of the Austrian Government at Venice — 
 " the mental debasement of the Papal States, (not to men- 
 " tion Ireland,) — tended to inspire me with a love of liberty. 
 " No Italian could have rejoiced more than I, to have seen 
 " a Constitution established on this side the Alps. I felt 
 " for Romagna as if she had been my own country, and 
 " would liave risked my life and fortune for her, as I may 
 " yet for the Greeks.* I am become a citizen of the world. 
 " There is no man I envy so much as Lord Cochrane. 
 " His entrance into Lima, which I see announced in to- 
 " day's paper, is one of the great events of the day. Mauro- 
 " cordato, too, (whom you know so well,) is also worthy of 
 
 * " And I will war, at least in words, (and — should 
 My chance so happen,— deeds) with all who war 
 With Thought. And of thought's foes by far most rude 
 Tyrants and Sycophants have been and are. 
 I know not who may conquer : if I coiUd 
 Have such a prescience, it should be no bar 
 To this my plain, sworn, downright detestation 
 Of every despotism in every nation !" 
 
 Don Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 24.
 
 LORD BYRON. 231 
 
 " the best times of Greece. Patriotism and virtue are not 
 " quite extinct." 
 
 I told him that I thought the finest hues he had ever 
 written were his " Address to Greece," beginning — 
 
 " Land of the unforgotten brave ! " 
 
 " I should be glad," said he, " to think that I have added 
 " a spark to the flame.* I love Greece, and take the 
 " strongest interest in her struggle." 
 
 " I did not like," said I, " the spirit of Lambrino's ode ; 
 it was too desponding." 
 
 " That song," replied he, " was written many years ago, 
 " though published only yesterday. Times are much 
 " changed since then. I have learned to think very difFe- 
 " rently of the cause,— at least of its success. I look upon 
 " the Morea as secure. There is more to be apprehended 
 
 " But words are things ; — and a small drop of ink, 
 
 " Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces 
 
 " That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto III. Stanza 88.
 
 232 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " from friends than foes. Only keep the Vandals out of it ; 
 " they would be like the Goths here. " 
 
 " What do you think of the Turkish power," I asked, 
 " and of their mode of fighting ?" 
 
 " The Turks are not so despicable an enemy as people 
 " suppose. They have been carrying on a war with Rus- 
 " sia, or rather Russia with them, since Peter the Great's 
 " time;— and what have they lost, till lately, of any import- 
 " ance ? In 1788 they gained a victory over the Austrians, 
 " and were very nearly making the Emperor of Austria 
 " prisoner, though his army consisted of 80,000 men. 
 
 " They beat us in Egypt, and took one of our Generals. 
 " Their mode of fic-htina; is not unformidable. Their ca- 
 " valry falls very little short of ours, and is better mounted 
 " — their horses better managed. Look, for instance, 
 " at the Arab the Turkish Prince here rides ! — They 
 " are divided into parties of sixty, with a flag or stand- 
 " ard to each. They come doMn, discharge their pieces, 
 " and are supplied by another party; and so on in sue- 
 " cession. When they charge, it is by troops, like our 
 " successive squadrons."
 
 LORD 15 Y R O N. 23;i 
 
 " I reminded you," said I, " the other day of having said, 
 in ' Childe Harold,' that the Greeks would have to fight 
 their own battles,— work out their own emancipation. That 
 was your prophetic age; Voltaire and Alfieri had theirs, 
 and even Goldsmith." 
 
 Shelley, who was present, observed :— " Poets are some- 
 times the echoes of words of which they know not the 
 power,— the trumpet that sounds to battle, and feels not 
 what it inspires." 
 
 " In what year was it," I asked, " that you wrote that 
 
 line, 
 
 " ' Will Frank or Muscovite assist you ? — No !' " 
 
 " Some time in 1811. The ode was written about the 
 '' same time. I expressed the same sentiments in one of 
 " its stanzas.* 
 
 * The lines to which he alluded were — 
 
 " Trust not for freedom to the Franks ; 
 They have a King who buys and seUs 
 
 In 
 
 2 G
 
 234 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I will tell you a plan I have in embryo, I have formed 
 " a strong wish to join the Greeks. Gam.ba is anxious to 
 " be of the party. I shall not, however, leave Italy with- 
 " out proper authority and full power from the Patriot 
 " Government. I mean to write to them, and that will 
 " take time ;— besides, the Guiccioli ! * " 
 
 " In native swords and native ranks, 
 The only hope of freedom dwells !" 
 
 Do)i Juan, Canto III. page 51. 
 
 * I have heard Lord Byron reproached for leaving the Guiccioli. 
 Her brother's accompanying him to Greece, and his remains to Eng- 
 land, prove at least that the family acquitted him of any blame. The 
 disturbed state of the countiy rendered her embarking with him out 
 of the question ; and the confiscation of lier father's property made 
 her jointure, and his advanced age her care, necessary to him. — It 
 requii-ed all Lord Byron's intei'est with the British Envoy, as well 
 as his own guarantee, to protect the Gambas at Genoa. But his own 
 house at length ceased to be an asylum for them, and they were 
 banished the Sardinian States a month before he sailed for Leghorn ; 
 whence, after laying in the snp[)Hcs for liis voyage, he directed his 
 fatal coui'sc to the Morea.
 
 LORD BY RON. 935 
 
 " I have received," said he, " from my sister, a lock of 
 " Napoleon's hair, which is of a beautiful black. If Hunt 
 " were here, we should have half-a-dozen sonnets on it. It 
 " is a valuable present ; but, according to my Lord Carlisle, 
 " I ought not to accept it. I observe, in the newspapers of 
 " the day, some lines of his Lordship's, advising Lady 
 " Holland not to have any thing to do with the snuff-box 
 " left her by Napoleon, for fear that horror and murder 
 " should jump out of the lid every time it is opened! It is 
 " a most ingenious idea — I give him great credit for it." 
 
 He then read me the first stanza, laughing in his usual 
 suppressed way, — 
 
 " Lady, reject the gift," &c. 
 and produced in a fevv minutes the following parody on it : 
 
 " Lady, accept the box a hero wore. 
 In spite of all this elegiac stuff: 
 Let not seven stanzas written by a bore. 
 Prevent your Ladyship from taking snufF!" 
 
 " When will my wise relation leave off" verse-inditing.?" 
 said he. " I believe, of all manias, authorship is the most 
 
 2 G 2
 
 23G CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " inveterate. He might have learned by this time, indeed 
 " many years ago, (but people never learn any thing by ex- 
 " perience,) that he had mistaken his forte. There was 
 " an epigram, which had some logic in it, composed on the 
 " occasion of his Lordship's doing two things in one day, — 
 " subscribing 1000/. and publishing a sixpenny pamphlet ! 
 " It was on the state of the theatre, and dear enough at 
 " the money. The epigram I think I can remember : 
 
 ' Carlisle subscribes a thousand pound 
 Out of his rich domains ; 
 And for a sixpence circles round 
 The produce of his brains. 
 'Tis thus the difference you may hit 
 Between his fortune and his wit.' 
 
 " A man who means to be a poet should do, and should 
 " have done all his life, nothing else but make verses. 
 " There 's Shelley has more poetry in him than any man 
 " living ; and if he were not so mystical, and would not write 
 " Utopias and set himself up as a Reformer, his right to 
 " rank as a poet, and very highly too, could not fail of being 
 " acknowledged. I said what I thought of him the other 
 " day ; and all who are not blinded by bigotry must think
 
 LORD BYRON. 237 
 
 " the same. The works he wrote at seventeen are much 
 " more extraordinary than Chatterton's at the same age." 
 
 A question was started, as to which he considered the 
 easiest of all metres in our language. 
 
 " Or rather," repUed he, " you mean, which is the least 
 " difficult ? I have spoken of the fatal facility of the octo- 
 " syllabic metre. The Spenser stanza is difficult, because 
 " it is like a sonnet, and the finishing line must be good. 
 " The couplet is more difficult still, because the last hue, 
 " or one out of two, must be good. But blank verse is the 
 " most difficult of all, because every line must be good." 
 
 " You might well say then," I observed, " that no man 
 can be a poet who does any thing else." 
 
 During our evening ride the conversation happened to 
 turn upon the rival Reviews. 
 
 " I know no two men," said he, " who have been so infa- 
 " raously treated, as Shelley and Keats. If I had known
 
 238 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " that Milman had been the author of that article on ' The 
 " Revolt of Islam,' I would never have mentioned ' Fazio' 
 " among the plays of the day, — and scarcely know why 
 " I paid him the compliment. In consequence of the 
 " shameless personality of that and another nvnnber of 
 " ' The Quarterly,' every one abuses Shelley, — his name is 
 " coupled with every thing that is opprobrious : but he is 
 " one of the most moral as well as amiable men I know^ 
 " I have now been intimate with him for years, and every 
 " year has added to my regard for him. — Judging from 
 " Milman, Christianity would appear a bad religion for a 
 " poet, and not a very good one for a man. His ' Siege of 
 " Jerusalem' is one ce?ito from Milton ; and in style and 
 " language he is evidently an imitator of the very man 
 " whom he most abuses. No one has been puffed like 
 " Milman : he owes his extravagant praise to Heber. 
 " These Quarterly Reviewers scratch one another's backs 
 " at a prodigious rate. Then as to Keats, though I am 
 " no admirer of his poetry, I do not envy the man, who- 
 " ever he was, that attacked and killed him. Except a 
 " couplet of Dryden's, 
 
 ' On his own bed of torture let him lie, 
 Fit garbage for the hell-hound infamy,'
 
 LORD BYRON. 239 
 
 " I know no lines more cutting than those in ' Adonais,' * 
 " or more feeling than the whole elegy. 
 
 " As Keats is now gone, we may speak of him. I am 
 " always battling with the Snake about Keats, and wonder 
 " what he finds to make a god of, in that idol of the 
 " Cockneys : besides, I always ask Shelley why he does 
 " not follow his style, and make himself one of the school, 
 " if he think it so divine. He will, Uke me, return some 
 " day to admire Pope, and think ' The Rape of the Lock' 
 " and its sylphs worth fifty ' Endymions,' with their faun 
 " and satyr machinery. I remember Keats somewhere 
 " says that 'flowers would not blow, leaves bud,' &c. if 
 " man and woman did not kiss. How sentimental ! 
 
 * The lines to which he referred were these : — 
 
 " Expect no heavier chastisement from rae, 
 But ever at thy season be thou free 
 To spill their venom when thy fangs o'erflow. 
 Remorse and self-contempt shall cling to thee ; 
 Hot shame shall burn upon thy Cain-Uke brow, 
 And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt as now." 
 
 Adonais.
 
 240 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 I remarked that ' Hyperion' was a fine fragment, and a 
 proof of his poetical genius. 
 
 " ' Hyperion ! ' " said he : " why, a man might as well pre- 
 " tend to be rich who had one diamond. ' Hyperion' indeed ! 
 " ' Hyperion ' to a satyr! Why, there is a fine fine in Lord 
 " Thiirlow (looking to the West that was gloriously golden 
 " with the sunset) which I mean to borrow some day : 
 
 ' And all that gorgeous company of clouds ' — 
 " Do you think they will suspect me of taking from Lord 
 " Thurlow ? " 
 
 Speaking to him of ' Lalla Rookh,' he said : 
 
 " Moore did not like my saying that I could never 
 " attempt to describe the manners or scenery of a country 
 " that I had not visited. Without this it is almost im- 
 " possible to adhere closely to costume. Captain Ellis once 
 " asked him if he had ever been in Persia. If he had, he 
 " would not have made his Parsee guilty of such a profanity. 
 " It was an Irishism to make a Gheber die by fire." 
 
 " I have been reading," said I, '" The Lusiad,' and some 
 of Camoens' smaller poems. Why did Lord Strangford call 
 his beautiful Sonnets, &c. translations?"
 
 LORD BYRON. 241 
 
 " Because he wrote," said Lord Byron, " in order to get 
 " the situation at the Brazils, and did not know a word of 
 " Portuguese when he commenced." 
 
 " Moore was suspected of assisting his Lordship," said L 
 " Was that so ? " 
 
 " I am told not," said Lord Byron. " They are great 
 " friends ; and when Moore was in difficulty about the 
 " Bermuda affair, in which he was so hardly used, Lord 
 " Strangford offered to give him 500/. ; but Moore had too 
 " much independence to lay himself under an obligation. 
 " I know no man I would go further to serve than Moore. 
 
 " ' The Fudge Family' pleases me as much as any of his 
 " works. The letter which he versified at the end was 
 " given him by Douglas Kinnaird and myself, and was 
 " addressed by the Life-guardsman, after the battle of 
 *' Waterloo, to Big Ben. Witty as Moore's epistle is, it 
 " falls short of the original. ' Doubling up the Mounseers 
 " in brass,' is not so energetic an expression as was used by 
 " our hero, — all the alliteration is lost. 
 
 " Moore is one of the few writers who will survive the 
 
 2 H
 
 242 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " age in which he so deservedly flourishes. He will live in 
 " his ' Irish Melodies ; ' they will go down to posterity with 
 " the music ; both will last as long as Ireland, or a^ music 
 " and poetry." 
 
 I took leave of Lord Byron on the 15th of March, to 
 visit Rome for a few weeks. Shortly after my departure 
 an affray happened at Pisa, the particulars of which were 
 variously stated. The Courier Francois gave the folio w- 
 inff account of it : — 
 
 't5 
 
 " A superior officer went to Lord Byron a few days ago. 
 A very warm altercation, the reason of which was unknown, 
 occurred between this officer and the English poet. The 
 threats of the officer became so violent, that Lord Byron's 
 servant ran to protect his master. A struggle ensued, in 
 which the officer was struck with a poniard by the servant, 
 and died instantly. The servant fled." 
 
 This was one among many reports that were circulated at 
 Rome, to which I was forced one day to give a somewhat 
 flat contradiction. But the real truth of the story cannot 
 be better explained than by the depositions before the
 
 LORD BYRON. 243 
 
 Governor of Pisa, the copies of which were sent me, and 
 are in my possession.* They state that 
 
 " Lord Byron, in company with Count Gamba, Captain 
 Hay, Mr. Trelawney, and Mr. Shelley, was returning from 
 his usual ride, on the 21st March, 1822; and was perhaps a- 
 quarter of a mile from the Piaggia gate, when a man on 
 horseback, in a hussar uniform, dashed at full speed 
 through the midst of the party, violently jostling (urtando) 
 one of them. Shocked at such ill-breeding, Lord Byron 
 pushed forward, and all the rest followed him, and pulled 
 up their horses on overtaking the hussar. His Lordship 
 then asked him what he meant by the insult ? The hussar, 
 for first and only answer, began to abuse him in the grossest 
 manner ; on which Lord Byron and one of his companions 
 drew out a card with their names and address, and passed 
 on. The hussar followed, vociferating and threatening, 
 with his hand on his sabre, that he would draw it, as he had 
 often done, effectually. They were now about ten paces 
 from the Piaggia gate. Whilst this altercation was going 
 on, a common soldier of the artillery interfered, and called 
 out to the hussar, ' Why don't you arrest them ? Com- 
 
 * See the Appendix for the original depositions. 
 2 II 2
 
 244 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 mand us to arrest them!' Upon which the hussar gave 
 the word to the guard at the gate, ' Arrest— arrest them !' 
 still continuing the same threatening gestures, and using 
 language, if possible, more offensive and insulting. 
 
 " His Lordship, hearing the order given for their arrest, 
 spurred on his horse, and one of the party did the same ; 
 and they succeeded in forcing their way through the sol- 
 diers, who flew to their muskets and bayonets, whilst the 
 gate was closed on the rest, together with the courier, who 
 was foremost. 
 
 " Mr. Trelawney now found his horse seized by the bridle 
 by two soldiers, with their swords drawn, and himself furi- 
 ously assaulted by the hussar, who made several cuts at 
 him with his sabre, whilst the soldiers struck him about 
 the thighs. He and his companions were all unarmed, and 
 asked this madman the reason of his conduct ; but his only 
 reply was blows. 
 
 " Mr. Shelley received a sabre-stroke on the head, which 
 threw him off his horse. Captain Hay, endeavouring to 
 parry a blow with a stick that he used as a whip, the edge 
 of the weapon cut it in two, and he received a wound on 
 his nose. The courier also suffered severely from several
 
 LORD BYRON. 245 
 
 thrusts he received from the hussar and the rest of the 
 soldiers. After all this, the hussar spurred on his horse, 
 and took the road to the Lung' Arno. 
 
 " When his Lordship reached the palace, he gave direc- 
 tions to his secretary to give immediate information to the 
 police of what was going on ; and, not seeing his companions 
 come up, turned back towards the gate. On the way he 
 met the hussar, who rode up to him, saying, ' Are you 
 satisfied ? ' His Lordship, who knew nothing or hardly 
 any thing of the affray that had taken place at the gate, 
 answered, 'No, I am not! Tell me your name!' — 'Ser- 
 jeant-Major Masi,' said he. One of his Loi-dship's servants 
 came up at the moment, and laid hold of the bridle of the 
 Serjeant's horse. His Lordship commanded him to let it 
 go ; when the Serjeant spurred his horse, and rushed 
 through an immense crowd collected before the Lanfranchi 
 palace, where, as he deposes, he was wounded and his 
 thaco found, but how or by whom they knew not, seeing 
 that they were either in the rear or in their way home. 
 They had further to depose that Captain Hay was confined 
 to his house by reason of his wound ; also that the courier 
 had spit blood from the thrust he received in the breast, as 
 might be proved by the evidence of the surgeons."
 
 246 Conversations of 
 
 There was also another deposition from a Mr. James 
 Crawford. It stated that " the dragoon would have drawn 
 his sabre against Lord Byron, in the Lung' Arno, had it not 
 been for the interposition of the servant ; and that Signer 
 Major Masi was knocked off his horse as he galloped past 
 the Lanfranchi palace, Lord Byron and his servants being at 
 a considerable distance therefrom at the time." 
 
 It appears that Signor Major Masi was wounded with a 
 jjitchfork, and his life was for some time in danger; but it 
 was never known by whom the wound had been given. 
 One of the Countess's servants, and two of Lord Byron's, 
 were arrested and imprisoned. It was suspected by the 
 police that, being Italians and much attached to their 
 master,* they had revenged his quarrel ; but no proof was 
 adduced to justify the suspicion. 
 
 * Lord Byi-on was the best of masters, and was perfectly adored 
 by his servants. His kindness w as extended even to their children. 
 He liked them to have their families with them : and I remember one 
 day, as we were entering the hall after our ride, meeting a little boy, 
 of thi-ee or four years old, of the coachman's, whom he took u[) in his 
 arms and presented with a ten-Paul piece.
 
 LORD BYRON. 247 
 
 During the time that the examination was taking place 
 before the poUce, Lord Byron's house was beset by the 
 dragoons belonging to Signor Major Masi's troop, who 
 were on the point of forcing open the doors, but they were 
 too well guarded within to dread the attack. Lord Byron, 
 however, took his ride as usual two days after. 
 
 " It is not the first time," said he, " that my house has 
 " been a bender, and may not be the last." 
 
 All Lord Byron's servants were banished fi-om Pisa, and 
 with them the Counts Gamba, father and son. 
 
 Lord Byron was himself advised to leave it ; and as the 
 Countess accompanied her father, he soon after joined them 
 at Leghorn, and passed six weeks at Monte Nero. His 
 return to Pisa was occasioned by a new persecution of the 
 Gambas. An order was issued for them to leave the Tus- 
 can States in four days ; and on their embarkation for 
 Genoa, the Countess and himself took up their residence 
 (for the first time together) at the Lanfranchi palace where 
 Leigh Hunt and his family had already arrived.
 
 248 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 18th August, 1822. — On the occasion of Shelley's me- 
 lancholy fate I revisited Pisa, and on the day of my arrival 
 learnt that Lord Byron was gone to the sea-shore, to assist 
 in performing the last offices to his friend.* We came to 
 a spot marked by an old and withered trunk of a fir-tree ; 
 and near it, on the beach, stood a solitary hut covered 
 with reeds. The situation was well calculated for a poet's 
 
 * It is hoped that the following memoii", as it relates to Lord 
 Byron, may not be deemed misplaced here. 
 
 Percy Bysshe Shelley was removed from a private school at thirteen, 
 and sent to Eton. He there shewed a character of great eccentricity, 
 mixed in none of the amusements natural to his age, was of a melan- 
 choly and reserved disposition, fond of solitude, and made few friends. 
 Neither did he distinguish himself much at Eton, for he had a great 
 contempt for modern Latin verses, and his studies were directed to 
 any thing rather than the exercises of his class. It was from an early 
 acquaintance with German writers that he probably imbibed a ro- 
 mantic turn of mind ; at least, we find him before fifteen publishing 
 two Rosa-Matilda-like novels, called 'Justrozzi' and 'The Rosicru- 
 cian,' that bore no marks of being the productions of a boy, and were 
 much talked of, and reprobated as immoral by the journalists of the 
 day. He also made great progress in chemistry. He used to say, 
 that nothing ever deliglited him so much as the discovery that there
 
 LORD BYRON. 249 
 
 grave. A few weeks before I had ridden with him and 
 Lord Byron to this very spot, which I afterwards visited 
 
 were no ekments of earth, fire, or water : but before he left school 
 he nearly lost his life by being blown up in one of his experiments, 
 and gave up the pui-suit. He now turned his mind to metaphysics, 
 and became infected with the materialism of the French school. 
 Even before he was sent to University College, Oxford, he had en- 
 tered into an epistolary theological controversy with a dignitary of 
 the Church, under the feigned name of a woman ; and, after the 
 second term, he printed a pamphlet with a most extravagant title, 
 ' The Necessity of Atheism.' This silly woik, which was only a reca- 
 pitulation of some of the arguments of Voltaire and the philosophers of 
 the day, he had the madness to circulate among the bench of Bishops, 
 not even disguising his name. The consequence was an obvious 
 one : — he was summoned before the heads of the College, and, re- 
 fusing to retract his opinions, on the contrary preparing to argue 
 them with the examining Masters, was expelled the University. This 
 disgrace in itself affected Shelley but little at the time, but was fatal 
 to all his hopes of happiness and prospects in life ; for it deprived 
 him of his first love, and was the eventual means of alienating him 
 for ever from his family. For some weeks after this expulsion his 
 father refused to receive him under his roof; and when he did, 
 treated him with such marked coldness, that he soon quitted what 
 he no longer considered his home, went to London privately, and 
 
 2 I
 
 250 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 more than once. In front was a magnificent extent of the 
 blue and windless Mediterranean, with the Isles of Elba 
 
 thence eloped to Gretna Green with a Miss Westbrook, — their united 
 ages amounting to thirty-three. This last act exasperated his 
 father to such a degree, that he now broke off all communication 
 with Shelley. After some stay in Edinburgh, we trace him into 
 Ireland ; and, that country being in a disturbed state, find him pub- 
 Ushing a pamphlet, which had a great sale, and the object of which 
 was to soothe the minds of the people, telhng them that moderate 
 firmness, and not open rebellion, woidd most tend to concihate, and 
 to give them their liberties. 
 
 He also spoke at some of their public meetings with great fluency 
 and eloquence. Returning to England the latter end of 1812, and 
 being at that time an admirer of Mr. Southey's poems, he paid a visit 
 to the Lakes, where himself and his wife passed several days, at 
 Keswick. He now became devoted to poetry, and after imJjuing him- 
 self with * The Age of Reason,' ' Spinosa,' and ' The PoUtical Justice,' 
 composed his ' Queen Mab,' and presented it to most of the literary 
 characters of the day — among the rest to Lord Byron, who speaks of 
 it in his note to ' The Two Foscari ' thus : — " I shewed it to Mr. 
 " Sotheby as a poem of great power and imagination. I never wrote 
 " a line of the Notes, nor ever saw them except in their published 
 " form. No one knows better than the real author, that his opinions
 
 LORD BYRON. 251 
 
 and Gorgona, — Lord Byron's yacht at anchor in the offing : 
 on the other side an almost boundless extent of sandy 
 
 " and mine differ materially upon the metaphysical portion of that 
 " work ; though, in common with all who are not blinded by baseness 
 " and bigotry, I highly admire the poetry of that and his other produc- 
 " tions."' It is to be remarked here, that ' Queen Mab ' eight or ten 
 years afterwards fell into the hands of a knavish bookseller, who pub- 
 lished it on his own account ; and on its publication and subsequent 
 prosecution Shelley disclaimed the opinions contained in that work, as 
 being the crude notions of his youth. 
 
 His marriage, by which he had two children, soon turned 
 out (as might have been expected) an unhappy one, and a se- 
 paration ensuing in 1816, he went abroad, and passed the sum- 
 mer of that year in Switzerland, where the scenery of that ro- 
 mantic country tended to make Nature a passion and an enjoyment ; 
 and at Geneva he formed a friendship for Lord Byron, which 
 was destined to last for life. It has been said that the perfection of 
 every thing Lord Byron wrote at Diodati, (his Third Canto of ' Childe 
 Harold,' his ' Manfred,' and ' Prisoner of Chillon,') owed something 
 to the critical judgment that Shelley exercised over those works, and 
 to his dosing him (as he used to say) with Wordsworth. In the 
 autumn of this year we find the subject of this Memoir at Como, 
 where he wrote ' Rosalind and Helen,' an eclogue, and an ode to the 
 
 2 I 2
 
 252 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 wilderness, uncultivated and uninhabited, here and there 
 interspersed in tufts with underwood curved by the sea- 
 
 Euganean Hills, marked with great pathos and beauty. His first 
 visit to Italy was short, for he was soon called to England by his 
 wife's melancholy fate, which ever after threw a cloud over his own. 
 The year subsequent to this event he married Mary Wolstonecraft 
 Godwin, daughter of the celebrated Mary Wolstonecraft and Godwin ; 
 and shortly before this period, heir to an income of many thousands 
 a-year and a baronetage, he was in such pecuniary distress that he 
 was nearly dying of hunger in the streets ! Finding, soon after his 
 coming of age, that he was entitled to some reversionary property in 
 fee, he sold it to his father for an annuity of 1 000/. a-year, and took a 
 house at Marlow, where he persevered more than ever in his poetical 
 and classical studies. It was during his residence in Buckinghamshire 
 that he wrote his ' Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude ; ' perhaps one of 
 the most perfect specimens of harmony in blank verse that our lan- 
 guage possesses, and fuU of the wild scenes which his imagination had 
 treasured up in his Alpine excursions. In this poem he deifies Nature 
 much in the same way that Wordsworth did in his earlier productions. 
 
 Inattentive to pecuniary matters, and generous to excess, he soon 
 Ibund that he coidd not live on his income ; and, still unforgivcn by 
 his family, he came to a resolution of quitting his native country, and 
 never returning to it. There was another circumstance also that 
 tended to disgust him with England : his children were taken from him
 
 LORD BYRON. 253 
 
 breeze, and stunted by the barren and dry nature of the 
 soil in which it grew. At equal distances along the coast 
 
 by the Lord Chancellor, on the ground of his Atheism. He again 
 crossed the Alps, and took up his residence at Venice. There he strength- 
 ened his intimacy with Lord Byron, and wrote his * Revolt of Islam,' 
 an allegorical poem in the Spenser stanza. Noticed very favourably in 
 Blackwood's Magazine, it fell under the lash of ' The Quarterly,' 
 which indulged itself in much personal abuse of the author, both 
 openly in the review of that work, and insidiously under the critique 
 of Hunt's ' Foliage.' Perhaps little can be said for the philosophy of 
 ' The Loves of Laon and Cythra.' Like Mr. Owen of Lanark, he 
 believed in the perfectibility of human natvire, and looked forward to 
 a period when a new golden age would return to earth, — when all the 
 different creeds and systems of the world woiUd be amalgamated into 
 one, — crime disappear, — and man, freed from shackles civil and reli- 
 gious, bow before the throne " of his own aweless soul," or " of the 
 Power unknown." 
 
 Wild and visionary as such a speculation must be confessed to be in 
 the present state of society, it sprang from a mind enthusiastic in its 
 wishes for the good of the species, and the amelioration of mankind 
 and of society : and however mistaken the means of bringing about 
 this reform or " revolt" may be considered, the object of his whole life 
 and writings seems to have been to develope them. This is particu- 
 larly observable in his next work ' The Prometheus Unbound,' a bold
 
 254 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 stood high square towers, for the double purpose of guard- 
 ing the coast from smuggUng, and enforcing the quaran- 
 
 attempt to revive a lost play of iEschylus. This drama shews an 
 acquaintance with the Greek tragedy -writers which perhaps no other 
 person possessed in an equal degree, and was written at Rome amid 
 the flower-covered ruins of the Baths of Caracalla. At Rome also 
 he formed the story of ' The Cenci ' into a tragedy, which, but for 
 the harrowing nature of the subject, and the prejudice against any 
 thing bearing his name, could not have failed to have had the greatest 
 success, — if not on the stage, at least in the closet. Lord Byron was 
 of opinion that it was the best play the age had produced, and 
 not unworthy of the immediate followers of Shakspeare. 
 
 After passing several months at Naples, he finally settled with his 
 lovely and amiable wife in Tuscany, where he passed the last four 
 years in domestic retirement and intense application to study. 
 
 His acquirements were great. He was, perhaps, the first classic in 
 Euroj>e. The books he considered the models of style for prose and 
 poetry were Plato and the Greek dramatists. He had made himself 
 equally master of the modern languages. Calderon in Spanish, Pe- 
 trarch and Dante in Italian, and Goethe and Schiller in German, were 
 his favourite authors. French he never read, and said he never could 
 understand the beauty of Racine.
 
 LORD BYRON. 255 
 
 tine laws. This view was bounded by an immense extent of 
 the ItaUan Alps, which are here particularly picturesque 
 
 Discouraged by the ill success of his writings — persecuted by the 
 mahce of his enemies — hated by the world, an outcast from his family, 
 and a martyr to a painful complaint, — he was subject to occasional fits 
 of melancholy and dejection. For the last four years, though he 
 continued to write, he had given up publishing. There were two 
 occasions, however, that induced him to break through his resolution. 
 His ardent love of liberty inspired him to write ' Hellas, or the 
 Triumph of Greece,' a drama, since translated into Greek, and 
 which he inscribed to his friend Prince Maurocordato ; and his 
 attachment to Keats led him to publish an elegy, which he entitled 
 ' Adonais.' 
 
 This last is perhaps the most perfect of all his compositions, and 
 the one he himself considered so. Among the mourners at the 
 funeral of his poet-friend he draws this portrait of himself ; (the 
 stanzas were afterwards expunged from the Elegy :) 
 
 " 'Mid others of less note came one frail form, — 
 A phantom among men, — companionless 
 As the last cloud of an expiring storm, 
 Whose thunder is its knell. He, as I guess. 
 Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness
 
 25C CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 from their volcanic and manifold appearances, and which 
 being composed of white marble, give their summits the 
 resemblance of snow. 
 
 Actaeon-like ; and now he fled astray 
 ■\Vith feeble steps on the world's wilderness, 
 And his own thoughts along that rugged way 
 Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey. 
 
 His head was bound with pansies overblown, 
 
 And faded violets, white and pied and blue ; 
 
 And a light spear, topp'd with a cypress cone, 
 
 (Round whose rough stem dark ivy tresses shone. 
 
 Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew,) 
 
 Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart 
 
 Shook the weak hand that grasp'd it. Of that crew 
 
 He came the last, neglected and apart, — 
 
 A herd-abandon 'd deer, struck by the hunter's dart !" 
 
 The last eighteen months of Shelley's life were passed in daily inter- 
 course with Lord Byron, to whom the amiability, gentleness, and ele- 
 gance of his manners, and his great talents and acquirements, had en- 
 deared him. Like his friend, he wished to die young : he perished in the 
 twenty-ninth year of his age, in the Mediterranean, between Leghorn 
 and Lerici, from the upsetting of an open boat. The sea had been to him,
 
 LORD BYRON. 257 
 
 As a foreground to this picture appeared as extraordinary 
 a group. Lord Byron and Trelawney were seen standing 
 
 as well as Lord Byron, ever the greatest delight ; and as early as 1813, 
 in the following lines written at sixteen, he seems to have anticipated 
 that it would prove his grave. 
 
 " To-morrow comes : 
 Cloud upon cloud with dark and deep'ning mass 
 Roll o'er the blacken'd waters ; the deep roar 
 Of distant thunder mutters awfully : 
 Tempest unfolds its pinions o'er the gloom 
 That shrouds the boiling surge ; the pitiless fiend 
 With all his winds and lightnings tracks his prey ; 
 The torn deep yawns, — the vessel finds a grave 
 Beneath its jagged jaws." 
 
 For fifteen days after the loss of the vessel his body was undis- 
 covered ; and when found, was not in a state to be removed. In 
 order to comply with his wish of being buried at Rome, his corpse 
 was directed to be burnt ; and Lord Byron, faithful to his trust as an 
 executor, and duty as a friend, siiperintended the ceremony which 
 I have described. 
 
 The remains of one who was destined to have little repose or hap- 
 piness here, now sleep, with those of his friend Keats, in the burial- 
 
 2 K
 
 258 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 over the burning pile, with some of the soldiers of the guard ; 
 and Leigh Hunt, whose feelings and nerves could not carry 
 him through the scene of horror, lying back in the carriage, 
 — the four post-horses ready to drop with the intensity of the 
 noonday sun. The stillness of all around was yet more felt 
 by the shrill scream of a solitary curlew, which, perhaps 
 attracted by the body, wheeled in such narrow circles round 
 the pile that it might have been struck with the hand, and 
 was so fearless that it could not be driven away. Looking 
 at the corpse, Lord Byron said, 
 
 " Why, that old black silk handkerchief retains its form 
 " better than that human body ! " 
 
 Scarcely was the ceremony concluded, when Lord Byron, 
 agitated by the spectacle he had witnessed, tried to dissipate, 
 in some degree, the impression of it by his favourite re- 
 creation. He took off his clothes therefore, and swam off 
 to his yacht, which was riding a few miles distant. The 
 heat of the sun and checked perspiration threw him into 
 a fever, which he felt coming on before he left the water, 
 
 ground near Caius Cestuss Pyramid ; — " a spot so beautiful," said he, 
 " that it might abuost make one in lo\e with death."
 
 LORD BYRON. 259 
 
 and which became more violent before he reached Pisa. 
 On his return he immediately ordered a warm bath. 
 
 " I have been very subject to fevers," said he, " and am 
 " not in the least alarmed at this. It will yield to my usual 
 " remedy, the bath." 
 
 The next morning he was perfectly recovered. When 
 I called, I found him sitting in the garden under the 
 shade of some orange-trees, with the Countess. They are 
 now always together, and he is become quite domestic. 
 He calls her Piccinina, and bestows on her all the pretty 
 diminutive epithets that are so sweet in Italian. His kind- 
 ness and attention to the Guiccioli have been invariable. A 
 three years' constancy proves that he is not altogether so 
 unmanageable by a sensible woman as might be supposed. 
 In fact no man is so easily led : but he is not to be driven. 
 His spirits are good, except when he speaks of Shelley and 
 Williams. He tells me he has not made one voyage in his 
 yacht since their loss, and has taken a disgust to sailing. 
 
 " I have got Hunt with me," said he, " I will tell you 
 how I became acquainted with him, 
 
 2 K 2
 
 260 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " One of the first visits I paid to Hunt was in prison. I 
 " remember Lady Byron was with me in the carriage, and 
 " I made her wait longer than I intended at the gate of the 
 " King's Bench. 
 
 " When party feeUng ran highest against me, Hunt was 
 " the only editor of a paper, the only literary man, who 
 " dared say a word in my justification. I shall always 
 " be grateful to him for the part he took on that occasion. 
 " It was manly in him to brave the obloquy of standing 
 " alone. 
 
 " Shelley and myself furnished some time ago a suite 
 " of apartments in my house for him, which he now occu- 
 " pies. I believe I told you of a plan we had in agita- 
 " tion for his benefit. His principal object in coming out 
 " was to establish a literary journal, whose name is not 
 " yet fixed. 
 
 " I have promised to contribute, and shall probably make 
 " it a vehicle for some occasional poems ; — for instance, I 
 " mean to translate Ariosto. I was strongly advised by 
 " Tom Moore, long ago, not to have any connection with 
 " such a company as Hunt, Shelley, and Co. ; but I
 
 LORD 15 Y R () N. 261 
 
 " have pledged myself, and besides could not now, if 1 
 " had ever so great a disinclination for the scheme, dis- 
 " appoint all Hunt's hopes. He has a large family, has 
 " undertaken a long journey, and undergone a long series 
 " of persecutions. 
 
 " Moore tells me that it was proposed to him to con- 
 " tribute to the new publication, but that he had de- 
 " clined it. You see I cannot get out of the scrape. 
 " The name is not yet decided upon, — half-a-dozen have 
 *' been rejected. 
 
 " Hunt would have made a fine writer, for he has a great 
 " deal of fancy and feeling, if he had not been spoiled by 
 " cu'cumstances. He was brought up at the Blue-coat 
 " foundation, and had never till lately been ten miles from 
 " St. Paul's. What poetry is to be expected from such a 
 " course of education? He has his school, however, and 
 " a host of disciples. A friend of mine calls ' Rimini ,, 
 " Nimini Pimini ; and ' Foliage,' Follyage. Perhaps he 
 " had a tumble in ' climbing trees in the Hesperides ! ' * But 
 
 The motto to liis book entitled ' Foliage.'
 
 262 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " ' Rimini ' has a great deal of merit. There never were 
 " so many fine things spoiled as in ' Rimini.' " 
 
 " Since you left us," said he, " I have had serious 
 " thoughts of visiting America ; and when the Gambas 
 " were ordered out of Tuscany, was on the point of em- 
 " barkation for the only country which is a sanctuary for 
 " hberty. 
 
 " Since I have been abroad, I have received many civi- 
 ** lities from the Americans ^' ; among the rest, I was 
 
 * I have been favoured with a sight of a letter addressed by Lord 
 Byron to Mr. Church, one of the American Consuls, in which he 
 thus speaks of his Grecian project a few months after : 
 
 " The accounts are so contradictory, as to what mode will be best 
 " for supplying the Greeks, that I have deemed it better to take up 
 " (with the exception of a few supplies) what cash and credit I 
 " can muster, rather than lay them out in articles that might be 
 " deemed superfluous or unnecessary. Here we can learn nothing 
 " but from some of the refugees, who appear cliiefly interested for 
 " themselves. My accounts from an agent of the Committee, an
 
 LORD BYRON. 263 
 
 " acquainted with the captain of one of their frigates 
 " lying in the Leghorn roads, and used occasionally to 
 " dine on board his ship. He offered to take me with 
 " him to America. I desired time to consider; but at 
 " last declined it, not wishing to relinquish my Grecian 
 " project. 
 
 " Once landed in that country, perhaps I should not 
 " have soon left it ;— I might have settled there, for I shall 
 " never revisit England. On Lady Noel's death, I thought 
 " I should have been forced to go home (and was for a 
 " moment bent on doing so on another occasion, which 
 " you know) ; but I told Hanson that I would rather make 
 " any sacrifice. 
 
 " The polite attentions of the American sailor w^ere very 
 " different from the treatment I met with from the captain 
 
 " English gentleman lately gone up to Greece, are hitherto favoui- 
 " able ; but he had not yet reached the seat of the Provisional 
 " Government, and I am anxiously expecting further advice. 
 
 " An American has a better light than any other to suggest to 
 " other nations the mode of obtaining that Uljerty which is the glory 
 " of his own !"
 
 264 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " of a sloop of war belonging to our Navy, who made the 
 " gentleman commanding my yacht haul down my pen- 
 " nant. They might have respected the name of the great 
 " navigator.* In the time of peace, and in a free port, 
 " therq could have been no plea for such an insult. I 
 " wrote to the captain of the vessel rather sharply, and was 
 " glad to find that his first lieutenant had acted without 
 " his orders, and when he was on shore ; but they had been 
 " issued, and could not be reversed. 
 
 " You see I can't go any where without being perse- 
 " cuted. I am going to Genoa in a few days." 
 
 " I have almost finished," said he, " another play, which 
 " I mean to call ' Werner.' The story is taken from Miss 
 " Lee's ' Kruitzner.' There are fine things in ' The Can- 
 " terbury Tales ;' but Miss Lee only wrote two of them : 
 " the others are the compositions of her sister, and are 
 " vastly inferior. 
 
 * His grandfather, Admiral Byron. I have heard him more 
 than once speak of Campbell's having named him in ' The Pleasures 
 of Hope.'
 
 LORD BYRON. 265 
 
 " There is no tale of Scott's finer than ' The German's 
 " Tale.' I admired it when I was a boy, and have continued 
 " to like what I did then. This tale, I remember, par- 
 " ticulaily affected me. I could not help thinking of 
 " the authoress, who destroyed herself. I was very young 
 " when I finished a few scenes of a play founded on that 
 " story. I perfectly remember many of the lines as I go 
 " on. 
 
 " • Vathek' was another of the tales I had a very early 
 " admiration of. You may remember a passage I bor- 
 " rowed from it in ' The Siege of Corinth,' which I almost 
 " took verbatim.* No Frenchman will believe that ' Vathek' 
 
 * " There is a light cloud by the moon ; 
 'Tis passing, and will pass full soon. 
 If by the time its vapoury sail 
 Hath ceased the shaded orb to veil, 
 Thy heart within thee is not changed. 
 Then God and man are both avenged, — 
 Dark will thy doom be — darker still 
 Thine immortality of ill." 
 
 Siege of Corinth. 
 
 2 L
 
 266 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " is the work of a foreigner. It was written at seventeen. 
 " What do you think of the Cave of Ebhs, and the pic- 
 " ture of Eblis himself? There is poetry. I class it in 
 " merit with (though it is a different sort of thing from) 
 " ' Paul and Virginia,' and Mackenzie's ' Man of Feeling,' 
 " and ' La Roche' in ' The Mirror.' " 
 
 ' Werner' was written in twenty-eight days, and one 
 entire act at a sitting. The MS. had scarcely an alte- 
 ration in it for pages together. I remember retaining in 
 my memory one passage, which he repeated to me, and 
 which I consider quite Shakspearian. 
 
 " Four- 
 Five — six hours I have counted, like the guard 
 Of outposts, on the never-merry clock, — ■ 
 That hollow tongue of time, which, even when 
 It sounds for joy, takes something from enjoyment 
 With every clang. 'Tis a perpetual knell, 
 Though for a marriage-feast it rings : each stroke 
 Peals for a hope the less ; the funeral note 
 Of love deep-buried without resurrection 
 In the grave of possession ; whilst the knoll 
 Of long-lived parents finds a jovial echo 
 To triple time in the son's ear."
 
 LORD BYRON. 267 
 
 " What can be expected," said I to him, " from a five- 
 act play, finished in four weeks ?" 
 
 " I mean to dedicate Werner," said he, " to Goethe. I 
 " look upon him as the greatest genius that the age has 
 " produced. I desired Murray to inscribe his name to a 
 " former work ; but he pretends my letter containing the 
 " order came too late. — It would have been more worthy 
 " of him than this." 
 
 " I have a great curiosity about every thing relating 
 " to Goethe, and please myself with thinking there is 
 " some analogy between our characters and writings. So 
 " much interest do I take in him, that I offered to give 
 " 100/. to any person who would translate his 'Memoirs,' 
 " for my own reading.* Shelley has sometimes explained 
 " part of them to me. He seems to be very superstitious, 
 " and is a believer in astrology, — or rather was, for he 
 " was very young when he wrote the first part of his Life. 
 " I would give the world to read ' Faust' in the original. 
 
 * An English translation of this interesting work has lately appeared, 
 
 in 2 vols. 8vo. 
 
 2 L 2
 
 268 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I have been urging Shelley to translate it ; but he said 
 " that the translator of ' Wallenstein' was the only person 
 " hving who could venture to attempt it ; — that he had 
 " written to Coleridge, but in vain. For a man to trans- 
 " late it, he must think as he does/' 
 
 " How do you explain," said I, " the first line, — 
 ' The sun thunders through the sky ' ? " 
 
 " He speaks of the music of the spheres in Heaven," 
 said he, " where, as in Job, the first scene is laid." 
 
 " Since you left us," said Lord Byron, " I have seen 
 " Hobhouse for a few days. Hobhouse is the oldest and 
 " the best friend I have. What scenes we have witnessed 
 " together ! Our friendship began at Cambridge. We 
 " led the same sort of life in town, and travelled in com- 
 " pany a great part of the years 1809, 10, and 11. He 
 " was present at my marriage, and was with me in 1816, 
 " after my separation. We were at Venice, and visited 
 " Rome together, in 1817. The greater part of my 
 " ' Childe Harold' was composed when we were together, 
 " and I could do no less in gratitude than dedicate the
 
 LORD BYRON. 269 
 
 " complete poem to him. The First Canto was inscribed 
 " to one of the most beautiful little creatures I ever saw, 
 " then a mere child : Lady Charlotte Harleigh was ray 
 " lanthe. 
 
 " Hobhouse's Dissertation on Italian literature is much 
 " superior to his Notes on ' Childe Harold.' Perhaps he 
 " understood the antiquities better than Nibbi, or any of 
 " the Cicerones ; but the knowledge is somewhat mis- 
 " placed where it is. Shelley went to the opposite ex- 
 " treme, and never made any notes. 
 
 " Hobhouse has an excellent heart : he fainted when he 
 
 " heard a false report of my death in Greece, and was 
 
 " wonderfully affected at that of Matthews— a much more 
 
 " able man than the Invalid. You have often heard me 
 
 " speak of him. The tribute I paid to his memory was a 
 
 " very inadequate one, and ill expressed what I felt at 
 
 " his loss." 
 
 It may be asked when Lord Byron writes. The same 
 question was put to Madame de Stael : " Vous ne comptez 
 pas sur ma chaise-ct-porteur" said she. I am often with him
 
 270 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 from the time he gets up till two or three o'clock in the 
 morning, and after sitting up so late he must require rest ; 
 but he produces, the next morning, proofs that he has 
 not been idle. Sometimes when I call, I find him at his 
 desk ; but he either talks as he writes, or lays down his 
 pen to play at billiards till it is time to take his air- 
 ing. He seems to be able to resume the thread of 
 his subject at all times, and to weave it of an equal tex- 
 ture. Such talent is that of an improvisators The fair- 
 ness too of his manuscripts (I do not speak of the hand- 
 writing) astonishes no less than the perfection of every 
 thing he writes. He hardly ever alters a word for whole 
 pages, and never corrects a hne in subsequent editions. 
 I do not believe that he has ever read his works over since 
 he examined the proof-sheets ; and yet he remembers 
 every word of them, and every thing else worth remem- 
 bering that he has ever known. 
 
 I never met with any man who shines so much in con- 
 versation. He shines the more, perhaps, for not seeking 
 to shine. His ideas flow without effort, without his hav- 
 ing occasion to think. As in his letters, he is not nice 
 about expressions or words ; — there are no concealments 
 in him, no injunctions to secresy. He tells every thing
 
 LORD BYRON. 271 
 
 that he has thought or done without the least reserve, and 
 as if he wished the whole world to know it ; and does not 
 throw the slightest gloss over his errors. Brief himself, 
 he is impatient of difFuseness in others, hates long stories, 
 and seldom repeats his own. If he has heard a story you 
 are teUing, he will say, " You told me that," and with good 
 humour sometimes finish it for you himself. 
 
 He hates argument, and never argues for victory. He 
 gives every one an opportunity of sharing in the conversa- 
 tion, and has the art of turning it to subjects that may 
 bring out the person with whom he converses. He 
 never shews the author, prides himself most on being 
 a man of the world and of fashion, and his anecdotes 
 of life and living characters are inexhaustible. In spirits, 
 as in every thing else, he is ever in extremes. 
 
 Miserly in trifles— about to lavish his whole fortune on the 
 Greeks ; to-day diminishing his stud— to-morrow taking a 
 large family under his roof, or giving 1000/. for a yacht;* 
 
 * He sold it for 300/. and refused to give the sailors their jackets ; 
 and offered once to bet Hay that he would live on 60/. a-year !
 
 272 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 dining for a few Pauls when alone,— spending hundreds when 
 he has friends. " Nilfuit unquam sic impar sibi." 
 
 I am sorry to find that he has become more indolent. 
 He has almost discontinued his rides on horseback, and has 
 starved himself into an unnatural thinness ; and his diges- 
 tion is become weaker. In order to keep up the stamina 
 that he requires, he indulges somewhat too freely in wine, 
 and in his favourite beverage, Hollands, of which he now 
 drinks a pint almost every night. 
 
 He said to me humorously enough — 
 
 " Why don't you drink, Medwin ? Gin-and-water is the 
 " source of all my inspiration. If you were to drink as 
 " much as I do, you would write as good verses : depend 
 " on it, it is the true Hippocrene." 
 
 On the 28th of August I parted from Lord Byron 
 with increased regret, and a sadness that looked like pre- 
 sentiment. He was preparing for his journey to Genoa, 
 whither he went a few days after my departure. I shall,
 
 LORD BYRON. 273 
 
 I hope, be excused in presenting the pubhc with the 
 following sketch of his character, drawn and sent to a 
 friend a few weeks after his death, and to which I 
 adapted the following motto :* 
 
 NuV Se OaVUlV Xo/lTTttC E(T7rifOC £v ^Stjutvotc. 
 
 " Born an aristocrat, I am naturally one by temper," said 
 Lord Byron. Many of the hues in ' The Hours of Idleness,' 
 particularly the Farewell to Newstead, shew that in early life 
 he prided himself much on his ancestors : but it is their ex- 
 ploits that he celebrates ; and when he mentioned his having 
 
 * The following passage in an unpublished life of Alfieri, which I 
 lately met with, might not inaptly be applied to Lord Byron : 
 
 " Des son enfance tous les symptomes d'un caractere fier, indom- 
 table et melancohque se manifest^rent. Taciturne et tranquille a 1' ordi- 
 naire, mais quelquefois tr^s babillard, tres vif, et presque toujoiu-s dans 
 les extremes — obstine et rebelle a la force, tres soumis aux avis donnes 
 par amiti6 ; contenu plutot par la crainte d' etre grond^, que par toute 
 autre chose ; inflexible quand on voudroit le prendre a rebours ; — tel 
 fiit-il dans ses jeunes annees." 
 
 2 M
 
 274 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 had his pennant hauled down, he said they might have re- 
 spected a descendant of the great navigator. Almost from 
 infancy he shewed an independence of character, which a 
 long minority and a maternal education contributed to en- 
 courage. His temper was quick, but he never long re- 
 tained anger. Impatient of control, he was too proud to 
 justify himself when right, or if accused, to own himself 
 wrong ; yet no man was more unopiniated, more open to 
 conviction, and more accessible to advice,* when he knew 
 that it proceeded from friendship, or was motived by affec- 
 tion or regard. 
 
 " Though opposed to the foreign policy of England, he 
 was no revolutionist. The best proof of his prizing the 
 
 * " Perhaps of all his friends Sir Walter Scott had the most in- 
 fluence over him. The sight of his hand-writing, he said, put him 
 in spii-its for the day. Shelley's disapprobation of a poem caused 
 him to destroy it. In compliance with the wishes of the public, he 
 relinquished the drama. Disown it as he may, he is ambitious of 
 fame, and almost as sensitive as Voltaire or Rousseau : even the gossip 
 of this little town annoys him.' 
 
 Extract from a Letter to a Friend, written at Pisa.
 
 LORD BYRON. 275 
 
 constitution of his own country, was that he wished to see 
 it transplanted on the Continent, and over the world : and 
 his first and last aspirations were for Greece, her liberty and 
 independence. 
 
 " Like Petrarch, disappointed love, perhaps, made him a 
 poet. You know my enthusiasm about him. I consider him 
 in poetry what Michael Angelo was in painting : he aimed 
 at sublime and effect, rather than the finishing of his pic- 
 tures ; he flatters the vanity of his admirers by leaving 
 them something to fill up. If the eagle flights of his ge- 
 nius cannot always be followed by the eye, it is the fault 
 of our weak vision and limited optics. It requires a mind 
 particularly organized to dive into and sound the depths 
 of his metaphysics. What I admire is the hardihood of 
 his ideas — the sense of power that distinguishes his writings 
 fi-om all others. He told me that, when he wrote, he 
 neither knew nor cared what was coming next.* This is 
 the real inspiration of the poet. 
 
 But, note or text, 
 
 I never know the word which will come next." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 41. 
 2 M 2
 
 27G CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Which is the finest of his works ? — It is a question I 
 have often heard discussed. I have been present when 
 ' Childe Harold,' ' Manfred/ ' Cain,' ' The Corsair,' and 
 even ' Don Juan,' were named ;— a proof, at least, of the 
 versatility of his powers, and that he succeeded in many 
 styles of writing. But I do not mean to canvass the merits 
 of these works,— a work on his poetical character and 
 writings is already before the public* 
 
 " Lord Byron's has been called the Satanic school of 
 poetry. It is a name that never has stuck, and never will 
 stick, but among a faction. 
 
 " To superficial or prejudiced readers he appeared to con- 
 found virtue and vice ; but if the shafts of his ridicule fell 
 on mankind in general, they were only levelled against the 
 hypocritical cant, the petty interests, and despicable cabals 
 and intrigues of the age. No man respected more the 
 liberty from which the social virtues emanate. No writings 
 ever tended more to exalt and ennoble the dignity of man 
 and of human nature. A generous action, the memory of 
 
 I alluded to Sir E. Brydges' Letters.
 
 LORD BYRON. 277 
 
 patriotism, self-sacrifice, or disinterestedness, inspired him 
 with the subhmest emotions, and the most glowing thoughts 
 and images to express them ; and his indignation of tyranny, 
 vice, or corruption, fell like a bolt from Heaven on the 
 guilty. We need look no further for the cause of the hate, 
 private and political, with which he has been assailed. But 
 ' in defiance of politics, — in defiance of personality, — his 
 strength rose with oppression ; and, laughing his oppo- 
 nents to scorn, he forced the applause he disdained to 
 solicit.' 
 
 " That he was not perfect, who can deny ? But how 
 many men are better ? — how few have done more good, less 
 evil, in their day ? 
 
 ' Bi-ight, brave, and glorious was his young career ! ' 
 
 And on his tomb may be inscribed, as is on that of 
 Raleigh — 
 
 ' Reader ! should you reflect on his en-ors, 
 
 Remember his many virtues. 
 
 And that he was a mortal !' "
 
 278 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 The high admiration in which Lord Byron was held in 
 Germany may be appreciated by the following communica- 
 tion, and tribute to his memory, which I have just received 
 from the illustrious and venerable Goethe, who, at the 
 advanced age of seventy-five, retains all the warmth of his 
 feehngs, and fire of his immortal genius. 
 
 "Weimar, mth July, 1824. 
 
 " It has been thought desirable to have some details rela- 
 tive to the communication that existed between Lord Noel 
 Byron, alas ! now no more ! and Goethe : a few words will 
 comprise the whole subject. 
 
 " The German poet, who, up to his advanced age, has 
 habituated himself to weigh with care and impartiality the 
 merit of illustrious persons of his own time, as well as his 
 immediate contemporaries, from a consideration that this 
 knowledge would prove the surest means of advancing his 
 own, might well fix his attention on Lord Byron ; and, 
 having watched the dawn of his great and early talents, 
 could not fail to follow their progress through his import- 
 ant and uninterrupted career. 
 
 " It was easy to observe that the public appreciation of his
 
 LORD BYRON. 279 
 
 merit as a poet increased progressively with the increasing 
 perfection of his works, one of which rapidly succeeded 
 another. The interest which they excited had been pro- 
 ductive of a more unmingled delight to his friends, if self- 
 dissatisfaction and the restlessness of his passions had not 
 in some measure counteracted the powers of an imagination 
 all-comprehensive and sublime, and thrown a blight over an 
 existence which the nobleness of his nature gifted him with 
 a more than common capacity for enjoying. 
 
 " His German admirer, however, not permitting himself 
 to come to a hasty and erroneous conclusion, continued to 
 trace, with undiminished attention, a life and a poetical 
 activity equally rare and irreconcileable, and which in- 
 terested him the more forcibly, inasmuch as he could dis- 
 cover no parallel in past ages with which to compare 
 them, and found himself utterly destitute of the elements 
 necessary to calculate respecting an orb so eccentric in 
 its course. 
 
 " In the mean while, the German and his occupations did 
 not remain altogether unknown or unattended to by the 
 English writer, who not only furnished unequivocal proofs 
 of an acquaintance with his works, but conveyed to him.
 
 280 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 through the medium of travellers, more than one friendly 
 salutation. 
 
 " Thus I was agreeably surprised by indirectly re- 
 ceiving the original sheet of a dedication of the tragedy of 
 ' Sardanapalus,' conceived in terras the most honourable to 
 me, and accompanied by a request that it might be printed 
 at the head of the work. 
 
 " The German poet, in his old age, well knowing himself 
 and his labours, could not but reflect with gratitude and 
 diffidence on the expressions contained in this dedication, 
 nor interpret them but as the generous tribute of a superior 
 genius, no less original in the choice than inexhaustible in 
 the materials of his subjects ; — and he felt no disappoint- 
 ment when, after many delays, ' Sardanapalus " appeared 
 without the preface : he, in reality, already thought himself 
 fortunate in possessing a fac-simile in lithograph*, and 
 attached to it no ordinary value. 
 
 " It appeared, however, that the Noble Lord had not 
 
 * Goethe does not mention of what nature the lithogra])h was.
 
 LORD BYRON. 281 
 
 renounced his project of shewing In's contemporary and 
 companion in letters a striking testimony of his friendly 
 intentions, of which the tragedy of ' Werner' contains an 
 extremely precious evidence. 
 
 " It might naturally be expected that the aged German 
 poet, after receiving from so celebrated a person such an 
 unhoped-for kindness (proof of a disposition so thoroughly 
 amiable, and the more to be prized from its rarity in the 
 world), should also prepare, on his part, to express most 
 clearly and forcibly a sense of the gratitude and esteem 
 with which he was affected. 
 
 " But this undertaking was so great, and every day seemed 
 to make it so much more difficult,— for what could be said 
 of an earthly being whose merit could not be exhausted by 
 thought, or comprehended by words ? 
 
 " But when, in the spring of 1 823, a young man of amia- 
 ble and engaging manners, a Mr, S , brought, direct from 
 
 Genoa to Weimar, a few words under the hand of this 
 estimable friend, by way of recommendation, and when 
 shortly after there was spread a report that the Noble 
 
 2 N
 
 282 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Lord was about to consecrate his great powers and varied 
 talents to high and perilous enterprize, I had no longer a 
 plea for delay, and addressed to him the following hasty 
 stanzas : 
 
 " One friendly word comes fast upon another 
 
 From the warm South, bringing communion sweet, — 
 Calling us amid noblest thoughts to wander 
 Free in our souls, though fetter 'd in oiir feet. 
 
 How shall I, who so long his bright path traced, 
 Say to him words of love sent from afar ? — 
 
 To him who with his inmost heart hath struggled, 
 Long wont with fate and deepest woes to war ? 
 
 May he be happy ! — thus himself esteeming, 
 He well might coimt himself a favoured one ! 
 
 By his loved Muses all his son-ows banish'd, 
 
 And he self-known, — e'en as to me he 's known ! " 
 
 " These Jines arrived at Genoa, but found him not. This 
 excellent friend had already sailed ; but, being driven back 
 by contrary winds, he landed at Leghorn, where this effu- 
 sion of my heart reached him. On the eve of his depar- 
 ture, July 23d, 1823, he found time to send me a reply, full 
 of the most beautiful ideas and the divinest sentiments.
 
 LORD BYRON. 283 
 
 which will be treasured as an invaluable testimony of worth 
 and friendship among the choicest documents which I 
 possess. 
 
 " What emotions of joy and hope did not that paper once 
 exeite '.—but now it has become, by the premature death of 
 its noble writer, an inestimable rehc, and a source of un- 
 speakable regret ; for it aggravates, to a peculiar degree in 
 me, the mourning and melancholy that pervade the whole 
 moral and poetical world,— in me, who looked forward 
 (after the success of his great efforts) to the prospect of 
 being blessed with the sight of this master-spirit of the 
 age,— this friend so fortunately acquired ; and of having to 
 welcome, on his return, the most humane of conquerors. 
 
 " But still I am consoled by the conviction, that his coun- 
 try will at once azmke, and shake off, like a troubled dream, 
 the partialities, the prejudices, the injuries, and the calum- 
 nies with which he has been assailed,— that these will sub- 
 side and sink into oblivion,— that she will at length univer- 
 sally acknowledge that his frailties, whether the effect of 
 temperament, or the defect of the times in which he lived, 
 (against which even the best of mortals wrestle painfully,) 
 
 2 N 2
 
 284 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 were only momentary, fleeting, and transitory ; whilst the 
 imperishable greatness to which he has raised her now and 
 for ever remains, and will remain, illimitable in its glory, 
 and incalculable in its consequences. Certain it is, that a 
 nation who may well pride herself on so many great sons, 
 Avill place Byron, all radiant as he is, by the side of those 
 who have done most honour to her name. '
 
 APPENDIX.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 COPIA DEL RAPPORTO 
 
 Fatto a sua Eccellenza il Sig. Governatore di Pisa, sopra 
 I'accaduto al Nobile Lord Noel Byron, ed altri, come dalle 
 sottoscrizioni qui appiedi, il giorno 24 Marzo, 1822. 
 
 Lord Byron, con i suoi compagni qui sottosciitti, tomava caval- 
 cando dalla sua solita passeggiata, ed era forse lungi un quarto di 
 miglio daUa Porta k Piaggie, quando un uomo a cavaUo in uniforme 
 di Ussero passo a tutta carriera in mezzo aUa compagnia, urtando 
 vUlananiente uno dei cavalieri. Lord Byron, adontato di tale villania, 
 gU mosse dietro il suo cavaUo, e tutti gU altri lo seguii-ono. Passati 
 innanzi a cestui, ognuno s' arresto, e Milord lo richiese perch^ avesse 
 fatto queir insulto. L' Ussero, per prima e tutta risposta, comincio a 
 gridare con urU, con bestemmie, e con parole ingiuriose. AUora il 
 nobile Lord ed un altro suo compagno gU presentarono un biglietto, 
 dov' era scritto il suo nome e la sua direzione. Quegli seguito, gri-
 
 288 APPENDIX. 
 
 dando e minacciando che poteva trar la sciabola ; che 1' avrebbe ben 
 tirata, ed anche vi pose la mano. 
 
 Erano prossimi di dieci passi alia porta. In mezzo all' alterco si 
 meschio un semj)lice soldato in unifoime, credesi, da Cannoniere ; e 
 grido all" Ussero, " Comanda alia guardia della porta — arrestateli, 
 arrestateli" — e sempre con modi e con parole le piu villane e le piii 
 insultanti. 
 
 Cio udendo il nobile Lord, spinse il suo cavallo, e un sue compagno 
 di seguito, e in mezzo aUe guardie che mettevano mano ai fucili e 
 baionette, gli riusci di varcare la porta e pi-endere la Strada del Corso 
 verso Casa Lanfranchi. Gli altri tre col corriere venivan dietro, 
 allorche il Signor Tielawney, che era il primo, si trovo il cavallo affer- 
 rato alia briglia da due soldati con le spade sguainate, e assalito for- 
 sennatamente da quell' Ussero che gli scag'io molti coli)i di sciabola, 
 mentre quel soldati lo percuottevano sulla coscia. Egli c i suoi coni- 
 pagni erano tutti inermi, e chiedevano a quel furibondo ragione di una 
 tale infame condotta. Ma egli rispondeva con i colpi. II Signor 
 Shelley s' interpose per farsi scudo all' amico, e fu percosso grave- 
 mente sul capo col pomo, della sciabola, per cui cadde rovesciato da 
 cavallo. II Capitano Hay voile pure parare un colpo al compagno 
 con un bastoncello che aveva ad uso di fault, ma il colpo taglio il bas- 
 tone e giunse a feru'lo sul naso. II corriere fu anche mal concio con 
 inolte percosse dall' Ussero e dagl' altri soldati— Dopo cio 1' Ussero 
 sprono il cavallo e prese la via di Lung' Arno.
 
 RAP FOR TO. 289 
 
 II nobile Lord giunto a casa, fece ordinate al suo segretario che 
 corresse siiliito a dai- conto di cio alia Polizia ; poscia, non vedendo 
 i compagni, torno verso la porta, e per via incontro 1' Ussero che gli si 
 indrizzo dicendo, " Siete voi soddisfatti ?" II nobile Lord come che 
 ignaro della zuffa accaduta sotto la porta, gli rispose " Non sono soddis- 
 fatto — diteini il vostro nome." Cestui rispose, " Masi, Sergente Mag- 
 giore." Un servo di MUord giunse in quell' istante dal Palazzo, e 
 afferro la briglia al cavallo del Sergente. Milord gli comando di 
 lasciarlo. II Sergente allora sprono il cavallo e si lancio Lung' Arno, 
 in mezzo ad un' immensa folia che innanzi al Palazzo Lanfranchi 
 erasi adunata. Ivi, come ci si riporto, fu ferito ; ma noi ignoriarao 
 come e da chi, poiche ognuno di noi trovavasi o in casa o indietro. So- 
 lamente fu recato in casa di Milord il bomiet di questo Sergente. 
 
 E da notare inoltre, che il Capitano Hay si trova confinato in casa 
 per la ferita ricevuta, e che il corriere ha sputato sangue per i colpi 
 avuti nel petto, come si \n\o assicurare dalla relazione dei Chirurghi. 
 
 Questo e il rapporto precise di cio che e passato fra noi e il Sergente 
 Maggiore Masi, coi soldati, &c. In fede di che noi sottosciitti com- 
 proviamo, &c. &c. 
 
 (Signed) Noel Byron. 
 
 H. Hay. 
 
 Percy Bysshe Sheli.ey. 
 Edward Trei.awney. 
 Pisa, 25 Marzo, 1822. Count Pietro Gamba. 
 
 2 o
 
 290 APPENDIX. 
 
 SECONDO RAPPORTO. 
 
 lo osservai Lord Byron venir Domenica sera cavalcando Lung" 
 Arno verso la sua casa, e appena giuntovi ritornare senza esser smon- 
 tato : poscia dii'impetto alia Chiesa di S. Matteo incontro un Dragone, 
 col quale cavalco lungo la strada. Lord Byron aveva in mano una 
 canna. II Dragone rainaccio di trarre la sciabola. Giunti sotto le 
 nostre finestre, Lord Byron stese la mano al Dragone, e gli domando 
 il nome e 1' indirizzo suo. Vennero stringendosi le mani per pochi 
 passi, quando uno dei domestic! di Lord Byron s'intromise e respinse 
 il Dragone dal suo padrone. II Dragone allora sprono al galoppo, 
 e traversando innanzi alia casa di Lord Byron fu ferito sul destro 
 fianco da un bastone lungo sei piedi circa, che quasi lo rovescio dal 
 cavallo. In quell' istante Lord Byron e il suo domestico si trovavano 
 ad una considerabile distanza dal Dragone. 
 
 (Signed) Giacomo Ciiawfoki), Inglese, 
 
 Casa Remediotti, No. 666, Lung' Arno. 
 Pisa, 27 Marzo, 1822.
 
 ( 291 ) 
 
 GOETHE'S BEITRAG ZUM ANDENKEN LORD BYRON'S. 
 
 Man hat gewiinscht einige Nachrichten von dem Verhaltnis zu 
 erlangen, welches zwischen dem, leider zu friih abgeschiedenen 
 Lord Noel Byron und Herm von Goethe bestanden ; hiervon ware 
 kiirzUch soviel zu sagen. 
 
 Der deutsche Dichter, bis ins hohe Alter bemiiht die Verdienste 
 fi-iiherer und mitlebender Manner sorgfaltig und rein anzuerkennen, 
 indem er dies als das sicherste Mittel eigener BUdung von jeher 
 betrachtete, musste wohl auch auf das gi-osse Talent des Lords, bald 
 nach dessen erstem Erscheinen aufmerksam werden, wie er denn 
 auch die Fortschritte jener bedeutenden Leistungen und eines un- 
 unterbrochenen Wirkens unablassig begleitete. 
 
 Hierbey war denn leicht zu bemerken, dass die allgemeine Aner- 
 
 kennung des dichterischen Verdienstes mit Vennehrung und Steige- 
 
 rung rasch auf einander folgender Productionen in gleicheni Maase 
 
 fortwucns. Auch ware die diesseitige frohe Theilnahme hieran, 
 
 horhst vollkommen gewesen, hatte nicht der geniale Dichter eine 
 
 leidenschaftlicke Lebensweise, durch inneres Misbehagen und ein so 
 
 geistreiches als griinzenloses Hervorbringen sich selbst und seinen 
 
 Freunden den reizenden Genuss an seinem hohen Daseyn einiger- 
 
 massen verkiimmert. 
 
 2 o2
 
 292 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Der deiitsche Bewunderer jedoch, hiedurcli nicht geirrt, folgte init 
 Aufmerksamkeit einera so seltenen Leben und Dichten in aller seiner 
 Excentricitat, die freilich um desto auftallender seyn muste, als ihres 
 Gleichen in vergangenen Jahrliundcrten nicht wohl zu entdecken 
 gewesen und uns die Elemente zu Berechnung einer solchen Bahn 
 vollig abgingen. 
 
 Indessen waren die Bemiihungen des Deutschen dem Engliinder 
 nicht unbekannt geblieben, der daron in seinen Gedichten unzvveir- 
 deutige Beweise darlegte, nicht weniger sich durch Reisende niit 
 manchem freundlichen Gruss vernehmen lies. 
 
 Sodann aber folgte, iiberraschend, gleichfals durch Vermittelung, 
 das Original — Blatt einer Dedication des Trauerspiels Sardauapalus in 
 den ehrenreichsten Ausdriicken und mit der freundlichen Anfrage, ob 
 seiche gedachteni Stiick vorgedruckt werden konnte. 
 
 Der Deutsche, mit sich selbst und seinen Leistungen im hohen 
 Alter wohlbekannte Dichter durfte den Inhalt jener Widmung nur 
 als Aeusserung eines trefflichen, hochfiihlenden, sich selbst seine 
 Gegenstande schaffenden, unerschcipflichen Geistes rnit Dank und 
 Bescheidenheid betrachten ; auch fiihlte er sich nicht unzufricden, als, 
 bei mancherley Verspatung, Sardanapal ohne ein solches Vorwort 
 gedruckt wurde und fand sich schon gliicklich im Besitz eines litho- 
 graphirten Fac simile, zu hbchst werthem Andenken.
 
 GOETHE'S BEIT RAG, &c. 293 
 
 Doch gab der edle Lord seinen Vorsatz nicht auf, dem deutschen 
 Zeit-und Geist Genossen eine bedeutende Freundlichkeit zu erweisen ; 
 wfe denn das Trauerspiel Werner ein hochst schatzbares Denkmal an 
 der Stirne fiihrt. 
 
 Hiemach wird man denn wohl dem deutschen Dichtergreise zu- 
 trauen, dass er einen so griindlich guten VVillen, welcher uns auf 
 dieser Erde selten begegnet, von einem so hoch gefeyerten Manne 
 ganz unverlioftt erfahrend, sich gleichfals bereitete mit Klarheit 
 und Kraft auszusprechen, von welcher Hochachtung er fiir seinen 
 uniibertroffenen Zeitgenossen durchdrungen, von welchem theil- 
 nehmenden Gefiihl fiir ihn er belebt sey. Aber die Aufgabe fand 
 sich so gross, und erschien immer grosser, jemehr man ihr naher 
 trat ; denn was soil man von einem Erdgeboraen sagen, dessen 
 Verdienste durch Betrachtung und Wort nicht zo erschopfen 
 sind ? 
 
 Als daher ein junger Mann, Herr Sterling, augenehm von Person 
 und rein von Sitten, im Friihjahr 1823, seinen Weg von Genua 
 gerade nach Weimar nahm, und auf einem kleinen Blatte Avenig 
 eigenhandige Worte des verehrten Mannes als Empfehlung iiber- 
 brachte, als nun bald darauf das Geriicht verlautete, der Lord werde 
 seinen grossen Sinn, seine manigfaltigen KrJifte, an erhaben- 
 gefahrliche Thaten iiber Meer verwenden, da war nicht liinger zu 
 ^audern und eilig nachstehendes Gedicht geschrieben :
 
 294 APPENDIX. 
 
 Ein freundlich Wort kommt eines nach dera andern. 
 Von Siiden her und bringt uns frohe Stunden ; 
 
 Es ruft uns auf zum Edelsten zu wandern, 
 
 Nicht ist der Geist, doch ist der Fuss gebunden. 
 
 Wie soil ich dem, den ich so lang' begleitet 
 
 Nun etwas Travdich's in die Feme sagen ? 
 Ihm, der sich selbst irn Innersten bestreitet, 
 
 Stark angewohnt, das tiefste Weh zutragen. 
 
 Wohl sey ihm ! doch wenn er sich selbst empfindet, 
 Er wage selbst sich hoch begliickt zu nennen, 
 
 Wenn Musenkraft die Schmerzen iiberwindet, 
 Und wie ich ihn erkannt, mog' er sich kennen. 
 
 Wei?)wr, den 22 Juny, 1823. 
 
 Es gelangte nach Genua, fand in aber nicht mehr daselbst, sthon 
 war der trefliche Freund abgesegelt und schien einem jeden schon 
 weit entfernt ; durch Stiirme jedoch zuriickgehalten, landete er in 
 Livorno, wo ihn das herzlich gesendete gerade noch traf, um es im 
 AugenbHcke seiner Abfalut, den 24 Jidy, 1823, mit einem reinen, 
 schon-gefiihlten Blatt erwiedern zu konnen; als werthestes Zeugnis 
 eines wiirdigen Verhaltnisses unter den kostbarsten Documenten 
 vom Besitzer auf zubewahren.
 
 GOETHE'S BE IT RAG, &c. 295 
 
 So sehr uns nun ein solches Blatt erfreuen und riihren und zu der 
 schonsten Lebenshoffnung aufregen musste, so erhiilt es gegenwiiitig 
 diu'ch das unzeitige Ableben des hohen Schreibenden den grossten 
 schmerzlichsten Werth, indem es die algemeine Trailer der Sitten — 
 und Dichterwelt iiber seinen Verlust, flir uns leider ganz insbeson- 
 dere, scharft, die wir nach vollbrachtem grossen Bemiihen hoffen 
 durften den vorziiglichsten Geist, den gliicklich erworbenen Freund 
 und zugleich den menschlichsten Sieger, personlich zu begriissen. 
 
 Nun aber erhebt uns die Ueberzeugung, dass seine Nation, aus dem, 
 theilweise gegen ihn aufbrausenden, tadelnden, scheltenden Taumel 
 plbtzlich zur Niichtemheit erwachen und algemein begreifen werde, 
 dass alle Schaalen und Schlacken der Zeit und des Individuums, 
 durch welche sich auch der beste hindurch und heraiis zu 
 arbeiten hat, niir augenblicklich, verganglich und hinfallig gewe- 
 sen, wogegen der staunungswiirdige Ruhm, zo dem er sein Vater- 
 land fiir ietzt und kiinftig erhebt, in seiner Herrlichkeit gianzenlos 
 und in seinen Folgen unberechenbar bleibt. Gewiss, diese Nation, 
 die sich so vieler grosser Namen riihmen darf, wii"d ihn verklart 
 zu denjenigen stetten, durch die sie sich immerfort selbst zu ehren 
 hat.
 
 296 APPENDIX. 
 
 [In the absence of the Author, who is in Switzerland, the London 
 Editor has ventured to add a few Documents, which he trusts will be 
 considered as a desirable Supplement. The following Letter in par- 
 ticvdar, relative to Loi'd Byron's great contemporary Sir Walter Scott, 
 will no doubt be read with universal admiration :] 
 
 iris. ( 
 
 To M. H. Beyle, 
 
 Rue de Richelieu, Pari 
 
 Genoa, May 29, 1823. 
 Sir, 
 
 At present, that I know to whom I am indebted for 
 
 a very flattering mention in the " Rome, Naples, and Florence in 
 1817, by Mons. Stendhal," it is fit that I should return my thanks 
 (however undesired or undesirable) to Mons. Beyle, with whom I had 
 the honour of being acquainted at Milan in 1816. You only did me 
 too much honour in what you were pleased to say in that work ; but 
 it has hardly given me less pleasure than the praise itself, to become at 
 length aware (which I have done by mere accident) that I am indebted 
 for it to one of whose good opinion I was really ambitious. So many 
 changes have taken place since that period in the Milan circle, that I 
 hardly dare recur to it ; — some dead, some banished, and some in the 
 Austrian dungeons. — Poor Pellico ! I trust that, in his iron solitude, 
 his Muse is consoling him in part — one day to delight us again, when 
 both she and her Poet are restored to freedom. 
 
 Of your works I have only seen " Rome" &c., the Lives of 
 Haydn and Mozart, and the brochure on Racine and Shakspeare. 
 The " Histoirc de la Peintuie" I have not yet the good fortune to 
 possess.
 
 L E T T E R, &c. 297 
 
 There is one part of your observations in the pamiililet which I 
 shall venture to remark upon ;— it regards Walter Scott. You say 
 that " his character is little worthy of enthusiasm," at the same time 
 that you mention his productions in the manner they deserve. I have 
 known Walter Scott long and well, and in occasional situations which 
 call forth the real character— and I can assure you that his character 
 is worthy of admiration — that of all men he is the most open, the 
 most honourable, the most amiable. With his politics I have nothing 
 to do: they differ from mine, which renders it difficult for me to 
 speak of them. But he is perfectly sincere in them ; and Sincerity 
 may be humble, but she cannot be servile. I pray you, therefore, to 
 correct or soften that passage. You may, perhaps, attribute this 
 officiousness of mine to a false affectation of candour, as I happen to 
 be a writer also. Attriljute it to what motive you please, but believe 
 the truth. I say that Walter Scott is as nearly a thorough good man 
 as man can be, because I know it by experience to be the case. 
 
 If you do me the honour of an answer, may I request a speedy 
 one ? — because it is possible (though not yet decided) that circum- 
 stances may conduct me once more to Greece. My present address is 
 Genoa, where an answer will reach me in a short time, or be for- 
 warded to me wherever I may be. 
 
 I beo- you to believe me, with a lively recollection of om- brief 
 acquaintance, and the hope of one day renewing it, 
 
 Your ever obliged 
 
 And obedient humble servant, 
 
 (Signed) NOEL BYROx\. 
 
 2 p
 
 298 APPENDIX. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT 
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 
 
 [The Editor is indeljted for the following interesting Account of 
 Lord Byron's Residence in Greece, &c. to " The Westminster Review,'* 
 a publication which has already justly acquired a high name in the 
 jieriodical Uteratiu-e of England.] 
 
 The motives which induced Lord Byron to leave Italy and join the Greeks 
 struggling for emancipation from the yoke of their ignorant and cruel oppres- 
 sors, are of so ohvious a nature, that it is scarcely worth while to allude to them. 
 It was in Greece that his high poetical faculties had heen first most powerfully 
 developed ; and they who know the delight attendant, even in a very inferior 
 degree, upon this intellectual process, will know how to appreciate the tender 
 associations which, " soft as the memory of buried love," cling to the scenes and 
 the persons that have first stimulated the dormant genius. Greece, a land of 
 the most venerable and illustrious history, of a peculiarly grand and beautiful 
 scenery, inhabited by various races of the most wild and picturesque manners, 
 was to him tlic land of excitement, — never-cloying, never-wearying, ever- 
 changing excitement : — sucii must necessarily have been the chosen and favourite 
 spot of a man of powerful and original intellect, of quick and sensible feelings.
 
 LORD BYRONS RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 299 
 
 of a restless and untameable spirit, of warm affections, of various infonnation, — 
 and, above all, of one satiated and disgusted with the formality, hypocrisy, and 
 sameness of daily life. Dwelling upon that country, as it is clear from all 
 Lord Byron's writings he did, with the fondest sohcitude, and being, as he was 
 well known to be, an ardent though perhaps not a very systematic lover of 
 freedom, we may be certain that lie was no unconcerned spectator of its recent 
 revolution : and as soon as it appeared to him that his presence miglit be useful, 
 he prepared to visit once more the shores of Greece. The imagination of Lord 
 Byron, however, was the subject and servant of his reason — in this instance he 
 did not act, and perhaps never did, under the influence of the delusions of a wild 
 enthusiasm, by which poets, very erroneously as regards great poets, are sup- 
 posed to be generally led. It was not until after very serious deliberation of 
 the advantages to be derived from this step, and after acquiring all possible in- 
 formation on the subject, that he determined on it ; and in this as in every other 
 act regarding this expedition, as we shall find, proved himself a wise and prac- 
 tical philanthropist. Like aU men educated as he had been, Lord Byron too 
 often probably obeyed the dictates of impulse, and threw up the reins to 
 passions which he had never been taught the necessity of governing ; but the 
 world are under a grievous mistake if they fancy that Lord Byron embarked 
 for Greece with the ignorant ardour of a schoolboy, or the flighty fanaticism of 
 a crusader. It appeared to him that there was a good chance of his being 
 useful in a country which he loved— a field of honourable distinction was 
 open to him, and doubtless he expected to derive no mean gratification from 
 witnessing so singular and instructive a spectacle as the emancipation of 
 Qreece.— A glorious career apparently presented itself, and he determined to 
 try the event. When he had made up his mind to leave Italy for Greece, he 
 wrote from Genoa to one of his most intimate friends, and constant companions, 
 then at Rome, saying, 
 
 « T , vou must have heard I am going to Greece; why do you not come to me ? 
 
 I am at last determined— Greece is the only place I ever was contented in— I am 
 serious— and did not write before, as I might have given you a journey for nothing:— 
 they all say I can he of great use in Greece. I do not know how, nor do they, but at 
 aU events let us try !" 
 
 He had, says this friend, who knew him well, become ambitious of a name as 
 distinguished for deeds, as it was ah-eady by his writings. It was but a short 
 
 2 p 2
 
 300 APPENDIX. 
 
 time before liis decease, that iie composed one of the most beautiful and touch- 
 ing of his songs on his 36tli birth-day, whidi remarkably proves the birth of 
 this new passion. One stanza runs as follows : 
 
 If thou regret thy youth, why live ? 
 
 The' land of honourahle death 
 
 Is here — Up to the Held, and give 
 
 Away thy hreath — 
 
 Awake not Greece — S'/ic is awake. 
 
 Awake ?»'/ spirit !— 
 
 Lord Byron embarked from Leghorn and arrived in Cephalonia in the early 
 .part of August, 1823, attended by a suite of six or seven friends in an English 
 vessel (the Hercules, Captain Scott), which he had hired for the express pur- 
 pose of taking him to Greece. His Lordship had never seen any of the vol- 
 canic mountains, and for this purpose the vessel deviated from its regular 
 course in order to pass the island of Stromboli. The vessel lay off this place 
 a whole night in the hopes of witnessing the usual phenomena, when, for the 
 first time within the memory of man, the volcano emitted no fire — the dis- 
 appointed poet was obliged to proceed in no good humour with the fabled 
 forge of Vulcan. 
 
 Lord Byron was an eager and constant observer of nature, and generally 
 spent the principal part of the night in solitary contemplation of the objects 
 that present themselves in a sea voyage. " For man}' a joy could he from 
 night's soft presence glean." He was far above any affectation of poetical 
 ecstasy, but his whole woi-ks demonstrate the sincere dehght he took in feeding 
 his imagination with the glories of the material world. Marine imagery is 
 more characteristic of his writings than those of any other poet, and it was to 
 the Mediterranean and its sunny shores that he was indebted for it all. 
 
 As the stately vessel glided slow 
 
 Beneath the sliadnw nf that ancient mount. 
 
 He watched the billows' melancholy flow. 
 
 And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont. 
 
 More j)lacid seem'd his eye, and smooth his pallid front. 
 
 « 
 
 It was a point of the greatest importance to determine on the particular 
 
 part of Greece to which his Lordship should direct his coiu-se — the country
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 301 
 
 was afflicted by intestine divisions, and Lord Byron thought that if he wislied 
 to serve it, he must i<eep aloof from faction. The different parties had tlicir 
 different seats of influence, and to choose a residence, if not in fact, was m 
 appearance to choose a party. In a country where communication is impeded 
 by natural obstacles and unassisted by civilized regulation>, whlcli had scarcely 
 ^ucceeded in expeUing a barbarian master, and where the clashing interests of 
 contending factions often make it advantageous to conceal the truth, the extreme 
 difficulty of procuring accurate information may be easily supposed. It, there- 
 fore, became necessary to make some stay in a place which might serve as a 
 convenient post of observation, and from which assistance could be rendered 
 where it appeared to be most needed. Cephalonia was fixed upon; where 
 Lord Byron was extremely well received by the English civil and military 
 authorities, who, generally speaking, seemed well inclined to further the 
 objects of his visit to Greece. Anxious, however, to avoid involving the 
 government of the island in any difficulty respecting himself, or for some 
 other cause, he remained on board the vessel until further intelligence could be 
 
 procured. 
 
 At the time of Lord Byron s arrival in the Ionian Islands, Greece, though 
 even then an intelligent observer could scarcely entertain a doubt of her ulti- 
 mate success, was in a most unsettled state. The third campaign had com- 
 menced, and had already been marked by several instances of distinguished 
 success. Odysseus and Niketas had already eftectually harassed and dispersed 
 the two armies of Yusuff Pasha, and ]\Iustapha Pasha, who had entered 
 Eastern Greece, by the passes of Thermopylae. Corinth, still held by the 
 Turks, was reduced to the greatest extremities— and, indeed, surrendered in 
 the course of the autumn.— The Morea might almost be said to be thoroughly 
 emancipated. Patras, Modon, and Coron, and tlic Castle of the Morea, did 
 then and still hold out against the combined assaults of famine and the troops 
 of the besiegers. But the ancient Pelopormesus had, at this moment, more to 
 fear from the dissensions of its chiefs, than the efforts of the eneni} — they had 
 absolutely assumed something like the character of a civil war. The generals 
 had been ordered on different services, when it appeared that the funds 
 destined for the maintenance of their armies were already consumed in satis- 
 fying old demands for arrears. Much confusion arose, and a bloody conflict 
 actually took place in the streets of Tripolitza, between a troop of Spartiates
 
 3Q2 APPENDIX. 
 
 and another of Arcadians, the followers of rival leaders. The mihtary chiefs, 
 at the head of whom was the able but avaricious Colocotronis, at that time 
 Vice-president of the Executive Government, were jealous of the party which 
 may be termed the civil faction. Over this party presided Mavrocordatos' 
 who, as a Constantinopolitan, was considered as a foreigner, and who, on 
 account of his being a dexterous diplomatist, a good letter-writer, and a lover 
 of intrigue, was regarded with feelings of jealousy and hatred by the rude and 
 iron-handed generals of the Morea. Mavrocordatos was Secretary for Foreign 
 Affairs, and was accused of holding correspondence with foreign Courts without 
 the knowledge of the Government, and of aiming at getting himself elected the 
 President of the Legislative Body. It turned out that the actual President fled 
 from the seat of government, and tliat Mavrocordatos was elected into the 
 office. He too was soon obliged to retreat, and had just resigned the office and 
 retired to the island of Hydra, where the civil and commercial party was 
 strong, and where he was held in considerable estimation, when Lord B^'ron 
 arrived at Ccphalonia. 
 
 At this moment, too. Western Greece was in a very critical situation — Mus- 
 tapha. Pasha of Scutari, was advancing into Acarnania in large force, and was 
 on the point of being resisted by the chivalrous devotion of the brave Marco 
 Botzaris. This chief, worthy of the best days of Greece, succeeded on the 9th 
 of August (O.S.) by his famous night-attack, in cutting off a considerable part 
 of the Turkish army, and fell a sacrifice to his generous efforts. In spite of 
 this check, however, the Pasha advanced and proceeded towards Anatolicon 
 and Messolonghi ; the latter place was invested by Mustapha, and the Alba- 
 nian chief, Omer-Vriones, by the early part of October. The Turkish fleet 
 had arrived in the waters of Patras about the middle of June, and continued 
 to blockade (at least nominally) i\fessolonghi, and all the other ports of 
 Western Greece, up to the ai-rival of Lord Byron. 
 
 Previous to Marco Botzaris' arrival at Carpenissi, the httle village where he 
 discomfited the Turks, he had heard of Lord Byron''s arrival in Greece ; and it 
 is not a little remarkable that the last act he did before proceeding to the 
 attack, was to write a warm invitation for his I^ordship to come to Messolonghi, 
 offering to leave the army, and to give him a public reception in a manner 
 suitable to the occasion and serviceable to the cause. 
 
 To all who know the circumstances of that memorable battle and the cha-
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 303 
 
 racter of this lieroic man, this letter eaniiot fail to be interesting. We will 
 translate the part which relates to Lord Byron. It is dated at the " piccolo 
 villagio" of Carpenissi on the Jts of August. 
 
 " I am delighted," he says to a friend in Cephalonia, " with your account of Lord 
 Byron's disposition with respect to our country. The advice you have given his 
 Lordship to direct his attention to Western Greece, lias caused us the greatest satis- 
 faction ; and I feel obliged by your continued exertions in the service of our country. 
 I am not a little pleased at his Lordship's peculiar attention to my fellow-country- 
 men the Suliotes, on whom he has conferred the honour of selecting them for his 
 guards. Avail yourself of this kindness of his Lordship, and persuade him to come 
 as speedily as possible to Messolonghi, where we will not fail to receive him with 
 every mark of honour due to liis person ; and as soon as I hear of his arrival, I will 
 leave the army here and proceed to join him with a few companions. AU will soon 
 be riglit ; the disturbances in Roumelia are only temporary and will be easily settled. 
 I trust you are informed of all that has occurred here — that the Pacha of Scutari has 
 advanced to Aspropotamos and Agrapha, and has penetrated to Carpenissi. We are 
 going to meet him ; we have possession of all the strong posts, and trust that the 
 enemy will be properly resisted." 
 
 Botzaris alludes to almost the first act of Lord Byron in Greece, which was 
 the arming and provisioning of forty Suliotes whom he sent to join in the 
 defence of Messolonghi. After the battle he transmitted bandages and medi- 
 cines, of which he had brought a large store from Italy, and pecuniary succour 
 to those who had been wounded in the battle. 
 
 He had already made a very generous ofFer to the Government, to which he 
 himself alludes, as well as to the dissensions in Greece, in a letter of which this 
 is an extract : 
 
 " I offered to advance a thousand dollars a month for the succour of Messolonghi, 
 and the Suliotes under Botzaris (since kill'd) ; but the Government have answered me 
 
 through of this island, that they wish to confer with me previously, 
 
 which is in fact saying they wish me to expend my money in some other direction. 
 I will take care that it is for the public cause, otherwise I ^^■ill not advance a para. 
 The opposition say they want to cajole me, and the party in power say the others wish 
 to seduce me; so between the two I have a difficult part to play: however, I will 
 
 have nothing to do with the factions, unless to reconcile them, if possible " 
 
 Though strongly solicited in the most flattering manner by Count Metaxa, 
 the Exarch of Messolonghi, and others to repair to that place, Lord Byron had
 
 304 APPENDIX. 
 
 too reasonable a fear of falling into the hands of a party to take a decided step 
 in his present state of information.— He determined to communicate alone with 
 the established Government : for this purpose he despatched two of the friends 
 who had accompanied him to Greece, Mr. Trelawney and Mr. Hamilton 
 Browne, in order to deliver a letter from him to the Government, and to collect 
 intelligence respecting the real state of things. The extreme want of money 
 which was at that time felt in Greece, and the knowledge that Lord Byron had 
 brought laro-e funds with tlie intention of devoting them to the cause, made all 
 ])arties extremely eager for his presence. He, however, yielded to none of the 
 pressing entreaties that were made to him ; but after waiting undecided six 
 weeks in his vessel he took u]3 his residence on shore. Avoiding the capital 
 of Cephalonia he retired to the small village of Mctaxata, within five or six 
 miles of Argostoli, where he remained all the time he was on the island. It is 
 difficult for one unacquainted with the European reputation of Lord Byron's 
 writings, and with the peculiar wants, and the peculiar character of the Greeks, 
 to conceive a just idea of the sensation which his arrival created in Greece. It 
 is impossible to read the letters which were addressed to him at this time from 
 every quarter, and not be struck with the glorious sphere of action which pre- 
 sented itself, and at the same time not proportionately lament the stroke which 
 deprived the country of his assistance before he had comjiaratively effected any 
 tiling of importance. 
 
 Established at Metaxata as a convenient jjlace of observation, he resumed 
 his usual occupations, while he kept a watchful eye on all the transactions of 
 Greece, and carried on a very active intercourse with every part of it. Those 
 who know Lord Byron's character, know that he rarely resisted the impulse of 
 his feelings, and that fortunately these impulses were generally of the most 
 benevolent kind. As usual, the neighbourhood of his residence never ceased 
 to experience some kind and munificent exertion of his unfailing, but by no 
 means indiscriminate or ill applied, generosity. His physician says, that the 
 day seemed sad and gloomy to him when he had not employed himself in some 
 generous exertion. He provided even in Greece for many Italian families in 
 distress, and indulged the people of the country even in }iaying for the religious 
 ceremonies which they deemed essential to their success. Our informant 
 mentions one circumstance in particidar which affords some idea of the way in 
 which he loved to be of service. While at Metaxata, the fall of a large mass of
 
 LORD BYRONS RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 305 
 
 earth had buried some persons alive. He heard of the accident while at dinner, 
 and starting up from the table, ran to the spot accompanied by his physician, 
 who took with him a supply of medicines. The labourers, who were engaged 
 in digging out their companions, soon became alarmed for themselves, and 
 refused to go on, saying, they believed they had dug out all the bodies which 
 had been covered by the ruins. Lord Byron endeavoured to induce them to 
 continue their exertions ; but finding menaces in vain, he seized a spade and 
 began to dig most zealously : at length the peasantry joined him, and they 
 succeeded in saving two more persons from certain death. 
 
 It was to Metaxata that Dr. Kennedy, a methodistical physician then 
 residing in Cephalonia, used to resort for the purpose of instilUng the im- 
 portance of religious meditation and certain scriptural truths into the mind of 
 Lord Byron, who had the reputation of not holding them in sufficient reverence. 
 These conferences we are informed by an autlitor of them, if not of the most 
 instructive, were yet of a very amusing kind. The Doctor, though he is said 
 to be an able man in this his lay profession, seldom brought his arguments 
 to bear upon his Lordship ; who having the advantage in quickness of intellect, 
 and often in the clearness of his logic, would frequently put Dr. Kennedy's 
 ideas in disorder by a single vigorous onset. Lord Byron shewed a most 
 remarkable acquaintance with the Bible, and by his quotations, aptly applied to 
 the question in dispute, very often brought his antagonist to a stand ; when, 
 turning down the page, for he generally brought a little library of theology to 
 the contest, he would promise to return to the next meeting with a full and 
 satisfactory answer to the argument. The disputes chiefly turned upon the 
 questions which are agitated between the different sects of Christians in 
 England ; and the audience do not seem to think, that the Doctor had the ad- 
 vantage ; he, however, flattered himself that he had made the desired im- 
 pression ; for we are informed that he afterwards made particular inquiries of 
 his Lordship's suite, into any change that might have taken place in his an- 
 tagonist's manner of thinking and acting after he had left Cephalonia. It has 
 been said, maliciously, we think, that Lord Byron merely entered into these dis- 
 cussions, in order to master the cunl of this religious sect, as it was his intention 
 in some future Canto to make Don Juan a Methodist. This is a very gra- 
 tuitous supposition. Lord Byron had, when not irritated, the most courteous 
 and affable manners ; he carried himself towards all who had access to him with 
 
 2q
 
 306 APPENDIX. 
 
 the most scrupulous delicacy, and it was quite sufficient for Dr. Kennedy to 
 desire these interviews, to procure them. 
 
 Although some ludicrous scenes occurred, the admonitory party was treated 
 with the utmost kindness, and full credit given to him for the purity of his 
 intentions. 
 
 The two friends whom Lord Byron had despatched to the Government 
 proceeded to the Morea, and crossed the country to Tripolitza, from which 
 place it appeared that the two assemblies had removed to Salamis. At Tri- 
 politza, however, they had an opportunity of seeing Colocotronis, some of the 
 other distinguished chiefs, as well as the confidential officers of Mavrocordatos' 
 suite, whom he had left behind him in his precipitate retreat from the chair of 
 the legislative assembly. Here, consequently, they were able to collect a con- 
 siderable quantity of information, and procure answers to the questions with 
 which Lord Byron had charged them ; after doing which, they proceeded 
 onwards to the place where the assembly was collecting. The queries are of a 
 very searching and judicious nature, and like the other extracts which we shall 
 have to make from his correspondence, prove the aptitude of his intellect and 
 the benevolence of his designs ; the answers to them, collected with considerable 
 care and discrimination, were complete enough to afford a very accurate idea of 
 the state, resources, and intentions of the country. From the letters also he 
 would be able to form a good idea of the contending factions, and the men who 
 headed them : Colocotronis was found to be in great power ; his palace was 
 filled with armed men, like the castle of some ancient feudal chief, and a good 
 idea of his character may be formed from the language he held. He declared, 
 that he had told Mavrocordatos, that unless he desisted from his intrigues, he 
 would put him on an ass and whip him out of the Morea; and that he had only 
 been witlilield from doing it by the representations of his friends, who had said 
 that it would injure the cause. He declared his readiness to submit to a de- 
 mocratic government if regularly constituted ; but swore that he and the other 
 chiefs and their followers would shed the last drop of their blood, rather than 
 submit to the intrigues of a foreigner. He himself at that time intended to 
 proceed to the Congress at Salamis to settle the affairs of the country, and he 
 invited Lord Byron and all the other British Phillhellenes to communicate with 
 the general Government, and to send their s\iccours to them alone. His sen- 
 timents were shared by the other chiefs, and tiie name of Mavrocordatos was 
 never mentioned with respect in the Peloponnesus, where it seemed lie had
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 307 
 
 lost all influence. His influence reigned in another quarter, and for that 
 reason his suite were very sohcitous that Lord Byron's friends should proceed 
 to Hydra, instead of to Salaniis, and exjiressed a hope that Lord Byron himself 
 would act in the diff'erence between the Prince and Colocotronis, not as a sim- 
 ple mediator, but in a decisive manner, " avec uiie main defer,'''' as they were 
 convinced that the former character would be useless. 
 
 The Congress met at Salamis to deliberate on the most important questions — 
 the form of the government, and the measures of the future campaign. The 
 legislative assembly consisted of fifty, and the executive of five. Every thing is 
 described as wearing the appearance of reality — the chiefs and people acknow- 
 ledging and, as far as strangers could judge, obeying the Government and its 
 decrees. They received the agents of Lord Byron in the most friendly manner, 
 and opened every thing to them without reserve — and enabled them to convey 
 to him a very instructive account of the real state of affairs. Ulysses, (Odys- 
 seus) a brave and dexterous mountain-chief of great power and consummate 
 military skill at that time, and still in command of Athens, was about to lead 
 5000 Albanians into Negropont, whither Mr. Trelawney agreed to accompany 
 him as his aide-de-camp, being promised any number of men he chose under 
 his command, and under the expectation of passing the winter there very 
 agreeably between Turk and woodcock shooting. Colocotronis and his son, 
 a fine, spirited young man, with all their forces, were to undertake the siege of 
 Patras. Tombasi, the admiral of Hydra, was in command at Candia, where 
 active warfare was expected. Staicos was to remain at Corinth, which 
 surrendered in October, very soon after the Congress. Marco Botzari's brother 
 with his Suliotes, and Mavrocordatos, were to take charge of Messolonghi, 
 which at that time (October 1823), was in a very critical state, being blockaded 
 both by land and sea. 
 
 " There have been," says Mr. Trelawney, " thirty battles fought and won by the 
 late Marco Botzari and his gallant tribe of Suliotes, who are shut up in Messolonghi. 
 If it fall, Athens will be in danger, and thousands of throats cut. A few thousand 
 dollars would provide ships to relieve it — a portion of this sum is raised" — and Mr. 
 Trelawney adds, in a spirit worthy of him and his deceased friend, " / mould coin my 
 heart to save this key of Greece !" 
 
 A report like this was sufficient to show the point where succour was most 
 needed ; and Lord Byron's determination to relieve Messolonghi was still more 
 decidedly confirmed by a letter which he received from Mavrocordatos from 
 
 2 a 2
 
 30S APPENDIX. 
 
 Hydra (Oct. 21), in answer to one which his Lordship had addressed to him on 
 the subject of the dissensions which reigned in the Government, and the Prince's 
 desertion of his post. In this very able and creditable letter Mavrocordatos at- 
 tempts to set Lord Byron right with respect to the dissensions in the Morea, and 
 points out with great justice that though the Government may be divided, the 
 nation is not ; and that whatever at any time may have been the difference of 
 opinion, all parties have joined hand and heart, and fought to the last extremity 
 against the common enemy. He attributes such dissensions as do exist to the want 
 of money ; and jiredicts tlieir immediate disappearance when means are found to 
 pay the fleets and armies. He goes on to speak of Lord Byron's intentions : — 
 
 " I should do myself an injustice, my Lord, if I were not to sj)eak to you with the 
 frankness which you expect from me ; I cannot agree with you when you say your 
 best plan is to rest in observation. I will never advise you to run the risk of 
 appearing to embrace the interests of a party ; but all the world knows, and no one 
 better than myself, that you are come here with the firm intention of succouring 
 Greece — this Greece is now before you, under your eyes ; you may see at the first 
 glance which is the ])art in danger,— that Messolonghi is blockaded by land and 
 by sea, that it is destitute of provisions, and on the point of falling into the hands of 
 the Turks ; who afterwards will have no difficulty in penetrating into the Morea 
 and seizing upon its most fertile provinces, from whence it will be hard, nay, impos- 
 sible to dislodge them. To carry succour to this place, to save it, is to save Greece 
 itself. Is this declaring for a party ? Is it not rather to do that which the feelings of 
 honour and humanity dictate to us all .' Influenced by these and other reasons, I 
 never know when to leave off inviting you to come to the succour of Messolonghi." 
 
 At this time Mavrocordatos was endeavouring to collect a fleet for the relief 
 of Messolonghi. Lord Byron's intentions, under the circumstances to which 
 this letter alludes, may be seen from the following extract of a letter from 
 him, dated the 29th Oct. 18.3. 
 
 "Corinth is taken — and a Turkish squadron is said to be beaten in the Archipelago 
 
 the public progress of the Greeks is considerable — but tlieir internal dissensions 
 
 still continue. On arriving at the seat of Government I shall endeavour to mitigate 
 or extinguish them— though neither is an easy task. I have reniained liere partly in 
 expectation of the squadron in relief of Messolonghi, partly of ftlr. Parry's detach- 
 ment, and partly to receive from Malta or Zante the sum of four hundred thousand 
 piastres, which, at the desire of the Greek Government, I have advanced for the pay- 
 ment of the expected squadron. The BiUs are negociating, and \\ ill be cashed in a 
 short time, as they could liave been immediately in any other mart, but the miserable
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 
 
 309 
 
 Ionian merchants have little money and no great credit, and are besides politically shy 
 
 on this occasion, for although I had the letters of , one of the strongest 
 
 houses of the Mediterranean, also of , there is no business to be done on 
 
 fair terms exce])t through Eiiglish merchants ; these, however, have proved both 
 able, and willing, and upright, as usual." He continues — 
 
 " It is my intention to proceed by sea, to Nauplia di Romania, as soon as I have 
 managed this business — I mean the advance of the 40(),0()0 piastres for the fleet. 
 My time here has not been entirely lost; indeed you will perceive by some former 
 documents that any advantage from my then proceeding to the Morea was doubtful. 
 We have at last named the Deputies, and I have written a strong remonstrance 
 on their divisions to Mavrocordatos, which I understand was forwarded to the 
 legislative body by the Priuee." 
 
 He did not, however, depart for the Government at the time he had expected, 
 and conceived it necessary to address the Government again on the subject of 
 their dissensions. The following extract is a translation of the concluding 
 part of tiiis very admirable letter: 
 
 " The affair of the Loan, — the expectation, so long and vainly indulged, of the 
 arrival of the Greek fleet, and the dangers to which IMessolonghi is still exposed, 
 have detained me here, and will still detain me till some of them are removed. 
 But when the money shall be advanced for the fleet, I will start for the Morea, 
 not knowing, however, of what use my presence can be in the present state of things. 
 We have heard some rumours of new dissensions — nay, of the existence of a civil 
 war. With all my heart I desire that these reports may be false or exaggerated, 
 for I can imagine no calamity more serious than this ; and I must frankly confess, 
 that unless union and order are confirmed, all hopes of a loan will be vain, and 
 all the assistance which the Greeks could expect from abroad — an assistance which 
 might be neither trifling nor worthless — will be suspended or destroyed ; and 
 what is worse, the great powers of Europe, of whom no one was an enemy to 
 Greece, but seemed inclined to favour her in consenting to the establishment of an 
 independent power, will be persuaded that the Greeks are unable to govern them- 
 selves, and will perhaps themselves undertake to arrange vour disorders in such a way 
 as to blast the brightest hopes you indulge, and which are indulged by your friends. 
 
 " And allow me to add, once for all, I desire the well-being of Greece and 
 nothing else ; I will do all I can to secure it ; but I cannot consent — I never 
 will consent, to the English public, or English individuals, being deceived as to 
 the real state of Greek affairs. The rest, gentlemen, depends on you— you have 
 fought gloriously — act honourably towards your fellow-citizens and towards the 
 ■norld; and then it will be no more said, as has been repeated for 2,000 years with
 
 310 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 the Roman liistoriun, that Philopoemen was the last of the Grecians. Let not 
 calumny itself (and it is difficult to guard against it in so difficult a struggle) 
 compare the Turkish Pasha with the patriot Greek in peace, after you have exter- 
 minated him in war. 
 
 " 30th Nov. 1823. N. B." 
 
 In another letter, written a few days after this, we find a circumstance 
 mentioned whicli probably turned his views from the Morea to Western 
 Greece. It must be remembered that the Suliotes were his old favourites, 
 and that their late bravery had raised them still higher in his estimation. 
 
 " The Suliotes (now in Acarnania) are very anxious that I should take them under 
 my direction, and go over and put Ihiiigs to rights in the Morea, which without 
 a force seems impracticable ; and really though very reluctant, as my letters wiU have 
 shown you, to take such a measure, there seems hardly any milder remedy. How- 
 ever, I will not do any thing rashly, and have only continued here so long in the 
 hope of seeing things reconciled, and have done all in my power there-for. Had I 
 gone sooner they would have forced me into one party or the other, and I doubt as 
 much now. But we will do our best. Dec. 7- 1823." 
 
 His Lordship seems to iiave been too sensitive on this point, and, as we 
 think, attached too great an importance to these dissensions. We may quote 
 against him a sentence from a letter of one of his intimate friends. 
 
 " I am convinced if they (the Greeks) succeed in getting the loan, the liberty of 
 Greece will be definitively founded on a firm basis. True, there is much difference of 
 opinion existing amongst the people in authority here, as well as in every other 
 country, and some little squabbling for place and power, but they all unite against 
 the common enemy. Love of liberty and execration of tlieir barbarous oppressors 
 actuate them. What they want, to ensure success and consolidate the Government 
 is, money — money — money." 
 
 Lord Byron in his correspondence, however, continues to allude to these 
 unfortunate differences, and is pleasant upon the gasconading whicli dis- 
 tinguishes the Greek of this day as it did the Greek of the age of Cleon. 
 
 " C will tell you the recent special interposition of the Gods in behalf of the 
 
 Greeks, who seem to have no enemies in heaven or earth to be dreaded but their 
 own tendency to discord among themselves. But these too, it is to be lioped, wiU be 
 mitigated ; and then we can take the field on the offensive, instead of being reduced 
 to the ' petite guerre' of defending the same fortresses year after year, and taking a 
 few sliips, and starving out a castle, and making more fuss about them than 
 Alexander in his cups, or Buonaparte in a bulletin. Our friends have done some-
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 31 J 
 
 thing in the way of tlie Spartans, but they have not inherited their style. 
 Dec. 10, 1«23." 
 
 Soon after the date of this letter the lonof desired squadron arrived in 
 the waters of Messolonghi ; and in a letter written three days after the date 
 of the last, (Dec. 13th.) his Lordship says, 
 
 " I momentarily expect advices from Prince Ma\TOcordatos, who is on board, and 
 has (I understand) despatches from the legislative to me ; in consequence of which, 
 after paying the squadron, I shall probably join him at sea or on shore." 
 
 In the same light and agreeable manner in which he touches upon every sub- 
 ject, he proceeds to speak of the committee supplies, which had been sent out 
 to him as its agent; an office which he had taken upon himself with great 
 readiness, and executed with considerable judgment and discrimination. 
 
 " The mathematical, medical, and musical preparations of the Committee have 
 arrived in good condition, abating some damage from wet, and some ditto from a 
 portion of the letter-press being spilt in landing'(I ought not to have omitted the 
 press, but forgot it at the moment — excuse the same) ; they are pronounced excellent 
 of their kind, but till we have an engineer, and a trumpeter (we have chirurgeons 
 already), mere ' pearls to swine,' as the Greeks are ignorant of mathematics, and have 
 a bad ear for our music ; the maps, &c. I will put into use for them, and take care 
 that all (with proper caution) are turned tp the intended uses of the Committee." 
 
 He speaks again of the supplies, however, with more pleasantry than fore- 
 sight ; for the very articles which he seems to have thouglit thrown away, proved 
 of remarkable service, more particularly the trumpets. The Turks are so ap- 
 prehensive of the skill and well directed valour of the Franks, that even the 
 supposed presence of a body of such troops, is sufficient to inspire a panic. 
 The Greeks, aware of this, have frequently put their enemy in disorder by 
 .sounding these same despised bugles. The Greeks know this weak side of 
 the Turks so well, that they sometimes consider a collection of old European 
 hats a piece of ammunition more effectual than much heavier artillery. 
 The sight of a hat, if well-cocked, in the occidental fashion, espied among 
 the Greek forces, is often as terrific as the sound of a trumpet. 
 
 " The supplies of the committee are very useful, and all excellent in their kind, 
 but occasionally hardly practical enough in the present state of Greece; for instance, 
 the mathematical instrument.5 are thrown away ; none of the Greeks know a problem 
 from a poker — we must conquer first, and plan afterwards. The use of the trumpets, 
 too, may be doubted, unless Constantinople were Jericho ; for the Hellenists have no 
 ears for bugles, and you must send somebody to listen to them." He goes on, " We
 
 312 APPENDIX. 
 
 will do our best ; and I pray you to stir your English hearts at home to more general 
 exertion ; for my part I will stick by the cause while a plank remains which can be 
 honourably clung to — if I quit it, it will be by the Greeks' conduct — and not the 
 Holy Allies, or the holier Mussulmans." 
 
 This determination never to desert the Greeks, as long as he could be of any 
 service to them, is repeatedly expressed in his correspondence. He concludes 
 a letter to his banker, in Cephalonia, on business, with this sentence, " I hope 
 things here will go well, some time or other — I will stick by the cause as long 
 as a cause exists, first or second.''^ 
 
 Lord Byron had the more merit in tlic zeal and energy with which he es- 
 poused the interests of the Hellenic cause, for he had not suffered himself to 
 be disgusted by the real state of things, when stripped of their romance by 
 actual experience ; and he was too wise to be led away by a blind enthusiasm. 
 He seems to have been actuated, in the main, for we must not expect perfec- 
 tion either in Lord Byron or the Greeks, by a steady desire to benefit a people 
 who deserved the assistance and sympathy of every lover of freedom and the 
 improvement of mankind. He speaks to this point himself ; and here we may 
 remark, as in almost every line he ever wrote, the total absence of cant, — which 
 unfortunately colours the writings and conversations of almost every man who 
 imagines himself to live in the eye of the world. 
 
 " I am happy to say that • and myself are acting in perfect harmony 
 
 together : he is likely to be of great service botli to the cause and to the Com- 
 mittee, and is publicly as well as personally, a very valuable acquisition to our 
 party, on every account. He came up (as they all do who have not been iu 
 the country before) with some high-flown notions of tlie 6th form at Harrow 
 
 and Eton, &c. ; but Col. and I set him to rights on those points, which was 
 
 absolutely necessary to ])revent disgust, or perhajis return — but now we can set our 
 shoulders soberly to the wheel, without quarrelling with the mud wliich may clog 
 
 it occasionally. I can assure you that Col. and myself are as decided for the 
 
 cause as any German student of them all- — but, like men who have seen the country 
 and human life, there and elsewhere, we mu.st be permitted to view it in its truth — 
 with its defects as well as beauties, more especially as success will remove the former 
 —gradually.— {Bee. 26, 1823.)" 
 
 Lord Byron had by tills time yielded to tlie solicitations of Mavrocordatos, 
 who repeatedly urged him in the most pressing manner to cross over to Messo- 
 longhi, and who offered to send, and did send, ship after ship to Cephalonia, 
 to bring him over. He seems to have been chiefly delayed by the difficulty in
 
 LORD BYRONS RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 313 
 
 procuring money for his Italian bills. His anxiety to procure supplies is a 
 constant subject of his correspondence. 
 
 " I liave written/' he says, in a letter dated 13th Oct. 1823, " to our friend Douglas 
 Kinnaird, on my own matters, desiring him to send me out all the further credits he can 
 command (and I have a year's income and the sale of a manor besides, he tells me, 
 before me) ; for till the Greeks get their loan, it is probable I shall have to stand partly 
 pa)-master, as far as I am ' good upon 'Change,' that is to say. — I pray you to repeat as 
 much to him; and say that I must in the interim di-aw on Messrs. R most formi- 
 dably — to say the truth, I do not grudge it, now the fellows have begun to tight again : 
 and still more welcome shall they be, if they will go on — but they have had, or are to 
 have four thousand pounds (besides some private extraordinaries for widows, orphans, 
 refugees, and rascals of all descriptions) of mine at one ' swoop,' and it is to be ex- 
 pected the next will be at least as much more, and \w\v can I refuse if they will 
 fight? and especially if I should happen to be in their company? I therefore 
 request and require, that you should apprize my trusty and trustworthy trustee 
 and banker, and crown and sheet anchor, Douglas Kinnaird the honourable, that 
 he prepare all monies of mine, including the purchase money of Rochdale manor, 
 and mine income for the year a. d. 1824, to answer and anticipate any orders, or 
 drafts of mine, for the good cause, in good and lawful money of Great Britain, 
 &c. &c. &c. May you live a thousand years ! which is 999 longer than the Spanish 
 Cortes' Constitution." 
 
 When the supplies were procured, and his other preparations made for 
 departure, two Ionian vessels were hired, and embarking his horses and effects, 
 his Lordship sailed from Argostoli on the 29th of December. Anchoring at 
 Zante the same evening, the whole of the following day was occupied in making 
 
 his pecuniary arrangements with Mr. , and after receiving a quantity of 
 
 specie on board, he proceeded towards Messolonghi. Two accidents occurred 
 on this short passage, which might have been attended with very serious con- 
 sequences. Count Gamba, an intimate friend who had accompanied his Lord- 
 ship from Leghorn, had been charged with the vessel in which tlie horses and 
 part of the money were embarked ; when off Chiarenza, a point which lies 
 between Zante and the place of their destination, they were surprised at day- 
 hght on finding themselves under the bows of a Turkish frigate. Owing, 
 however, to the activity displayed on board Lord Byron's vessel, and her 
 superior saihng, she escaped, while the second was fired at, brought to, and 
 carried into Patras. Gamba and his companions, being taken before Yusuff 
 
 2 R
 
 314 APPENDIX. 
 
 Pasha, fully expected to share the fate of the unfortunate men whom that 
 sanguinary chief sacrificed last year at Prevesa, tiiough also taken under the 
 Ionian flag ; and their fears would most probably have been realized, had it 
 not been for the presence of mind displayed by the Count. Aware that nothing 
 but stratagem and effrontery could save him, he no sooner saw himself in 
 the Pasha's power, than assuming an air of hauteur and indifference, he 
 accused the captain of the frigate of a scandalous breach of neutrality, in 
 firing at and detaining a vessel under English colours, and concluded by inform- 
 ing Yusuff", that he miglit expect the vengeance of the British Government in 
 thus interrupting a nobleman who was merely on his travels, and bound to 
 Calamos ! * Whether the Turkish chief believed Gamba's story, or being 
 aware of the real state of the case, did not wish to proceed to extremities, he 
 not only consented to the vessel's release, but treated the whole party with the 
 utmost attention, and even urged them to take a day's shooting in the neigh- 
 bourhood. Count Gamba gladly availed liiniself of these unexpected hospi- 
 talities, and sailing the next day, passed over to Messolonghi, where, to his 
 great surprise. Lord Byron had not yet aiTived. 
 
 Owing to the wind's becoming contrary. Lord Byron's vessel took shelter at 
 the Scrofes, a cluster of rocks within a few miles of Messolonghi ; but as this 
 place afforded no means of defence in the event of an attack, it was thought 
 adviseable to remove to Dagromestre, where every preparation in their power 
 was made, should any of the enemy's ships pursue them. 
 
 Having remained three days at Dagromestre, the wind came round and 
 allowed his Lordship once more to set sail. On hearing what had happened, 
 
 * The treatment of Gamba and the crew, while on board tlie Turkish ship of war, was 
 scarcely less courteous than that whicli they experienced on landing. This arose from a 
 very singular coincidence. On their first mounting the frigate's deck, the captain gave 
 orders to put them all in irons, and might have proceeded to further extremities, when the 
 master of the vessel went up to him, and asked " whether he did not recollect Spiro, who 
 had saved his life in the Black Sea fifteen years before.''" Upon which the Turk, looking 
 stedfastly at him for a few moments, exclaimed — "what! can it be Spiro.'" and springing 
 forward, embraced his former deliverer with the greatest transport. This unlooked-for 
 reception was followed by a promise that every effort would be made to obtain his speedy 
 liberation on their arrival at Patras.
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 
 
 315 
 
 Pi-ince Mavrocordatos despatched a gun-boat to accompany his Lordship's 
 vessel ; while a portion of the Greek squadron, stationed at Messolonghi, were 
 also ordered to cruize in the offing, and prevent the Turkish vessels from 
 approaching the coast. One of these coming up, the captain sent a boat on 
 board, inviting his Lordship to make the remainder of his voyage on board of 
 his ship ; this offer was, however, declined. As if the whole voyage was 
 destined to be ominous of some future calamity, the vessel had not proceeded 
 many miles before she grounded on a shoal near the Scrofes, and would pro- 
 bably have remained there, had it not been for the activity of his I^ordship's 
 attendants, who jumped into the water and assisted to push the vessel off; 
 whilst their master urged the captain and crew to exert themselves, instead of 
 invoking the Saints, as is customary with Greek sailors on such occasions.* 
 As the wind continued to blow directly against their getting to Messolonghi, 
 the vessel was again anchored between two of the numerous islets which line 
 this part of the coast. Several gun-boats having arrived early the following 
 morning, despatched from Messolonghi to accompany his Lordship, and assist 
 him if required ; the vessel accordingly sailed, but was forced to anchor in the 
 evening, nor did she reach the town before the following day. 
 
 We can, however, give Lord Byron's account of his situation on the Scrofes, 
 which we find in a hasty letter written on board the Cephaloniote vessel in 
 whicii he sailed from Ai-gostoli. 
 
 " We are just arrived here (the letter is dated 31st Dec. 182.3), that is, part of my 
 
 * His Lordship is described by liis physician as conducting himself with admirable cool- 
 ness. We will give the anecdote in his own words : " Ma nel di lui passaggio marittimo una 
 fregata Turca insegui la di lui nave, obligandola di ricoverarsi dentro le ScrofeJ!, dove per 
 I'impeto dei venti fu gettata sopra i scogli : tutti i marinari e' I'equipaggio saltarono a terra 
 per salvare la loro vita : Milord solo col di lui Medico Dottr. Bruno riniasero suUa nave che 
 ognuno vedeva colare a fondo : ma dopo qualche tempo non essendosi visto che cio avveniva, 
 le persone fuggite a terra respinsero la nave nell' acque : ma il tempestoso mare la ribasto 
 una secondo volta contro i scogli, ed allora si aveva per certo che la nave coU' illustre per- 
 sonaggio, una gran quantita di denari, c molti preziosi eflfetti per i Greoi anderebbero a 
 fondo : Tuttavia Lord Byron non si perturbo per nuUa, anzi disse al di lui medico che voleva 
 gettarsi al nuoto onde raggiongere la spiaggia : ' non abbandonate la nave finchc abbiamo 
 Corze per direggeria ; allorche saremo copcrti dall' ac^jue, allora gettatevi pure, che io vi salvo.' "
 
 316 APPENDIX. 
 
 people and I, with some things, &c., and whicli it may be as well not to specify in 
 a letter (which has a risk of being intercepted) : but Gamba, and my horses, negro, 
 steward, and the press and all the committee things — also some eight thousand 
 dollars of mine (but never mind, we have more left — do you understand ?) * are taken 
 by the Turkish frigate — and my party and myself in another boat, have had a narrow 
 escape last night (being close under their stern and hailed, but we would not answer 
 and hove away) as well as this morning. Here we are with snow and blowing 
 weather, within a pretty little port enough ; but whether our Turkish friends may 
 not send in their boats and take us out (for we have no arms except two carbines and 
 some pistols — and — I suspect — not more than four lighting people (m board), is 
 another question — especially if we remain long here — since we are blockaded out of 
 Messolonglii by the direct entrance. You had better send my friend George Drako, 
 and a body of Suliotes to escort us by land or by the canals, with all convenient 
 speed. Gamba and all on board are taken into Patras, I suppose — and we must have 
 a turn at the Turks to get them out ; but where the devil is the fleet gone .'' the 
 Greek I mean, leaving us to get in without the least intimation to take heed that the 
 I\Ioslems were out again. Make my respects to Mavrocordatos and say, tliat I am 
 here at his disposal. I am uneasy at being here, not so much on my own account, as 
 on that of the Greek boy with me — -for you know what his fate would be — and I 
 would sooner cut him in pieces and myself, than have him taken out by those 
 barbarians." 
 
 Lord Byron was received at Messolonglii with the most enthusiastic demon- 
 strations of joy: no mark of honour or welcome which the Greeks could devise 
 was omitted. The ships anchored off the fortress fired a salute as he passed. 
 Prince Mavrocordatos and all the authorities, with all the troops and the 
 population collected together, met him on his landing, and accompanied him to 
 the house which had been prepared for him, amidst the shouts of the multi- 
 tude and the discharge of cannon. Nothing could exceed the eagerness with 
 which he had been expected, except the satisfaction which was displayed on 
 his arrival. 
 
 One of the first objects to which Lord Byron naturally turned his attention 
 was to mitigate the ferocity with which the war had been carried on. This 
 ferocity, not only excusable in the first instance, but absolutely necessary and 
 
 * He wished to convey that he had these 8000 dollars wHIi htm in his present awkward 
 situation.
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 
 
 317 
 
 unavoidable, liad now in a great measure effected its ohject. Tlie Greeks 
 were by this time in a condition to be merciful; and Lord Byron in the most 
 judicious manner set about producing an improvement in the system of warfare 
 on both sides. 
 
 The very first day of his Lordship's arrival was signalized by his rescuing a 
 Turk, who had fallen into the hands of some Greek sailors. The individual 
 thus saved, having been clothed by his orders, was kept in the house until an 
 opportunity occurred of sending him to Patras.* 
 
 His Lordship had not been long at Messolonghi, before an opportunity 
 presented itself for showing his sense of V usuff Pasha's moderation in releas- 
 ing Count Gamba. Hearing that there were four Turkish prisoners in the 
 town, he requested that Prince Mavrocordatos would place them in his hands ; 
 this being immediately granted, they were sent to the castle of the Morea, 
 near Patras, with the following letter addressed to the Turkish chief; 
 
 " Highness ! — A vessel in which a friend and some domestics of mine were em- 
 barked, was detained a few days ago, and released by order of your Highness. I have 
 now to thank you, not for liberating the vessel, which, as carrying a neutral flag, 
 
 *■ Inseguendo un giorno un corsaro Greco, una nave carica di Turchi, imo di essi nell' 
 affrettarsi ad accomodare una vela per fuggire piu presto, cadde in mare, e g-li riusci di 
 portarsi a terra nuotando, ma due soldati Greci lo inseg-uivano per ammazzarlo ; la fortuna 
 voile che il Turco fugg-isse appunto nella casa d'abitazinne di Milord, il quale lo accolse 
 subito, e lo nascose : giunti i due soldati Greci, chiedono furibondi coll' armi alia mano e 
 colle minaccie la restituzione della loro preda che volevano sacrificare ; Milord gli offre qual 
 somma volessero per riscattare il Turco ; ma i due soldati iiisistono, colle arnii in atto di 
 ferire, a voler il prigioniero per ammazzarlo ; allora MUord rispose, giacche e cosi, me 
 piuttosto amuiazzerete che quel povero infelice perisca ! Barbari che siete, e questo 
 I'esempio che date di essere Christian! come voi dite .'' Ola fuggite dalla mia presenza, se non 
 volete che vi fac<:ia pjigar caro il iio della vostra barbarie. — Lo tenne seco nascosto per al- 
 (juanti giorni : lo fece curare dal suo medico d'una malattia che la paura gli aveva cagionato, 
 e poi caricatolo di doni, lo mando a Patrasso in seno della sua faniiglia. Aveva MUord pure 
 raccolto in Messohmghi una donna Turca coUa di lei figlia, che dall' apice de la fortuna si 
 trovavano nella piu grande miseria. Fece dei ricchissimi doni alia figlia ancor bambina, ed 
 aveva divisato di mandarla educare in Italia, il che si effettuava anche dopo la di lui morte ; 
 ma la madre e figlia Tui-che giunte a Zante volevano per forza andare a Prevesa, dicendo, che 
 ■Hccome avevano perduto in Milord il loro padre, mletmno ritirarsi nel lor natiw paese, e pian- 
 gerne eoli't per semprr la perditn. — Dr. Bruno.
 
 318 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 and being lunler British protection, no one had a right to detain, but for having 
 treated my friends with so much kindness while they were in your hands. 
 
 " In tlie hope, therefore, that it may not be altogether displeasing to your High- 
 ness, I have requested the Governor of this place to release four Turkish prisoners, 
 and he has humanely consented to do so. I lose no time, therefore, in sending them 
 back, in order to make as early a return as I could for your courtesy on the late 
 occasion. These prisoners are liberated without any conditions ; but, should the 
 circumstance find a place in your recollection, I venture to beg, that your Highness 
 will treat such Greeks as may henceforth fall into your hands with humanity, more 
 especially since the horrors of war are sufficiently great in themselves, without being 
 aggravated by wanton cruelties on either side. 
 
 " Messolovghi, 23 Januari), 1824." " NOEL BYRON." 
 
 The above act was followed by another not less entitled to praise, while it 
 proves how anxious his Lordship felt to give a new turn to the system of 
 warfare hitherto pursued. A Greek cruizer having captured a Turkish boat, 
 in which there were a number of passengers, chiefly women and children, they 
 were also placed in the hands of Lord Byron, at his particular request : upon 
 which a vessel was immediately hired, and the whole of them, to the number 
 of twenty-four, sent to Prevesa, provided with every requisite for their comfort 
 during the passage. The letter which accompanied these poor people was 
 answered by the Enghsh Consul Mr. Meyer, who thanked his Lordship in the 
 name of Beker Aga the Turkish Governor of that place, and concluded by an 
 assurance that he would take care equal attention should be in future shown 
 to the Greeks who became prisoners. 
 
 Another grand object with Lord Byron, and one which he never ceased to 
 forward with the most anxious solicitude, was to reconcile the quarrels of the 
 native Chiefs, to make them friendly and confiding to one another, and sub- 
 missive to the orders of the Government. He had neither time nor much 
 opportunity before his decease to carry this point to any great extent ; much 
 good was however done ; and if we may judge from a few observations we find 
 respecting the treatment of Sisseni, a fractious chief of Gastouni, we may be 
 certain that it was done with a wise and healing hand. 
 
 " If Sisseni is sincere, he will be treated with, and wi-ll treated : if he is not, the 
 sin and the shame may lie at Ms own door. One great object is, to heal these inter-
 
 LORD BYRON' S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 3 19 
 
 nal dissensions for the Juliin; without exacting a too rigorous account of the past. 
 The Prince Mavrocordatos is of the same opinion, and whoever is disposed to act 
 fairly will he fairly dealt with. I have heard a good deal of Sisseni, but not a deal of 
 sood. However, I never judge by report, particularly in a revolution : personully I 
 am rather obliged to him, for he has been very hospitable to all friends of mine who 
 have passed through his district. You may tlierefore answer him, that any overtures 
 for the advantai^e of Greece and its internal pacification will be readily and sin- 
 cerely met here. I hardly think lie would have ventured a deceitful proposition to me 
 through you, because he must be sure that in such case it would be eventually ex- 
 posed. At any rate, the healing of these dissensions is so important a point, that 
 something must be risked to obtain it." 
 
 Sisseni is the Cupitam of the rich and fertile plain of Gastouni, who at first 
 paid but a very uncertain obedience to the Government ; but now, observing 
 its increase in power and apparent security, had begun to make overtures for a 
 regular submission to its decrees. The manners of all these oligarchs of the 
 Morea, like those of Sisseni, arc Turkish : they live surrounded by a mixture 
 of splendour and misery, with a sort of court like those of other petty 
 monarchs, filled with soldiers, harlots, and buffoons. 
 
 Mavrocordatos in his invitations to Lord Byron had dwelt on the impor- 
 tance of his Lordship's presence at Messolonghi, and had no doubt fired his 
 imagination by the anticipations of success, and the scenes of brilliant achieve- 
 mem which he laid before him. " Soyez persuade. Milord," he says, among 
 much of the same kind, " qu'il ne dependra que de vous, d'assurer le sort de 
 la Gr^ce. Lepante et Patras, cernes par terre et par mer, ne tarderont pas de 
 capituler ; et maitres de ces deux places, nous pouvons former des projets de 
 Toccupation de Thessalie !" Accordingly, Lord Byron landed at Messolonghi, 
 animated with military ardour, and became, as one of the letters from the 
 place, dated soon after his landing, expresses it, soldier-mad. After paying 
 the fleet, which indeed had only come out under the expectation of receiving 
 its arrears from the loan which he promised to make to the Provisional Govern- 
 ment, he set about forming a brigade of Suliotes. Five hundred of these, the 
 bravest and most resolute of the soldiers of Greece, were taken into his pay on 
 the 1st Jan. l»-24, and an object worthy of them and their leader was not 
 difficult to be found. 
 
 The castle of Lepanto, which commands the gulf of that name, was the only 
 fortress occupied by the Turks in Western Greece. Its position at the mouth
 
 320 APPENDIX. 
 
 of the gulf is one t)f great importance, and enables it to keep up a constant 
 communication with Patras ; and while this was the case, it was impossible to 
 reduce it in the ordinary mode of starvation. The garrison consisted of 500 
 Turks, and a considerable number of Albanians ; the soldiers were clamorous 
 for their pay, and much confusion was said to i-eign in the place. It was 
 understood that the Albanians would surrender on the approach of Lord 
 Byron, and on being paid their arrears, which amounted to 23,000 dollars. In 
 every point of view the place was of the highest importance, and the most 
 sanguine hopes were entertained that a vigorous attack upon it would prove 
 successful. Lord Byron was raised to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, and 
 spent his whole time in preparing for the expedition. It was first intended 
 that a body of 2 JOO men should form the main body, and that Lord Byron 
 should join them with his 600 Suliotes, and witli a corps of artillery under 
 Mr. Parry, which iiad been raised by the Greek Committee in London. At 
 the latter end of January, however. Lord Byron was appointed by the 
 Greek Government to the sole command of all the (3000) troops destined to 
 act against Lepanto. He mentions this circumstance himself : 
 
 " The expedition of about two thousand men is planned for an attack on Lepanto ; 
 and for reasons of policy with regard to the native Capitani, who would rather be 
 (nominally at least) under the command of a foreigner, tlian one of their oivn body, 
 the direction, it is said, is to be given to me. There is also another reason, which is, 
 that if a capitulation should take place, the Blussulmans might ])erhaps rather have 
 Christian faith with a Frank than with a Greek, and so be inclined to concede a, 
 point or two. These appear to be the most <ibvious motives for such an appointment, 
 as far as I can conjecture ; unless there be uiie reason more, viz. that under present 
 circumstances, no one else (not even Mavrocordatos himself) seems disposed to 
 accept such a nomination — and though my desires are as far as my deserts upon this 
 occasion, I do not decline it, being willing to do as I am bidden ; and as I pay a 
 considerable part of the clans, I may as well see what they are likely to do for their 
 money ; besides, I am tired of hearing nothing but talk." 
 
 He adds in a note, that Parry, who had been delayed, and had been long 
 eagerly ex])ected with liis artillery and stores, had not arrived ; and says, 
 " I presume from the retardment that he is the same Parry wlio attempted 
 the North Pole, and is (it may be suppo.sed) now essaying the South.'" 
 
 The expedition, liowevcr, had to experience delay and disappointment
 
 LORD BYRONS RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 321 
 
 from much more important causes than the non-appearance of the engineer. 
 The Suhotes, who conceived that they had found a patron whose weahh was 
 inexhaustible, and whose generosity was as boundless, determined to make 
 the most of the occasion, and proceeded to make the most extravagant 
 demands on their leader for arrears, and under other pretences. Suliotes, 
 untameable in the field, and equally unmanageable in a town, were at this 
 moment peculiarly disposed to be obstinate, riotous, and mercenary. They 
 had been chiefly instrumental in preserving Messolonghi when besieged the 
 previous autumn by the Turks, had been driven from their abodes, and the 
 whole of their families were at this time in the town destitute of either home or 
 sufficient supplies. Of turbulent and reckless character, they kept the place in 
 awe ; and Mavrocordatos having, unlike the other captains, no soldiers of his 
 own, was glad to find a liody of vaUant mercenaries, especially if paid for out 
 of the funds of another ; and, consequently, was not disposed to treat them 
 with harshness. Within a fortnight after Lord Byron's arrival, a burgher 
 refusing to quarter some Suliotes who rudely demanded entrance into his 
 house, was killed, and a riot ensued in which some lives were lost. Lord 
 Byron's impatient spirit could ill brook the delay of a favourite scheme, and 
 he saw, with the utmost chagrin, that the state of his favourite troops was 
 such as to render any attempt to lead them out at present impracticable. 
 
 The project of proceeding against Lepanto being thus suspended, at a 
 moment when Lord Bvron's enthusiasm was at its height, and when he had 
 fully calculated on striking a blow which could not fail to be of the utmost 
 service to the Greek cause, it is no wonder that the unlooked-for disappoint- 
 ment should have preyed on his spirits, and produced a degree of irritability, 
 which, if it was not the sole cause, contributed greatly to a severe fit of epi- 
 lepsy, with which he was attacked on the loth of February. His Lordship 
 was sitting in the apartment of Colonel Stanhope, (the active and enlightened 
 representative of the Greek Committee in Greece, who had gone out to co-ope- 
 rate with Lord Byron,) and was talking in a jocular manner with Mr. Parry 
 the engineer, when it was observed, from occasional and rapid changes in his 
 countenance, that he was suffering under some strong emotion. On a sudden 
 he complained of a weakness in one of his legs, and rose ; but finding himself 
 unable to walk, he cried out for assistance. He then fell into a state of 
 uervous and convulsive agitation, and was placed on a bed. For some minutes 
 
 2 s
 
 322 APPENDIX. 
 
 his countenance was much distorted. He however quickly recovered his 
 senses ; his speecli returned, and he soon appeared perfectly well, although 
 enfeebled and exhausted by the violence of the struggle. During the fit he 
 behaved with his usual remarkable firmness, and his efforts in contending with 
 and attempting to master the disease are described as gigantic. In the 
 course of the month the attack was repeated four times ; the violence of the 
 disorder at length yielded to the remedies which his physicians advised ; such 
 as bleeding, cold bathing, perfect relaxation of mind, &c., and he gi-adually 
 recovered. An accident, however, happened a few days after his first illness, 
 which was ill calculated to aid the efforts of his medical advisers. A Sullote, 
 accompanied by the late Marco Botzaris' little boy and another man, walked 
 into the Seraglio — a place which before Lord Byron's arrival had been used 
 as a sort of fortress and barrack for the Sidiotes, and out of which they 
 were ejected with great difficulty for the reception of the Committee stores, 
 and for the occupation of the engineers, who required it for a laboratory. 
 The sentinel on guard ordered the Suliotcs to retire ; which being a species of 
 motion to which Suliotes are not accustomed, the man carelessly advanced ; 
 upon which the sergeant of the guard (a German) demanded his business, and 
 receiving no satisfactory answer, pushed him back. These wild warriors, who 
 will dream for years of a blow if revenge is out of their power, are not slow to 
 follow up a push. The Suliote struck again — the sergeant and he closed and 
 struggled, when the SuUote drew a pistol from his belt. The sergeant wrench- 
 ed it out of his hand, and blew the powder out of the pan. At this moment 
 Captain Sass, a Swede, seeing the fray, came up and ordered the man to be 
 taken to the guardroom. The Sidiote was then disposed to depart ; and woidd 
 have done so if the sergeant would have permitted him. Unfortunately, Captain 
 Sass did not confine himself to merely giving the order for his arrest ; for when 
 the Suliote struggled to get away, Captain Sass drew his sword and struck him 
 with the flat part of it ; whereupon the enraged Greek flew upon him with a 
 pistol in one hand, and the sabre in the other; and at the same moment nearly 
 cut off" the captain's right arm, and shot him through the head with the pistol. 
 Captain Sass, who was remarkable for his mild and courageous character, ex- 
 pired in a few minutes. The Suliote also was a man of distinguished bravery. 
 This was a serious affair, and great apprehensions were entertained that it would 
 not end here. The Suliotes refused to surrender the man to justice, alleging
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 323 
 
 that he had been struck, which, in Suliote law, justifies all the consequences 
 which may follow. 
 
 In a letter dated a few days after Lord Byron's first attack, to a friend in 
 Zante, he speaks of himself as rapidly recovering : 
 
 " I am a good deal better, tho' of course weakly ; the leeches took too much blood 
 from my temples the day after, and there was some difficulty in stopping it ; but I 
 have been up daily, and out in boats or on horseback ; to-day I have taken a warni 
 bath, and live as temperately as well can be, without any liquid but water, and 
 without any animal food." He then adds, " besides the four Turks sent to Patras, I 
 have obtained the release of four-and-twenty women and children, and sent them to 
 Prevesa, that the English Consul-general may consign them to their relatives. I did 
 this at their own desire." After recurring to some other subjects, the letter con- 
 cludes thus : — " Matters are here a little embroiled with the Suliotes, foreigners, &c., 
 but I still hope better things, and \vill stand by the cause so long as my health and 
 circumstances will permit me to be supposed useful." 
 
 Notwithstanding Lord Byron's improvement in health, his friends felt from 
 the first that he ought to try a change of air. Messolonghi is a flat, marshy, 
 and pestilential place, and, except for purposes of utility, never would have 
 been selected for his residence. A gentleman of Zante wrote to him early in 
 March, to induce him to return to that Island for a time ; to his letter the 
 following answer was received on the 10th : 
 
 " I am extremely obliged by your offer of your country-house, as for aU other 
 kindness, in case my health should require my removal ; but I cannot quit Greece 
 while there is a chance of my being of (even supposed) utility. — there is a stake 
 worth millions such as I am, — and while I can stand at all, I must stand by the 
 cause. While I say this, I am aware of the difficulties, and dissensions, and defects, 
 of the Greeks themselves ; but allowance must be made for them by all reasonable 
 people." 
 
 It may well be supposed after so severe a fit of illness, and that in a great 
 measure superinduced by the conduct of the troops he had taken into his pay 
 and treated with the height of generosity, that he was in no humoui- to pursue 
 his scheme against Lepanto — supposing that his state of health had been such 
 as to bear the fatigue of a campaign in Greece. The Suliotes, however, 
 shewed some signs of repentance, and offered to place themselves at his Lord- 
 
 2 s 2
 
 324 APPENDIX. 
 
 ship's disposal. They had, however, another objection to the nature of tiie 
 service. In a letter which Colonel Stanhope wrote to Lord Byron on the 6th 
 of March, from Athens, he tells his Lordship that he had bivouacked on the 
 '21st of February in the hut of the Prefect of the Lepanto district, who had 
 just had a conference with the garrison of that place. This man said, that if 
 Lord Byron would march there with a considerable force, and the arrears due 
 to the troops, the fortress would be surrendered ; and Colonel S. adds a 
 pressing entreaty that Lord Byron would proceed there immediately, and take 
 advantage of this disposition on the part of the garrison. To this his Lord- 
 ship has appended this note: — " The Suliotes have declined marching against 
 Lepanto, saying, that ' they would not fight against stone walls.' Colonel S. 
 also knows their conduct here, in other respects lately." — We may conclude 
 that the expedition to Lepanto was not thought of after this time. 
 
 This same letter, which communicated to Lord Byron the facility with 
 which Lepanto might be taken, also announced the intention of Ulysses 
 (Odysseus) to summon a Congress of chiefs at Salona, to consider of a mode of 
 uniting more closely the interests of Eastern and Western Greece, and arrang- 
 ing between them some method of strict co-operation. The whole of these 
 two districts are subordinate to their respective governments, and as the 
 Turkish army was expected to come down, it was supposed by Odysseus that 
 some plan of acting in concert might be hit upon, which would not only enable 
 them to resist the enemy with greater effect, but likewise rapidly advance the 
 progress of civilization, and the authority of the government and constitution. 
 Odysseus, who had the most influence in Eastern Greece, and \\as able to col- 
 lect all the chiefs of his own district, was most desirous of prevailing upon 
 Mavrocordatos and Lord Byron, who were all-powerful in the opposite terri- 
 tory, to be present at this Congress, whic:h he ])roposed to hold at Salona, a 
 town nearly on the confines of the two departments. Two agents were sent 
 to persuade them to join in the design, and repair to Salona. Odysseus him- 
 self first despatched Mr. Finlay ; and after him Captain Humphries went over 
 to Messolonghi with all haste, by desire of Colonel Stanhope. The latter suc- 
 ceeded. Lord Byron, as may be supposed, was well disposed to the measure ; 
 but his consent was for some time held back by the Prince, who had reasons 
 for not approving the Congress. Mavrocordatos was always averse to meeting
 
 LORD BYRONS RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 325 
 
 Odysseus, a man of a very different character from himself: nor did he relish 
 the idea of Lord Byron's quitting the seat of his government. It was, how- 
 ever apparently settled that both should attend at Salona, as we learn from a 
 letter from his Lordship to Colonel Stanhope, at Athens, directly acceptmg 
 the invitation on the part of both; as well as from another, dated the 22nd 
 March, to his agent, of which the following is an extract :- 
 
 " In a few days P. Mavrocordatos and myself with a considerable escort, intend to 
 proceed to Salona at the request of Ulysses and the cluefs of Eastern Greece ; and 
 to take measures offensive and defensive for the ensuing campaign. ISIavrocordatoK 
 is almost recalled by the ,,ew Government to the Morea, (to take the lead I rather 
 think) and they have written to propose to me, to go either to the Morea with h.m 
 or to take the general direction of affairs in this quarter with General Londos, and 
 anv other I may choose to form a council. Andrea Londos is my old friend and 
 acquaintance since we were in Greece together. It would be difficult to give a 
 positive answer tiU the Salona meeting is over; but I am wiUmg to serve them m 
 any capacity they please, either commanding or commanded-it is much the same to 
 me as long as I can be of any presumed use to them. Excuse haste-.t is late- 
 and I have been several hours on horseback in a country so miry after the rams that 
 every hundred yards brings you to a brook or ditch, of whose depth, width, colour, 
 and contents, both my horses and their riders have brought away many tokens. 
 
 They did not, however, set out in a few days, as it seems to have been In- 
 tended In the Government, which since Lord Byron's arrival at Messolonghi 
 had been changed, the civil and island interest now greatly preponderated ; 
 and consequently by it a Congress of military chiefs was looked upon with 
 some iealousy, and most unjustly styled an unconstitutional measure. Mavro- 
 cordatos's views were now those of the Government ; so that m adchtion to his 
 private motives, he had also a public interest in withholding Lord Byron from 
 Salona Various pretexts were urged for delay ; among others, whether a true 
 or a pretended one is not exactly ascertained, a design of delivering up Messo 
 lon^hi to the Turks was alleged against the Suliotes. But at last came Lord 
 Byron's fatal illness, and all schemes of congresses and campa^ns were for a 
 tiL forgotten in the apprehensions entertained for his Ixfe, and m the subse- 
 quent lamentations over his death : the meeting took place at Salona, on the 
 16th of April. Mavrocordatos was not there ; and Lord Byron was on his 
 death-bed.
 
 326 APPENDIX. 
 
 Mr. FLETCHER'S ACCOUNT op LORD BYRON'S LAST MOMENTS. 
 
 The last mbments of great men have always been a subject of deep interest, 
 and are thought to be pregnant with instruction. Surely, if the death-bed of 
 any man will fix attention, it is that of one upon whose most trifling action the 
 eyes of all Europe have been fixed for ten years with an anxious and minute 
 curiosity, of which the annals of literature afford no previous example. We 
 a''e enabled to present our readers with a very detailed report of Lord Byron's 
 last illness. It is collected from the mouth of Mr. Fletcher, who has been for 
 more than twenty years his faithful and confidential attendant. It is very pos- 
 sible that the account may contain inaccuracies ; the agitation of the scene 
 may have created some confusion in the mind of an humble but an affectionate 
 friend : memory may, it is possible, in some trifling instances, have played him 
 false : and some of the thoughts may have been changed either in the sense or 
 in the expression, or by passing through the mind of an uneducated man. 
 But we are convinced of the general accuracy of the whole, and consider our- 
 selves very fortunate in being the means of preserving so afi'ecting and inter- 
 esting a history of the last days of the greatest and the truest poet that Eng- 
 land has for some time produced. 
 
 " My master," says Mr. Fletcher, " continued his usual custom of riding 
 daily when the weather would permit, until the 9th of April. But on that ill- 
 fated day he got very wet ; and on his return home his Loidship changed the 
 whole of his dress; bvit he had been too long in his wet clothes, and the cold, 
 of which he had complained more or less ever since we left Cephalonia, made 
 this attack be more severely felt. Though rather feverish during the night, 
 his Lordship slept pretty well, but complained in the morning of a pain in his 
 hemes and a bead-ache : this did not, however, prevent him from taking a ride 
 in the afternoon, wiiich I grieve to say was his last. On his return, my master 
 said that the saddle was not perfectly dry, from being so wet the day before, 
 and observed that he thought it had made him worse. His Lordship was 
 again visited by the same slow fever, and I was sorry to perceive, on the next 
 morning, that his ilhiess appeared to be increasing. He was very low, and 
 complained of not having had any sleep during the night. His Lordship's 
 appetite was also quite gone. I prepared a little arrow-root, of which he took 
 three or four spoonfuls, saying it was very goed, but could take no more. It
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 327 
 
 was not till the third day, the 12th, that I began to be alarmed for my master. 
 In all his former colds he always slept well, and was never affected by this 
 slow fever. I therefore went to Dr. Bruno and Mr. Millingen, the two medi- 
 cal attendants, and inquired minutely into every circumstance connected with 
 my master's present illness : both replied that there was no danger, and I 
 might make myself perfectly easy on the subject, for all would be well in a few 
 days.— This was on the 13th. On the following day I found my master in 
 such a state, that I could not feel happy without supplicating that he would 
 send to Zante for Dr. Thomas. After expressing my fears lest his Lordship 
 should get worse, he desired me to consult the doctors ; which I did, and was 
 told there was no occasion for calling in any person, as they hoped all would 
 be well in a few days.— Here I should remark, that his Lordship repeatedly 
 said, in the course of the day, he was sure the doctors did not understand his 
 disease ; to which I answered, ' Then, my Lord, have other advice by all 
 means.'—' They tell me,' said his Lordship, ' that it is only a common cold, 
 which, you know, I have had a thousand times.'—' I am sure, my Lord,' said 
 I, ' that you never had <me of so serious a nature.'—' I think I never had,' 
 was his Lordship's answer. I repeated my supplications that Dr. Thomas 
 should be sent for, on the 1 5th, and was again assured that my master would be 
 better in two or three days. After these confident assurances, I did not renew 
 my entreaties until it was too late. With respect to the medicines that were 
 given to my master, I could not persuade myself that those of a strong pur- 
 gative nature were the best adapted for his complaint, concluding that, as he 
 liad nothing on his stomp ch, the only effect would be to create pain : indeed 
 this must have been the case with a person in perfect health. The whole 
 nourishment taken by my master, for the last eight days, consisted of a small 
 quantity of broth at two or three diflFerent times, and two spoonfuls of arrow- 
 root on the 18th, the day before his death. The first time I heard of there 
 being any intention of bleeding his Lordship was on the 15th, when it was 
 proposed by Dr. Bruno, but objected to at first by my master, who asked Mr. 
 Millingen if there was any very great reason for taking blood ?— The latter 
 replied that it might be of service, but added that it could be deferred till the 
 next day ;— and accordingly my master was bled in the right arm, on the even- 
 ing of the 16th, and a pound of blood was taken. I observed at the time, 
 that it had a most inflamed appearance. Dr. Bruno now began to say he had
 
 ;328 APPENDIX. 
 
 frequently urged my master to be bled, but that he always refused. A hng 
 dispute now arose about the time that had been lost, and the necessity of send- 
 ing for medical assistance to Zante ; upon which I was informed, for the first 
 time, that it would be of no use, as my master would be better, or no more, 
 before the arrival of Dr. Thomas. His Lordship continued to get worse : but 
 Dr. Bruno said, he thought letting blood again would save his life ; and I lost 
 no time in telling my master how necessary it was to comply with the doctor's 
 wishes. To this he replied by saying, he feared they knew nothing about his 
 disorder ; and then, stretching out his arm, said, ' Here, take my arm, and do 
 whatever you like.' His Lordship continued to get weaker; and on the 17th he 
 was bled twice in the morning, and at two o'clock in the afternoon. The 
 bleeding at both times was followed by fainting fits, and he would have fallen 
 down more than once, had I not caught him in my arms. In order to prevent 
 such an accident, I took care not to let his Lordship stir without supporting 
 him. On this day my master said to me twice, ' I cannot sleep, and you well 
 know I have not been able to sleep for more than a week : I know,' added his 
 Lordship, ' that a man can only be a certain time without sleep, and then he 
 must go mad, without any one being able to save him ; and I would ten times 
 sooner shoot myself than be mad, for I am not afraid of dying, — I am more fit 
 to die than people think.' I do not, however, believe that his Lordship had 
 any apprehension of his fate till the day after, the 18th, when he said, ' I fear 
 you and Tila will be ill by sitting up constantly night and day.' I answered, 
 ' We shall never leave your Lordship till you are better.' As my master had 
 a slight fit of delirium on the 16th, I took care to remove the pistols and 
 stiletto, which had hitherto been kept at his bedside in the night. On the 18th 
 his Lordship addressed me frequently, and seemed to be very much dissatisfied 
 with his medical treatment. I then said, ' Do allow me to send for Dr. Tho- 
 mas ;' to which he answered, ' Do so, but be quick. I am sorry I did not let 
 you do so before, as I am sure they have mistaken my disease. Write yourself, 
 for I know they would not like to see other doctors here.' I did not lose a 
 moment in obeying my master's orders ; and on informing Dr. Bruno and Mr. 
 Millingen of it, they said it was very right, as they now began to be afraid 
 themselves. On returning to my master's room, his first words were, ' Have 
 you sent ?' — ' I have, my I>ord,' was my answer; upon which he said, ' You 
 have done right, for I should like to know what is the matter with me.'
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 329 
 
 Although his Lordship did not appear to think his dissolution was so near, 
 I could perceive he was getting weaker every hour, and lie even began to have 
 occasional fits of delirium. He afterwards said, ' I now begin to think I am 
 seriously ill ; and, in case I should be taken ofF suddenly, I wish to give you 
 several directions, which I hope you will be particular in seeing executed.' I 
 answered I would, in case such an event came to pass ; but expressed a hope 
 that he would live many years to execute them much better himself than I 
 could. To this my master replied, ' No, it is now nearly over ;' and then 
 added, ' I must tell you all without losing a moment ! ' I then said, ' Shall I 
 go, my Lord, and fetch pen, ink, and paper ?'-' Oh, my God ! no, you will 
 bse too much time, and I have it not to spare, for my time is now short,' said 
 his Lordship ; and immediately after, ' Now, pay attention.' His Lordship 
 commenced by saying, ' You will be provided for.' I begged him, however, 
 to proceed with things of more consequence. He then continued, ' Oh, my 
 poor dear child !— my dear Ada ! My God ! could I but have seen her ! 
 Give her my blessing— and my dear sister Augusta and her children ;— and 
 
 you will go to Lady Byron, and say tell her every thing ;-you are 
 
 friends with her.' His Lordship appeared to be greatly affected at this moment. 
 Here my master's voice failed him, so that I could only catch a word at inter- 
 vals ; but he kept muttering something very seriously for some time, and 
 would often raise his voice and say, ' Fletcher, now if you do not execute every 
 order which I have given you, I will torment you hereafter if possible.' Here 
 I told his Lordship, in a state of the greatest perplexity, that I had not under- 
 stood a word of what he said ; to which he replied, ' Oh, my God ! then aU is 
 lost, for it is now too late ! Can it be possible you have not understood me ?' 
 — ' No, my Lord,' said I ; ' but I pray you to try and inform me once more.' 
 _' How can I ?' rejoined my master ; ' it is now too late, and all is over !' I 
 said, ' Not our will, but God's be done !'— and he answered, ' Yes, not mine 
 
 be done— but I will try ' His Lordship did indeed make several efforts to 
 
 speak, but could only repeat two or three words at a time— such as, ' My wife ! 
 my child ! my sister !— you know all- you must say all— you know my wishes :' 
 the rest was quite unintelligible. A consultation was now held (about noon), 
 when it was determined to administer some Peruvian bark and wine. My 
 master had now been nine days without any sustenance whatever, except what 
 I have already mentioned. With the exception of a few words which can only 
 interest those to whom they were addressed, and which, if recpiirod, I shall 
 
 2 T
 
 330 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 communicate to themselves, it was impossible to understand anything his Lord- 
 ship said after taking the bark. He expressed a wish to sleep. I at one time 
 asked whether I should call Mr. Parry ; to which he replied, ' Yes, you may 
 call him.' Mr. Parry desired him to compose himself. He shed tears, and 
 apparently sunk into a slumber. Mr. Parry went away, expecting to find him 
 refreshed on his return— but it was the commencement of the lethargy pre- 
 ceding his death. The last words I heard my master utter were at six o'clock 
 on the evening of the 18th, when he said, ' I must sleep now ;' upon which he 
 laid down never to rise again ! — for he did not move hand or foot during the 
 following twenty-four hours. His Lordship appeared, however, to be in a 
 state of suffocation at intervals, and had a frequent rattling in the throat : on 
 these occasions I called Tita to assist me in raising his head, and I thought he 
 seemed to get quite stiff. The rattling and choaking in the throat took place 
 every half-hour ; and we continued to raise his head whenever the fit came on, 
 till six o'clock in the evening of the 19th, when I saw my master open his 
 eyes and then shut them, but without showing any symptom of pain, or 
 moving hand or foot. ' Oh ! my God !' I exclaimed, ' I fear his Lordship is 
 gone !' The doctors then felt his pulse, and said, ' You are right — he is 
 gone!'" 
 
 The Editor thinks it right to add here, from " The Examiner," Dr. Bruno's 
 Answer to Mr. Fletcher's Statement. 
 
 " Mr. Fletcher has omitted to state, that on the second day of Lord Byron's 
 illness, his pfaysician, Dr. Bruno, seeing the sudorific medicines had no effect, 
 proposed blood-letting, and that his Lordship refused to allow it, and caused 
 Mr. Millingen to be sent for, in order to consult with his physician, and see 
 if the rheumatic fever could not be cured without the loss of blood. 
 
 " Mr. Millingen approved of the medicines previously prescribed by Dr. 
 Bruno, and was not opposed to the opinion that bleeding was necessary ; but 
 he said to his Lordship that it might be deferred till the next day. He held 
 this language for three successive days, while the other physician (Dr. Bruno) 
 every day threatened Lord Byron that he would die by his obstinacy in not 
 allowing himself to be bled. His Lordship always answered, ' You wish to 
 get the reputation of curing my disease, — that is why you tell me it is so 
 serious ; but I will not permit you to bleed me.'
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 331 
 
 " After the first consultation with Mr. Milhngen, the domestic Fletcher 
 asked Dr. Bruno how his Lordship's complaint was going on .? The physician 
 replied that, if he would allow the bleeding, he would be cured in a few days. 
 But the surgeon, Mr. Milhngen, assured Lord Byron, from day to day, that it 
 could wait till to-morrow ; and thus four days slipped away, during which the 
 disease, for want of blood-letting, grew much worse. At length Mr. Milhn- 
 gen, seeing that the prognostications which Dr. Bruno had made respecting 
 Lord Byron's malady were more and more confirmed, urged the necessity of 
 bleeding, and of no longer delaying it a moment. This caused Lord Byron, 
 disgusted at finding that he could not be cured without loss of blood, to say 
 that it seemed to him that the doctors did not understand his malady. He 
 then had a man sent to Zante to fetch Dr. Thomas. Mr. Fletcher having 
 mentioned this to Dr. Bruno, the latter observed, that if his Lordship would 
 consent to lose as much blood as was necessary, he would answer for his cure ; 
 but that if he delayed any longer, or did not entirely follow his advice. Dr. 
 Thomas would not arrive in time :— in fact, when Dr. Thomas was ready to 
 set out from Zante, Lord Byron was dead. 
 
 " The pistols and stiletto were removed from his Lordship's bed,— not by 
 Fletcher, but by the servant Tita, who was the only person that constantly 
 waited on Lord Byron in his illness, and who had been advised to take this 
 precaution by Dr. Bruno, the latter having perceived that my Lord had 
 moments of delirium. 
 
 " Two days before the death, a consultation was held with three other doctors, 
 who appeared to think that his Lordship's disease was changing from inflam- 
 matory diathesis to languid, and they ordered china*, opium, and ammonia. 
 
 " Dr. Bruno opposed this with the greatest warmth, and pointed out to them 
 that the symptoms were those, not of an alteration in the disease, but of a fever 
 flying to the brain, which was violently attacked by it ; and that the wine, the 
 china, and the stimulants would kill Lord Byron more speedily than the com- 
 plaint itself could ; while, on the other hand, by copious bleedings and the 
 medicines that had been taken before, he might yet be saved. The other physi- 
 cians, however, were of a different opinion ; and it was then that Dr. Bruno 
 declared to his colleagues that he would have no further responsibihty for the 
 
 * This is a French term, sometimes used for the smilax china ; but we have no doubt it 
 means here the Jesuit's barlt. 
 
 2 T 2
 
 332 APPENDIX. 
 
 loss of Lord Byron, which he pronounced inevitable if the china were given 
 him. In effect, after my Lord had taken the tincture, with some grains of 
 carbonate of ammonia, he was seized by convulsions. Soon afterwards thev 
 gave him a cup of very strong decoction of china, with some drops of lauda- 
 num : he instantly fell into a deep lethargic sleep, from which he never rose. 
 
 " The opening of the body discovered the brain in a state of the highest 
 inflammation ; and all the six physicians who were present at that opening 
 were convinced that my Lord would have been saved by the bleeding, which 
 his physician Dr. Bruno had advised from the beginning with the most 
 pressing urgency and the greatest firmness." F. B. 
 
 Of Lord Byron's friends in Greece, those whom one should have wished to 
 have been present during his last illness, were scattered about the country : 
 Colonel Stanhope was at Salona ; Mr. Trelawney arrived at Messolonghi very 
 soon after the fatal event. " With all my anxiety," he says, in a letter written 
 immediately after, and dated Messolonghi, '• I could not get here before the 
 third day. It was the second after having crossed the first great torrent, that 
 I met some soldiers from Messolonghi : I then rode back and demanded of a 
 stranger the news from Messolonghi ; I heard nothing more than ' Lurd Byron 
 is dead,' and I passed on in gloomy silence."— It was at his desire that Dr. 
 Bruno drew up his report of the examination of Lord Byron's body. This 
 report we shall here insert, though it has been printed in the newspapers. 
 But, partly owing to the vagueness of the original, and partly to the trans- 
 lator's ignorance of anatomy, it has been hitherto pei-fectly unintelligible. 
 
 " 1. On opening tlie body of Lord Byron, tlie bones of the head were found 
 extremely hard, exhibiting no appearance of suture, like the cranium of an octogena- 
 rian, so that the skull had the appearance of one uniform bone : there seemed to be 
 no diploe, and the sinus frontal Li was wanting. 
 
 2. The dura mater was so firmly attached to the internal parietes of the cranium, 
 that the reiterated attempts of two strong men were insufficient to detach it, and the 
 vessels of that membrane were completely injected with blood. It was united from 
 point to point by membranous bridles to the pia mater. 
 
 3. Between the pia mater and the convolutions of the brain were found many 
 globules of air, witli exudation of lymph and numerous adhesions. 
 
 4. The great falj: of the dura mater was firmly attached to both hemispheres by 
 membranous bridles; and its vessels were turgid with blood. 
 
 5. On dividing the medullary substance of the brain, the exudation of blood from 
 
 N
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 333 
 
 Dhe mimtte vessels produced specks of a bright red colour. An extravasation of about 
 2 oz. of bloody serum was found beneath the ponn Varioli, at the base of the hemi- 
 spheres ; and in the two superior or lateral ventricles, a similar extravasation was dis- 
 covered at the base of the cerebellum, and the usual effects of inflammation were ob- 
 servable throughout tlie cerebrvm. 
 
 6. The medullary substance was in more than ordinary proportion to the corticle, 
 and of the usual consistency. The cerebrum and the cerebellum, without the mem- 
 branes, weighed 61bs. {mediche). 
 
 7. The channels or sulci of the blood-vessels on the internal surface of the cranium, 
 were more numerous than usual, but small. 
 
 8. The lungs were perfectly healthy, but of much more than ordinary volume 
 
 {gigantiselle^. 
 
 9. Between the pericardium and the heart there was about an ounce of lymph, and 
 the heart itself was of greater size than usual j but its muscular substance was ex- 
 tremely flaccid. 
 
 10. The liver was much smaller than usual, as was also the gall-bladder, which 
 contained air instead of bile. The intestines were of a deep bilious hue, and dis- 
 tended with air. 
 
 11. The kidneys were very large but healthy, and the vesica relatively small. 
 
 Judging from the observations marked 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, and 1 1, tlie physi- 
 cian who attended Lord Byron concludes, that he might probably have reco- 
 vered from his illness, had he submitted to the loss of blood which was recom- 
 mended at the commencement of the disease. He thinks, however, that he can 
 declare with tolerable certainty, from the appearances 1, 8, and 9, that his Lord- 
 ship could not have survived many years, on account of his habitual exposure 
 to the causes of disease, both from his habitual mental exertion, his excessive 
 occupation, and a constant state of indigestion." 
 
 From this account of the examination of the body, it is plain that Lord 
 Byron died in consequence of inflammation of the brain ; at least if the appear- 
 ances really were as described. The cause of the attack was cleaily his expo- 
 sure to wet and cold on the 9th of April. By this exposure fever was excited. 
 His brain was predisposed to disease, as is evident from the attack of convul- 
 sion from which he was scarcely yet recovered ; and the fever once produced, 
 excited inflammation in the brain the more readily on account of the predispo- 
 sition to disease which had already been manifested in that organ. That he 
 might have been saved by early and copious bleeding, and other appropriate 
 remedies, is certain. That his medical attendants had not, until it was too lafe 
 to do any thing, any suspicion of the true nature of his disease, wc arc fully
 
 334 APPENDIX. 
 
 satisfied. Nothing is known of any intention to bleed until the 15th, that is, 
 the 6th day of the disease, and then one of the medical attendants expresses in 
 a very vague manner his opinion of the remedy : " it might be of service, but 
 it could be deferred till the next day." Could any man, who was led by the 
 symptoms to suspect such a state of the organ as was revealed by inspection, 
 thus speak .' When Dr. Bruno, in his report, speaks of taking blood in the 
 early stage " in grande abbondanza," he speaks instructed by dissection. Were 
 we to place implicit confidence in the accuracy of the report of Lord Byron's 
 attendant, we should doubt, from all the circumstances, his having proposed, 
 in an early stage, copious bleeding to his patient, and his Lordship's refusal 
 to submit to the treatment. He called his complaint a cold, and said the 
 patient wotild be well in a few days, and no physician would propose copious 
 bleeding under such circumstances. It seems to us that Lord Byron's penetra- 
 tion discovered their hesitation, and suspected the ignorance by which it was 
 caused, and that his suspicion was but too well founded. Without further 
 evidence we should disbelieve in the total obliteration of the sutures; and we 
 may add, that all the inferences deduced from the alleged appearances in 
 1, 8, 9, &c. are absurd; they do not afford evidence enough to warrant the 
 slightest conjecture relative to the length or the brevity of life. It is, however, 
 but fair to add, that Lord Byron always had a very decided objection to being 
 bled ; and Dr. Bruno's own testimony, which we have already quoted, ought to 
 have its due weight. That Lord Byron should have had an insurmountable 
 objection to bleeding is extraordinary, and it in .some measure confirms what 
 he himself used to say, that he had no fear of death, but a perfect horror 
 of pain. 
 
 Lord Byron's death was a severe blow to the people of Messolonghi, and 
 they testified their sincere and deep sorrow by paying his remains all the 
 honours their state could by any possibility invent and carry into execution. 
 But a people, when really animated by the passion of grief, requires no teach- 
 ing or marshalling into the expression of its feehngs. The rude and militarv 
 mode in which the inhabitants and soldiers of Messolonghi, and of other 
 places, vented their lamentations over the body of their deceased patron and 
 benefactor, touches the heart more deeply than the vain and empty pageantry 
 of much more civilized states. 
 
 Immediately after the death of Lord Byron, and it was instantly known, for 
 the whole town was watching the event, Prince Mavrocordatos published the 
 following proclamation.
 
 GREEK PROCLAMATION. 
 
 335 
 
 •\p. 1185) 
 
 nP02l2PINH AIOIKH2I2 TH2 EAAAAOS. 
 
 /* t TtapouiTat ■^apf/.icvvot >)|U.epai lyivciv Sia o\oy? ^fia; •^fispai irevSou;. 
 
 'O Aopd No'eX Bupcii' avipatre <rfijj,spov e'l; t^v aXA.!)!/ ?t«^v, ■srspt Taf svSexa copa; 
 r^» ia-iripav fiera fi.lxy daiivsntv ^Xoyifixoo peuju.«T(xou TrupsTOu 1 rifjispaiv. 
 
 Ka> TToi'v axo'ftr) ^tepic^ ■^ 4"^%^ "t^ t' (Tcufia, r) xoiv^ xaT^fsia eXsyev (Wrjv 
 dAi'iJ/iv >)(r5avsT0 ^ xapdlot oKaiv, xai o'Xoi ft-mpoi fisyaXoi, avhps; xai yuvaixsf, nxrj/Atvoi 
 aTTO T^v •SA.AI'IV, eXri<rfjLOvriCra.Te to Y\a.tr')(a.. 
 
 'H ^eprfl'ti ociiTOJi toU AajXTrpou UTTOxeiftsvou etvai /3e/3aia TtoKKa. aifffiavrixn Si' oAijv r^ii 
 'EXA«8a, aXAa eivai ttoXu ■nepKTOTspov a^io^pijvriTO; Jia auT^v T^v IIo'Xiv, T^v oiroiav 
 riyonrnas haifepovTai;, xai elj auT^v e%oXiToypaifri, xai dnofaa-iv faflepay elp^sv av to e(p£fev 
 ^ TrepiVao"*; va yevji xai Trpoa-anrixoif o-uju.ju.ETOp(;of tojv xivSu'vojv t^;. 
 
 Kafle'vas /SXsVsi sfx-trpo; tov raf TrXoucria; tt^oj to xoivov evepyscrlas ro\i, xa) /*^te 
 evuua-e |x^T6 wauEi xavEi'f jiis suyvtufiova xai aXr)3iy^v ipojv^v va tov ovofia^jj eiipyeTrjV. 
 
 "Ecuj ou va yvaJS-OTTOiTiSeuv ai Siarayoi T^f 'Eflvix^f Aioixijcrsco; wspi auToO Tou 
 7roXu5p>)V^TOU o-ufj^fiavTOi, 
 
 Auvajj-si Tou utr up. 314 xai ^/x. 15 'Oxra)/3pioo ^&nt\u\i.xT<ii tou BouXeuTixoD 
 
 iSw/xaTo;, 
 
 AiaToeTTETai, 
 a'.) Avptov, iJ.o\ii dvarelXri i *HXioj, va weo-ouv aa-o to fx-eyaKov xavovorao-iov tou 
 TEiYOUS auTijs T^f IIo'Xecuj 37 Kavovial; ( fti'a to xafle Xstttov,) xaTii tov apiSfiOV tojv 
 ypovuiv TTiS ?anjj tou aTToSavovTOf. 
 
 ^'.) "OXa Ta xoiva wrovpyeia, 8i« TpsTf ^/te'paf xaT« (Tuwxeiav, va xXeio-fioiiv, e^Trepis^o- 
 ^Evcuv xai roiv xpir>)picuv. 
 
 y'.) Na xXeio-flouv oXa Ta Ipyag-^ipia Ixtoj exsi'vaiv, o'irou wcuXouvTai Tpo(pai, xai larpnia- 
 xai va XEivf/ouv Ta |U,oua-ixa ■iraiyvijSia, oi (ruvsiflio-j«.evoi si; auTa; Taf r^ft-ipa^ X"?"*' "" 
 xauirouv Ta (payoTTOTia. si; to. xpacroTrtuXfTa, xai xaflf aXXo sBof xsivou ^f^avrcu/wtTo;. 
 0*.) Na ysvj" 21 ijijiepcii Fsvix^ TsvSi^opi'a. 
 e'.) Na ysvouv ettix^Bsioi Sei^irei? ei; oXa; Taf exxX>i(riaj. 
 'Ev Meo-oXoyyioi tijv 7 'AwpiXXi'ou 1824. 
 
 T. 5- A. MaupoxopSaTOj. 
 
 'O rpaftftaTsiif 
 Ttwpyios ripa/Snf. 
 
 'Ex T»i5 Tu7roypa^i«5 A. Mso-Jav/aif.
 
 336 APPENDIX. 
 
 (translation.) 
 
 Art. 1185. Provisional Government of Western Greece. 
 
 The present day of festivity and rejoicing is turned into one of sorrow and 
 mourning. 
 
 The Lord Noel Byron departed this life at eleven o'clock last night, after an 
 illness of ten days ; his death being caused by an inflammatory fever. Such was the 
 effect of his Lordship's illness on the public mind, that all classes had forgotten their 
 usual recreations of Easter, even before the afflicting end was apprehended. 
 
 The loss of this illustrious individual is undoubtedly to be deplored by all 
 Greece; but it must be more especially a subject of lamentation at Messolonghi, 
 where his generosity has been .so conspicuously displayed, and of which he had even 
 become a citizen, with the ulterior determination of participating in all the dangers of 
 the war. 
 
 Every body is acquainted with the beneficent acts of his Lordship, and none can 
 cease to hail his name, as that of a real benefactor. 
 
 Until, therefore, the final determination of the national Government be known, 
 and by virtue of the powers with which it has been pleased to invest me : I hereby 
 decree, 
 
 Ist. To-morrow morning at daylight, 37 minute-guns shall be fired from the grand 
 battery, being the number which corresponds with the age of the illustrious deceased. 
 
 2nd. All the public offices, even to the tribunals, are to remain closed for three 
 successive days. 
 
 3rd. All the shops, except those in which provisions or medicines are sold, will also 
 be shut : and it is strictly enjoined, that every species of public amusement, and 
 other demonstrations of festivity at Easter, may be suspended. 
 
 4th. A general mourning will be observed for twenty-one davs. 
 
 5th. Prayers and a funeral service are to be offered up in all the churches. 
 
 (Signed) A. Mavrocordatos. 
 
 Given at Messohnghi, Giorgius Praidis, 
 
 this \9th day of April, 1824. Secretary. 
 
 There appears to have been considerable difficulty in fixing upon the place 
 of interment. No directions had been left by Lord Byron— and no one could 
 speak as to the wishes he might have entertained on the point. After the cm- 
 balnunent, tlie first step was to send the body to Zante, where tlic authorities
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 337 
 
 were to decide as to its ultiiiiate destination. Lord Sidney Osborne, a relation 
 of Lord Byron by marriage, the Secretary of the Senate at Corfu, repaired to 
 Zante to meet it. It was his wish, and that of some others, that his Lordship 
 should be interred in that island — a proposition which was received with indig- 
 nation and most decidedly opposed by the majority of the English. By one it 
 was proposed that his remains should have been deposited in the temple of 
 Theseus, or in the Parthenon, at Athens ; and as some importance might have 
 been attached to the circumstance by the Greeks, and as there is something 
 consolatory in the idea of Lord Byron reposing at last in so venerable a spot, 
 thus re-consecrating, as it were, the sacred land of the Arts and the Muses, we 
 cannot but lament tliat the measure was not hstened to. LTlysses sent an ex- 
 press to Messolonghi, to solicit that his ashes might be laid in Athens ; the 
 body had then, however, reached Zante, and it appearing to be the almost 
 unanimous wish of the English that it should be sent to England, for public 
 burial in Westminster Abbey or St. Paul's, the Resident of the Island yielded; 
 the Florida was taken up for that purpose— and the whole English public 
 know the result. 
 
 It was not only at Messolonghi, but throughout the whole of Greece, that 
 the death of Lord Byron was felt as a calamity in itself, and a bad omen for 
 the future. Lord Byron went to the Greeks not under the same circumstances 
 that any other man of equal genius might have done. He had been the poet 
 of Greece — more than any other man he had turned the attention of Europe on 
 modern Greece. By his eloquent and spirit-stirring strains, he had himself 
 powerfully co-operated in raising the enthusiasm of regeneration which now 
 reigns in Greece. All this gave to his arrival there, to use the phrase of a let- 
 ter written while he was expected, something like the character "of the coming 
 of a Messiah." Proportionate, doubtless, was the disappointment, grief, and 
 depression, when his mission ended before he had effected any thing of im- 
 portance. — Fortunately the success of Greece depends not upon the efforts 
 of any single man. Her fortune is sure, and must be made by the force of un- 
 controllable circumstances ; by the character of the country, by the present igno- 
 rance and the former brutality of its oppressors, by Greek ingenuity, dexterity, 
 and perseverance, traits stamped upon them by ages of servitude, now turned 
 with a spirit of stern revenge upon those who made such qualities necessary — 
 by the fortunate accidents which kept a host of consummate generals in the 
 
 2 u
 
 338 APPENDIX. 
 
 character of bandit robbers and shepherd chiefs, watching the moment when 
 they might assmiie a more generous trade, and on a larger scale revenge the 
 wrongs of a i-ace of mountain-warriors. — By these and a multitude of other 
 causes which might be enumerated, the fate of Greece is certain. We repeat 
 with the most earnest assurance to those who still doubt, and with the most in- 
 timate knowledge of all the facts which have taken place, that the ultimate 
 independence of Greece is secure. The only question pt stake is the rapidity 
 of the events which may lead to so desirable a consummation — so desirable to 
 those who delight in the happiness and improvement of mankind — so delightful 
 to those who have the increased prosperity of England at heart. It is iiere 
 that Lord Byron might have been useful ; by healing divisions, by exciting 
 dormant energies, by ennobling and celebrating the cause, he might perliaps 
 have accelerated the progress of Greece towards the wished-for goal. But 
 even here, though his life was not to be spared, his death may be useful — the 
 death-place of such a man must be in itself illustrious. The Greeks will not 
 despair when they think how great a sacrifice has been made for them : the 
 eyes of all Europe are turned to the spot in which he breathed his last. No 
 man who knows that Lord Byron's name and fame were more universal than 
 those of any other then or now existing, can be indifferent to the cause for 
 which he spent his last energies — on which he bent his last thoughts — the 
 cause for which he died.
 
 ( 339 ) 
 
 FUNERAL ORATION ON LORD NOEL BYRON, 
 COMPOSED AND DELIVERED BY M. SPIRIDION TRICOUPI. 
 
 (Printed by Order of Government.) 
 
 Messolonghi, lOth April, 
 Thursday in Easier Week, 1824. 
 
 Unlooked-for event ! deplorable misfortune ! But a short time has elapsed 
 since the people of this deeply suffering country welcomed, with unfeigned joy 
 and open arms, this celebrated individual to their bosoms ; to-day, overwhelmed 
 with grief and despair, they bathe his funeral couch with tears of bitterness, 
 and mourn over it with inconsolable affliction. On Easter Sunday, the happy 
 salutation of the day, " Christ is risen," remained but half pronounced on the 
 Ups of every Greek ; and as they met, before even congratulating one another 
 on the return of that joyous day, the universal demand was, " How is Lord 
 Byron .'''''' Thousands, assembled in the spacious plain outside of the city to 
 commemorate the sacred day, aj)peared as if they liad assembled for the sole 
 purpose of imploring the Saviour of the world to restore to health him who 
 was a partaker with us in our present struggle for the deliverance of our native 
 land. 
 
 And how is it possible that any heart should remain unmoved, any lip 
 closed upon tlie present occasion ? Was ever Greece in greater want of as- 
 sistance tlian when the ever-to-be-lamcnted Lord Byron, at the peril of his life, 
 crossed over to Messolonghi ? Then, and ever since he has been with us, his 
 liberal hand has been opened to our necessities — necessities which our own po- 
 verty would have otherwise rendered irremediable. How many and much 
 greater benefits did we not expect from him !— and to-day, alas ! to-day, the 
 unrelenting grave closes over him and our hopes ! 
 
 Residing out of Greece, and enjoying all the pleasures and luxui'ies of Eu- 
 rope, he might have contributed materially to the success of our cause, without 
 coming personally amongst us ; and this would have been sufficient for us, — for 
 the well-proved ability and profound judgment of our Governor, the President 
 of the Senate, would have ensured our safety with the means so supplied. But 
 
 2 u 2
 
 340 APPENDIX. 
 
 if this was sufficient for us, it was not so for Lord Byron. Destined by nature 
 to upliold the lights of man whenever he saw them trampled upon ; born in a 
 free and enlightened country ; early taught, by reading the works of our an- 
 cestors, (which indeed teach all who can read them,) not only what man is, but 
 what he ought to be, and what he may be — he saw the persecuted and enslaved 
 Greek determine to break the heavy chains with which he was bound, and to 
 convert the iron into sharp-edged swords, that he might regain by force what 
 
 force had torn from him ! He (Lord B.) saw, and leaving all the pleasures 
 
 of Europe, he came to share our sufferings and our hardships ; assisting us, not 
 only with his wealth, of which he was profuse ; not only with his judgment, of 
 which he has given us so many salutary examples ; — but with his sword, which 
 he was preparing to unsheatli against our barbarous and tyrannical oppressors. 
 He came, in a word, according to the testimony of tliose who were intimate 
 with him, with the determination to die in Greece and for Greece! How, 
 therefore, can we do otherwise than lament with heartfelt sorrow the loss of 
 such a man ! How can we do otherwise than bewail it as the loss of the whole 
 Greek nation ! 
 
 Thus far, my friends, you have seen him liljeral, generous, courageous — a 
 true Philhelenist ; and you liave seen him as your benefactor. This is, indeed, 
 a sufficient cause for your tears, but it is not sufficient for his honour ; it is not 
 sufficient for the greatness of the undertaking in which he had engaged. He, 
 whose death we are now so deeply deploring, was a man who, in one great 
 branch of literature, gave his name to the age in which we live : the vastness of 
 his genius and the richness of liis fancy did not permit him to follow the splen- 
 did though beaten track of the literary fame of the ancients ; he chose a new 
 road — a road which ancient prejudice had endeavoured, and was still endea- 
 vouring, to shut against the learned of Europe : but as long as his writings 
 live, and they must live as long as the world exists, this road will remain 
 always open ; for it is, as weU as the other, a sure road to true knowledge. I 
 will not detain you at the present time by expressing all the respect and en- 
 thusiasm wath which the perusal of his writings has always inspired me, and 
 which indeed I feel mucii more powerfully now than at any other period. The 
 learned men of all Europe celebrate him, and have celebrated him ; and all 
 ages will celebrate the poet of our age, for he was born for all Europe and fox 
 all ages.
 
 FUNERAL ORATION. 341 
 
 One consideration occurs to me, as striking and true as it is applicable to the 
 present state of our country : listen to it, my friends, with attention, that you 
 may make it your own, and that it may become a generally acknowledged truth. 
 
 There have been many great and splendid nations in the world, but few 
 have been the epochs of their true glory : one phenomenon, I am inclined to 
 believe, is wanting in the history of these nations, — and one, the possibihty of 
 the appearance of which the all-considering mind of the philosopher has much 
 doubted. Almost all the nations of the world have fallen from the hands of 
 one master into those of another ; some have been benefited, others have been 
 injured by the change ; but the eye of the historian has not yet seen a nation 
 enslaved by barbarians, and more particularly by barbarians rooted for ages in 
 their soil — has not yet seen, I say, such a people tlirow off their slavery unas- 
 sisted and alone. This is the phenomenon ; and now, for the first time in the 
 history of the world, we witness it in Greece — yes, in Greece alone ! The phi- 
 losopher beholds it from afar, and his doubts are dissipated ; the historian sees 
 it, and prepares his citation of it as a new event in the fortunes of nations ; the 
 statesman sees it, and becomes more observant and more on his guard. Such 
 is the extraordinary time in which we live. My friends, the insurrection of 
 Greece is not an epoch of our nation alone ; it is an epoch of all nations : for, 
 as I before observed, it is a phenomenon which stands alone in the political 
 history of nations. 
 
 The great mind of the highly gifted and much lamented Byron observed 
 this phenomenon, and he wished to unite his name with our glory. Other re- 
 volutions have happened in his time, but he did not enter into any of them — 
 he did not assist any of them; for their character and nature were totally diflTe- 
 rent: the cause of Greece alone was a cause worthy of him whom all the learned 
 [men] of Europe celebrate. Consider then, my friends, consider the time in 
 which you live — in what a struggle you are engaged ; consider that the glory 
 of past ages admits not of comparison with yours: the friends of liberty, the 
 philanthropists, the philosophers of all nations, and especially of the enlight- 
 ened and generous English nation, congratulate you, and from afar rejoice 
 with you ; all animate you ; and the poet of our age, already crowned with 
 immortality, emulous of your glory, came personally to your shores, that he 
 might, together with yourselves, wash out with his blood the marks of tyranny 
 from our polluted soil.
 
 342 APPENDIX. 
 
 Born in the great capital of England,* his descent noble, on the side of both 
 his father and his mother, what unfeigned joy did his philhellenick heart feel, 
 when our poor city, in token of our gratitude, inscribed liis name among the 
 number of her citizens ! In the agonies of death ; yes, at the moment when 
 eternity appeared before him ; as he was lingering on the brink of mortal and 
 immortal life ; when all the material world appeared but as a speck in the great 
 works of Divine Omnipotence ; in that awful hour, but two names dwelt upon 
 the hps of this illustrious individual, leaving all the world besides — the names 
 of his only and much beloved daughter, and of Greece: these two names, 
 deeply engraven on his heart, even the moment of death could not efface. " My 
 daughter !" he said ; " Greece !" he exclaimed ; and his spirit passed away. 
 What Grecian heart will not be deeply affected as often as it recalls this 
 moment ! 
 
 Our tears, my friends, will be grateful, very gi-ateful to his shade, for they 
 are the tears of sincere affection ; but much more grateful will be our deeds in 
 the cause of our country, wliich, though removed from us, he will observe from 
 the heavens, of which his virtues have doubtless opened to him the gates. 
 This return alone does he require from us for all his munificence ; this reward 
 for his love towards us ; this consolation for his sufferings in our cause ; and 
 this inheritance for the loss of his invaluable life. When your exertions, my 
 friends, shall have liberated us from the hands which have so long held 
 us down in chains ; from the hands which have torn from our arms, our 
 property, our brothers, our children; — then will his spirit rejoice, then will 
 his shade be satisfied ! — Yes, in that blessed hour of our freedom, the Arch- 
 bishop will extend his sacred and free hand, and pronounce a blessing over his 
 venerated tomb ; the young warrior sheathing his sword, red with the blood of 
 his tyrannical oppressors, will strew it with laurel ; the statesman will conse- 
 crate it with his oratory ; and the poet, resting upon the marble, will become 
 doubly inspired ; the virgins of Greece (whose beauty our illustrious fellow- 
 citizen Byron has celebrated in many of his poems,) without any longer fearing 
 contamination from the rapacious hands of our oppressors, crowning their heads 
 with garlands, will dance round it, and sing of the beauty of our land, which 
 
 * This translation is by a Greek at Messolonghi, from the original modern Greek Gazette. 
 No alterations liave been made, though a few suggest themselves ; one of which is, that 
 Lord Byron was not born in London.
 
 FUNERAL ORATION. 343 
 
 the poet of our age lias already commemorated with such grace and truth. 
 But what sorrowful thought now presses upon my mind ! My fancy has cax- 
 ried me away ; I had pictured to myself all that my heart could have desired ; 
 I had imagined the blessin.; of our Bishops, the hymns, and laurel crowns, and 
 the dance of the virgins of Greece round the tomb of the benefactor of Greece; 
 —but this tomb will not contain his precious remains ; the tomb will remain 
 void ; but a few days mo.-e will his body remain on the face of our land-of 
 his new chosen country; it cannot be given over to our arms; it must be borne 
 to his own native land, which is honoured by his birth. 
 
 Oh Daughter ! most dearly beloved by him, your arms will receive him ; 
 your tears will bathe the tomb which shall contain his body ;— and the tears of 
 the orphans of Greece will be shed over the urn containing his precious heart, 
 and over all the land of Greece, for all the land of Greece is his tomb. As in 
 the last moment of his life you and Greece were alone in his heart and upon 
 his lips, it was but just that she (Greece) should retain a share of the pre- 
 cious remains. Messolonghi, his country, will ever watch over and protect with 
 all her strength the urn containing his venerated heart, as a symbol of his love 
 towards us. All Greece, clothed in mourning and inconsolable, accompanies 
 the procession in which it is borne; all ecclesiastical, civil and military honours 
 attend it ■ all his fellow-citizens of Messolonghi and fellow-countrymen of 
 Greece follow it, crowning it with their gratitude and bedewing it with their 
 tears ; it is blessed by the pious benedictions and prayers of our Archbishop, 
 Bishop, and all our Clergy. Learn, noble Lady, learn that chieftains bore it 
 on their shoulders, and carried it to the church ; thousands of Greek soldiers 
 lined the way through which it passed, with the muzzles of their muskets, 
 which had destroyed so many tyrants, pointed towards the ground, as though 
 they would war against that earth which was to deprive them for ever of the 
 sight of their benefactor ;-all this crowd of soldiers, ready at a moment to 
 march against the implacable enemy of Christ and man, surrounded the fune- 
 ral couch, and swore never to forget the sacrifices made by your Father for us, 
 and never to allow the spot where his heart is placed to be trampled upon by 
 barbarous and tyrannical feet. Thousands of Christian voices were in a mo- 
 ment heard, and the temple of the Almighty resounded with supplications and 
 prayers that his venerated remains might be safely conveyed to his native land, 
 and that his soul might rest where the righteous alone find rest.
 
 344 APPENDIX. 
 
 ODE TO THE MEMORY OF LORD BYRON. 
 
 FROM A GREEK JOURNAL. 
 
 'fiS^ el; TOi/ XopS Bupcuva. 
 'EXeysia. 
 Toug AaftTTpouf vijkvovg T^f vi'xJjf ouphaiv. 
 
 Uixpu; XVTTOUVT ct'i ^ux,'" '''*''' f^^'l"*"' 
 T' uxovsi (tttxpohv xa) '/a.xp' s^ipo;. 
 
 'O <piAof ^Xfls, irXi^v fio'Xif Tov sKov, 
 SxaTTTOuv xXalovTs; tov riifov auTou. 
 ISoii TO TsXo; kvio^cov iXTtihiov 
 Kai TO Tpoirouov ^avarov (rxXr^pw. 
 
 'HaSs vii kf/i.Trvsv(j'' tag aXKog TupTctio;, 
 
 Eif Xaflf (TTtl^Oi TTOkipLCOV OpfjJtjV 
 
 YlXr^v (feu ! 6 BapSof IXTiVaf /xaTai'wf 
 'ISou jxevsi Ei; aiuiviov (Tianr^v. 
 
 'fjj 8ev8pov xeit' 67r' exoV/xsi jixeyaXais 
 Tqv xopvfijv |u.ouirixou Flapvao'O'Ou, 
 Ni3v TTpOTTolaiv pSelpovG'aTOv to xaKXog 
 nvo'i) TO ep^i\|»' avEftou (j(poipoii. 
 
 'EXAa; ! lav to am^aT ^ 'AyyXla 
 Na ^6p' sif ftv^fta ?>)Ta irarpixm 
 Eiwf, Moucrcuv to ftrjTspa yXuxsIa, 
 Eivai Tixvov fj-oii iiio; tu>v Mouirii/. 
 
 K.uTa<ppovaiv Tojv epcoTiov Touj ^prflovg 
 'HSovijj /A^i' axouuiv t^v i^ajv^v, 
 'E^^t' ISci ^ptucuv TOUf xivSuvouj 
 Taifoi/ aj e;^' rjpiiiuv sij T^v yjiv.
 
 ODE, &c. 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 [prom the literary GAZETTK.I 
 
 Victorious hymns no longer court the ear ; 
 
 The hosts of Greece the clouds of grief oppress ; 
 The hardy warrior drops th' unwonted tear. 
 
 And distant foes exult at our distress. 
 
 He came to succour— hut, alas ! how soon 
 With him the light of all our prospects fled ! 
 
 Our sun has sought the darkness of the tomb. 
 For Byron, friend of liberty, is dead ! 
 
 A new Tyrtaeus gladden'd all our land. 
 
 Inspiring ev'ry soul with ancient fire ; 
 But now, alas! death chills his friendly hand. 
 
 And endless silence sits upon his lyre. 
 
 So some fair tree which waved its shady head. 
 
 And graced the heights where famed Parnassus joind. 
 
 Is torn by tempests from its earthy bed. 
 And yields its beauties scattered to the wind. 
 
 Oh, Greece ! should England claim her right to lay 
 
 His ashes where his valiant sires have lain. 
 Do thou, sweet mother of the Muses ! say 
 
 That thou alone those ashes shouldst retain ! 
 Domestic joy he nobly sacrificed. 
 
 To shun the path of pleasure was his doom— 
 These for lieroic dangers he despised ; 
 
 Then Greece, the land of heroes; he his tomb ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRIMED BV S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET. 
 
 345
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 21, line 12, /or " forming" rcarf " frowning." 
 
 65, — 1, — " prime," rfffrf " grim." 
 
 91, ■ — 6, — " Cre.ssida's passion," rearf " Cressida pawim.' 
 
 99, — 20, — " Argive," read " Argine." 
 
 102, — 7, afler " do," imtead of" and viHf:" put " Lev/is," 
 
 104, — 14, /or " wag," read " hag." 
 
 120, — 8, — " Benyons," reod " Benzons." 
 
 138, — 8, after " at Lucca," insert " said Slielley." 
 
 — 15, — " school," insert " replied Lord Byron." 
 
 139, — 12, for " recitation," read " recitative."
 
 New Burlington Street, Oct. 23, 1824. 
 
 WORKS IN THE PRESS, 
 
 AND WHICH WILL SHORTLY BE PUBLISHED BY HENRY COLBURN. 
 
 1. 
 A Second Series of SAYINGS AND 
 DOINGS. 
 
 " Full of wise satvs and modem instances." 
 Uniform with the First Series, in 3 vols, post 8vo. 
 2. 
 
 The PRIVATE JOURNAL of MA- 
 DAME DE CAMPAN, Author of the Memoirs of Marie 
 Antoinette, &c., with Extracts from her CORRESPON- 
 DENCE. Editions in French and English, in 1 vol. Hvo. 
 
 3. 
 A Second Series of HIGHWAYS and 
 
 BY-WAYS ; or, TALES OF THE ROAD-SIDE : picked 
 up in the French Provinces. By a Walkmg Gentleman. 
 In 2 vols, post 8vo. 
 
 4. 
 JOURNAL of a RESIDENCE in CO- 
 LOMBIA, in the years 1823 and 1824. By CAPTAIN 
 CHARLES COCHRANE, of the Royal Navy. 2 vols. 
 8vo. 
 
 5. 
 DON ESTEBAN : or, MEMOIRS of a 
 
 SPANIARD. Written by Himself. In 3 vols. 
 6. 
 
 The LAST MOMENTS of NAPO- 
 LEON. By Dii. ANTOMMARCHI. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 7. 
 THE SPIRIT of the AGE ; or, Con- 
 
 TEMi'ORAKY Portraits. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 8. 
 HISTORY of the COMMONWEALTH 
 
 of ENGLAND. By WILLIAM GODWIN. Volume the 
 Second. 8vo. 
 
 9. 
 LETTERS FROM THE EAST. By 
 
 John Carne, Esq. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 10. 
 The Fourth Livraison of NAPO- 
 LEON'S HISTORICAL MEMOIRS, dictated at St. 
 Helena to the Generals who shared his Captivity. In 
 French and English. Svo. 
 
 11. 
 
 A Second Series of TABLE TALK; 
 
 or. Essays on MEN and MANNERS. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 
 12. 
 MEMOIRS of COUNT SEGUR, Am- 
 
 bassador from France to the Court of Prussia. Written 
 by Himself. 2 vols. 8vo, 
 
 13. 
 
 DIARY of the MARQUIS de DAN- 
 
 GEAU, kept during his Residence at the COURT of 
 FRANCE, from the year 1680 to 1720, containing a 
 great number of Secret Anecdotes and Facts hitherto 
 unknown respecting the Courts of France and England. 
 Translated from the original French MS. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 The same work in French. 
 
 14. 
 The MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS 
 
 of JOHN EVELYN, ESQ., the celebrated Author of 
 " Sylva," &c. Now first cjllected, and edited, with 
 Notes. Printed uniformly with the Memoirs, in I vol. 
 royal 4to. and embellished with Engravings. 
 
 15. 
 MEMOIRS of SAMUEL PEPYS, 
 
 ESQ. Secretary to the Admiralty during the Reigns of 
 CHARLES II. and JAMES II. and the intimate friend 
 of the celebrated John Evelyn. Now first deciphered 
 from the original MSS. written in short-hand, and pre- 
 served in the Pepysian Library. 
 
 The Journal commences immediately before the Re- 
 storation, when Mr. Pepys sailed with Admiral Montagu 
 to bring over the King from Breda, and is continued 
 almost uninterruptedly for ten years, containing much 
 curious matter not to be found in any other history of 
 that eventful period. Independently of the naval trans- 
 actions, which arc detailed with great exactness, the 
 pages abound with private anecdotes of Charles II. and 
 liis Court ; and Mr. Pepys' peculiar habits of observation 
 led him generally to record the most curious character- 
 istics of the times in which he lived. 
 
 The work will be comprised in 2 vols. 4to., printed uni- 
 formly with Evelyn's Memoirs, and embellished with 
 Portraits of the Author, and some of the principal Per- 
 sons connected with the Memoirs.
 
 IMPORTANT WORKS 
 
 LATELY PUBLISHED BY HENRY COLBURN. 
 
 1. MEMOIRS of GOETHE, Author of 
 "Werter," " Faust," Ike. Written by himself. 
 In 2 vols. 8vo. with a fine Portrait, price 24s. 
 
 "Goethe has justly been classed by the critics of Germany with 
 the master.minds of modern Europe — with Shakspeare, with Dante, 
 and with Cerrantes: not as pucsessinB powert of a similar kind, but 
 HS enjoying, like those great men, the reputation of being, beyond 
 all compaiison, the lirst of his a^e and country." 
 
 2. MEMOIRS of MARIE ANTOINETTE, 
 QUEEN of FRANCE. By Madame Campan, First 
 Lady of the Bed-chaiiiber to the Queen. The Third 
 Edition. In 2 vols 8vo. with Portraits, 24s. Frencli 
 
 21s. 
 
 "We have seldom perused so entertaining a work — it is a 
 mirror of the most splendid court in Europe, at a time when mon- 
 archy had not been shorn of any of its beams, atid is particularly 
 worthy of our attention." — Morniw^ Chromcle. 
 
 3. LIFE and TIMES of SALVATOR ROSA. 
 By Lady Morgan. In 2 vols. 8vo. with a fine Por- 
 trait of Salvator, from the original Painting by him- 
 self, in the possession of Earl Grosvenor, price 28s. 
 
 " Lady Morgan has produced two of the most amusing octavos 
 we have met with, e«en in this biographical age."— iVintiotrA Ma- 
 gasine. 
 
 4. GEORGE THE THIRD, his COURT 
 
 and FAMILY; the Pihsonal Hi.story of his 
 late Majesty. The Thinl Edition, comprisiiig 
 various important Additions, iiandsomely printed in 
 2 vols. 8vo. and embellished with 18 Portraits, 
 28s. boards. 
 
 Tliis work will be found to abound in rilalion! of those peculiar 
 traits of character for which his Majesty was so distinguished 
 during his long and eventful reign, and which Inive rendered his 
 personal history so remarkably attractive. 
 
 5. HISTORY of the COMMONWEALTH 
 of ENGLAND. By William Godv/in. The 
 first volume, containing the Civil War. 8vo. 14s. 
 
 "We cannot take leave of Mr. Godwin, without expressing our 
 gratitude to him for the new and correct lights he has thrown upon 
 a page of history, hitherto too much blotted by malice, and blurred 
 and garbled by hostility. We rise from such a work with thoughts 
 and feelings instructed and refined— instructed by its correct viev.s 
 and laborious research, and refined by the proofs it exhibits of the 
 amiable suavity and tem|.crance, as well as unbending justice and 
 principle, ot the writer." — Critical Gazette, 
 
 6 THE PltlVATE LIFE nntl CONVEll- 
 SATIONS of the EMPEROR NAPOLl^ON. By 
 the Count de las Cases. A New Edition, com- 
 pressed into 4 handsome Volumes, and illustrated 
 with Portraits of Napoleon and Las Cases ; a \'icw 
 of the House in which Na|)olcon was born at Ajac- 
 cio in Corsica; four coloured views of St. Helena, 
 taken on the spot; besides Maps, Plans, &c. 
 
 The price of this New Edition is reduced to 13s. 
 i)er vol. or 2l. 12s. the complete work, in French or 
 English; and as it is universally acknrnvledgcd lo 
 form the most complete epitome of the Life, Charac- 
 ter, and Opinions of this extraordinary man, it is 
 presumed that there are few who will not be desirous 
 of possessing it. 
 
 7. PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE of 
 WILLIAM COWPER, Esq. with several of his 
 most intimate Friends. Now first published from 
 the originals, in the possession of the Editor, the 
 Rev. Dr. Johnson, Rector of Yaxham with Wel- 
 borne, in Norfolk. The Second Edition, in 2 vols. 
 8vo. with Portraits of Cowper and Mrs. Unwin. 
 
 " A delightful work. The Letters, now for the first time pub- 
 lished, are even better than those which have so long secured the 
 public favour. Their un.Tffecttd pleasantry, abundant variety, and 
 unstudied eloquence, remind us of the best efforts of Addison and 
 Steele, over which authors Cowper had the advantage in a more 
 generally informed understanding." — Times. 
 
 8. LETTERS on ENGLAND. By the 
 (\)UNT DE SoLiGNY. Containing free Remarks on 
 the present state of Society and Manners, the Arts, 
 Literature, Amusements, &c. In 2 vols, post 8vo. 
 21s. 
 
 "The national character of the English is drawn with so caustic 
 and unsparing a hand, that we would willingly think it the work 
 uF any nne but a eountryman, rlid we not console ourselves with 
 the reflection, that this exaggerated satire is assumed the more 
 t'Ifoctually to disguise the near connexion of the writer with the 
 cliaracter he thus delineates. Southey betrayed himself in his 
 ' Espiiella's Letters,' from a similar degree of over-acted carefalness 
 to keep up the Spanisli character.'* — Literary Museum, 
 
 1 
 
 or ESSAYS on MEN 
 Second Edition, in 2 vols. 
 
 0. TAl'.LE TALK 
 and MANNERS. Tht 
 8vo. price 21s. 
 
 *,* Vol. 2 may be had separately to complete sets. 
 
 10. VIEW of the LITERATURE of the 
 SOUTH of EUROPE. By M. De Sismondi. 
 Translated from the Original, with Notes. By 
 Thomas Roscoe, Esq. In 4 large volumes, 8vo. 
 price 2l. l6s. 
 
 "This is a valuable and interesting work. It presents a hroad 
 and general view of the rise and progress of modern literature, 
 which will he read with equal gratification and improvement." — 
 New Times. 
 
 II. JOURNAL of a RESIDENCE in ASHAN- 
 TEK. By .lo.sBPH Dupuis, tlsq. late his Britannic 
 Majesty's 'Envoy and Consul for that kingdom. In 
 1 vol.4to. with'a Map and IS Plates, price 2l. 12s. (id. 
 boards. 
 
 " We recommend this work as one of the most interesting that 
 has appeared for some time i it embraces a valuable account of 
 Western Africa, and a scri.-s of geographical documents of great 
 importance, from the Arabic. These papers throw much light on 
 the subject of Afiican discovery, and will be of great use to future 
 travellers. From the situati-in Mr. Dupuis hold, and the facilities 
 he possessed, he is enabled lo give iiiformalion inaccessible to 
 others ; and the respectability of his character is a guarantee of 
 the truth of his statements. The account of his missions lo the 
 King of Ashanlee is highly interesting, as is his general description 
 of the country." — Slor. 
 
 ^
 
 iM'^r 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Santa Barbara 
 Goleta, California 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 
 ^VATLABI.K Flip 
 iCrt.ATION ■ "T 
 
 STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 y, - 
 
 EEBJ91968N 
 
 )68 IV 
 
 
 A'^ 
 
 ■r, 
 
 PEB 3J969 
 
 u,N 91969 
 j"JN301969-]h 
 
 :0r..-8,'60(B2594s4)476 

 
 :iM'Mi'W!l'1111^ 
 
 V|o5 00692 7386 
 
 #^ 
 
 DD 000 003 631 9
 
 
 
 CI 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 S 
 
 s 
 
 ^ 
 
 6 
 
 S 
 
 S 
 
 
 
 S 
 
 3 
 
 s