i
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CONVERSATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 LORD BYRON: 
 
 NOTED 
 DURING A RESIDENCE WITH HIS LORDSHIP 
 
 AT PISA, 
 
 IN THE YEARS 1821 AND 1822. 
 
 BY THOMAS MEDWIN, ESQ. 
 
 OF THE C4th LIGHT DRAGOONS, 
 AUTHOR OF " AHASUERUS THE WANDERER." 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1824. 
 
 < i\ '-J o (^ i\ 
 
 -'- J O vJ O (J
 
 <C* Cft« •••
 
 
 V 
 
 J ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The Publisher of this Work thinks it 
 !^ proper to state, that he felt desirous of 
 
 A suggesting to the Author, who is abroad, 
 the omission of certain passages; but, 
 finding that these, among others, had 
 ^1 been extracted, with the Author's per- 
 mission, from the original manuscript, 
 before it came into his possession, and 
 
 ^ that they have appeared in print, he 
 has. no longer considered it necessary 
 to urge their suppression in the present 
 Volume. 
 
 /
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " A great poet belongs to no country; 
 his works are public property, and bis 
 Memoirs the inheritance of the public." 
 Such were the sentiments 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 remedv, the evil. 
 
 I am aware that in publishing these 
 reminiscences I shall have to contend with 
 much obloquy from some parts of his
 
 Mil rilEIACE. 
 
 family, — 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 tagk I have undertaken, conscientious- 
 y/ ly : 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 life ; 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
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IX 
 
 strong. Both demanded continual em- 
 ployment ; and he had an impatience of 
 repose, a " restlessness of rest," that kept 
 them in constant activity. It is satisfactory 
 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 mankind. 
 
 How I became acquainted with so many 
 particulars of his history, so many incidents 
 of his life, so many of his opinions, is easi- 
 ly 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 pubHc.
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 I despise mere writing for the sake of 
 book-making, and have disdained to swell 
 out my materials into volumes. I have 
 given his ideas as I noted them down at 
 the time, — in his own words, as far as my 
 recollection served. 
 
 They are however, in many cases, the 
 substance without the form. The bril- 
 liancy of his wit, the flow of his eloquence, 
 the sallies of his imagination, 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 
 AVould flash upon our faces, till the day 
 Might dawn, and make me wonder at my stay." 
 
 Shelley's Julian and Maddalo. 
 
 Geneva, 1st August, 1824.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Che Writer's arrival at Pisa. Lord Byron's 
 
 live stock and impedimenta. The Lanfran- 
 
 chi palace ; Ugolino ; Lanfranchi's ghost. 
 
 Enghsh Cerberus. Lord B.'s Leporello; 
 
 bas rehefs and mantel-pieces 1 — 5 
 
 Introduction to Lord Byron. His cordiality 
 of manner. Description of his person ; his 
 bust by Bertolini ; the cloven foot ; his tem- 
 perate habits, and regard for the brute 
 creation. Conversations on Switzerland and 
 Germany ; strong predilection for Turkey . 5 — 13 
 
 Residence at Geneva. IVIalicious intruders. 
 Madame de Stael. Dinner disaster. Ex- 
 cursions on the lake; Shelley and Hob- 
 house; St. Preux and Julia; classical 
 drowning. Lord Byron's horsemanship; 
 pistol-firing ; remarks on dueUing ; his own 
 duels. Anecdote 13 — 19
 
 XII CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 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. Cava- 
 lieri Serventi. Mode of bringing up Italian 
 females ; its consequences. Italian propen- 
 sity to love. Intimacy with the Countess : 
 her rescue ] 9 — 32 
 
 Lord Byron's preference for Ravenna. Fe- 
 male beauty in Italy and England com- 
 pared. The Constitutionalists ; their pro- 
 scription. Lord Byron's danger. Assassi- 
 nation of the military Commandant at Ra- 
 venna. Lord B.'s humanity 32 — 40 
 
 The Byron Memoirs : Mr. Moore, Lady Burg- 
 hersh, and Lady Byron. Lord B."'s opi- 
 nion of his own Memoirs; his marriage and 
 separation. Mrs. Williams, the English 
 Sybil. An omen. Lord B.'s introduction 
 to ]Miss Millbank ; his courtship and mar- 
 riage 40—4 6 
 
 The wedding-ring. An imeasy ride. The 
 honey-moon. Lord and Lady B.'s fashion- 
 able dissipation ; consequent embarrassment ; 
 final separation. Lord B.\s prejudices re-^ 
 specting women. Family jars ; Mrs. Char- 
 iement Doinestic felony. Mrs. Mardyn. 
 Statute of lunacy. Lady NoePs hatred : 
 anecdote 46 — 58
 
 CONTENTS. xiii 
 
 Page 
 Lady Byron's abilities. Lord B.'s various 
 
 counter-parts. " The Examiner" and Lady 
 Jersey. Sale of Newstead Abbey ; depar- 
 ture from England 59 — 64 
 
 Madame de Stael and Goethe. Lord B.'s 
 
 partiality for America ; curious specimen of l^ 
 American criticism. The ' Sketches of 
 Italy.' Lord B.'s life at Venice; further 
 remarks on his Memoirs 65 — 70 
 
 Anecdotes of himself and companions; Lord 
 Falkland. Lord B.'s presentiments; early 
 horror of matrimony ; anti-matrimonial wa- 
 ger. Anecdotes of his father. Craniologv. 
 Anecdote of his uncle. Early love for 
 
 Scotland ; Mary C . Harrow School ; 
 
 Duke of Dorset ; Lords Clare and Cal- 
 
 thorpe ; school rebellion 70 — 85 
 
 The ' Hours of Idleness.' The skull goblet ; 
 a new order established at Newstead. Julia 
 Alplnula. 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. Sin- 
 gular occurrence. Comparison of English 
 and Itahan profligacy 85 — 94 
 
 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
 
 xiv CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Venice. His own and Napoleon's opinion 
 
 of women. The new Pornarina ; Harlowe 
 the painter. Gallantry sometimes danger- 
 ous at Venice 94-105 
 
 )/ Lord Byron's religious opinions; his scepti- 
 cism only occasional. English Cathedral 
 Service. Religion of Tasso and Milton. 
 Missionary Societies, and missions to the 
 East. Tentazioiie di Sanf Antonio. Taci- 
 tus; Priestley and Wesley. Dying mo- 
 ments of Johnson, Cowper, Hume, Vol- 
 taire, and Creech. Sale. Anythingarians ; 
 Gibbon ; Plato's three principles. Lord B.'s 
 correspondents; ecstatic epistolary extract. 
 IPrayer for Lord B.'s conversion ; his avowal 
 
 of being a Christian 103-119 
 
 All Pacha's barbarity. Affecting tale. Real 
 incident in ' The Giaour.' Albanian 
 guards. The Doctor in alarm. Lord By- 
 ron's ghost. He prophesies that he should 
 die in Greece. Lord Byron and the Drury 
 Lane Committee. Theatricals. Obstacles 
 to writing for the stage. Kemble ; Mrs. 
 Siddons ; Munden ; Shakspeare ; Alfieri ; 
 Maturin ; Miss Baillie. Modern sensitive- 
 ness. ' Marino Faliero.' Ugo Foscolo . 119-141 
 Ada. Singular coincidence. Ideas on edu- 
 cation. Ada's birth-day. Lord Byron's
 
 CONTENTS. XV 
 
 Page 
 melancholy and superstition. Birth-day 
 
 fatalities. Death of Polidori. ' The Vam- i^" 
 pyre' — foundation of the story Lord By- 
 ron's ; ' Frankenstein, or the Modern Pro- I 
 metheus.'* Query to Sir Humphry Davy. 
 Scott, Rousseau, and Goethe. Fulfilment 
 of Mrs. Williams's prophecy. Unlucky 
 numbers 141-153 
 
 Lord Byron's epigrams. His hospitality. 
 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 153-168 
 
 Swimming across the Hellespont. Adven- 
 tures at Brighton and Venice. ' Marino 
 Faliero' and ' The Two Foscari.*' Hoffg- the 
 Ettrick Shepherd's prediction. Failure of 
 ' Marino Faliero :' Lord Byron's epigram 
 on the occasion. Louis Dix-huit's trans- 
 lation : Jeffrey's criti([ue. Quarterly and 
 Edinburgh Reviews. Subjects for tragedies 168-183 
 
 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 thea- 
 tricals. The Dejinite Article. A i)Iay 
 proposed. The Guiccioli's Fe<o . . . . 183-201
 
 XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Merits of actors. Dowton and Kean. Kean's 
 
 Richard the Third and Sir Giles Over- 
 reach. Garrick's dressing of Othello. 
 Kemble's costume; his Coriolanus and 
 Cato : his colloquial blank verse. Impro- 
 visatori : Theodore Hook : Sgricci ; his 
 ' Iphigenia. ' Mrs. Siddons and Miss 
 O'Neill. The elephant's legs. Stage court- 
 ship. Lamb ''s Specij nens. Plagiarisms. '^' 
 
 'Faust^TT" 201-212 
 
 Lord Byron's ' Hours of Idleness.' The 
 ineffectual potation. Severity of review- 
 ers. ' English Bards and Scotch Re- 
 viewers.' Jeffrey and Moore. Moore's 
 challenge to Lord Byron ; miscarriage of 
 the letter; subsequent friendship. Charac- 
 ter of Southey 213-221 
 
 Mr. Southey's letter in ' The Literary 
 Gazette.' Lord Byron's anxiety and an- 
 ger. ' Vision of Judgment.' Southey's 
 critique on ' Foliage.' Shelley's AQsog. 
 * The Deformed Transformed :' Shelley's 
 opinion thereon. Southey's epitaph. ' Hea- 
 ven and Earth :' Murray's refusal to print. 
 ' Cain,' and the Lord Chancellor. * Loves 
 of the Angels' and ' Lalla Rookh.' Pro- 
 jected completion of ' Heaven and Earth.' 
 ' The Prophecy of Dante.' Italian enthu- 
 siasm in favour of Dante 221-242
 
 CONTENTS. xvii 
 
 Page 
 Shelley's opinion that the study of Dante 
 
 is unfavourable to writing : the difficulty 
 of translating him : TaafFe and Gary. 
 Lord Byron and ' The Prophecy of Dante.' 
 Swedenhorg's disciples. 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 Keha- 
 ma,' &c. ' Don Juan' and the Iliad. Dr. 
 Johnson's censorship defied. Intended plan 
 of ' Don Juan :' adventures and death of 
 
 the hero •. . . . 242-251 
 
 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' 251-256 
 
 ' The Quarterly Review' and its bullies. A ' 
 literary set-to. MvuTay and Galignani. 
 Murray's purchase of ' Cain,' ' The Two 
 Foscari,' and ' Sardanapalus.' The deed. 
 Reconciliation with Murray. ' Cain,' and 
 
 b
 
 XVlll CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 the Anti-constitutional Society. Murray, 
 Lord Byron, and the 'Navy List/ Last 
 book of Lord Byron's pubhshed by Mur- 
 ray. Opening fire of * The Quarterly.' 
 * The Wanderer. ' Coleridge's ' Christa- 
 bel/ and Scott's ' Metrical Tales.' Sir 
 W. Scott's talents at recitation. An Eng- , 
 lish October day. Unconscious plagiarism. 
 ' Kubla Khan.' Madame de Stael. Cole- 
 ridge's Memoirs. Grammont. Alfieri's 
 Life, and Lor d B.'s Conf essions. Cole- 
 ridge's want of identity. Poets in 1795 . 256-267 
 Intended Auto da fe. Priestly charity. 
 Duchess of Lucca. Lord Guilford. 
 Grand Duke of Tuscany. Intended 
 rescue ; escape of the victim. Madame 
 de Stael and the opposition leaders in 
 England : her uUraisms. Brummell. Re- 
 ported double marriage ; Baron Auguste 
 and Miss Millbank ; Lord B. and the 
 Duchess of Broglie. Madame de Stael's 
 conversational powers. ' Glenarvon.' Ma- 
 dame 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 omis- 
 sion. Rocca 267-279
 
 CONTENTS. Xix 
 
 Page 
 Complaint against the East India Company. 
 
 Lord B.'s liberality. Balloons and Horace. 
 Steam, Philosophical systems. Romances. 
 Lewis's ' Monk :** its groundwork. Secret 
 of Walter Scott's inspiration. ' The Bleed- 
 ing 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 companiability. Monk Lewis 
 and his brother"*s ghost. Madame de Stael, 
 Lewis, and the Slave Trade. A fatal 
 
 emetic 279-293 
 
 Imputed plagiarisms. A dose of Words- 
 worth physic. Shelley's admiration of 
 Wordsworth. Peter Bell's ass, and the 
 family circle. The Republican trio. Com- 
 parisons. The Botany Bay Eclogue, the 
 Panegyric of Martin the Regicide, and ' Wat 
 Tyler,' versus the Laureate odes and the 
 Waterloo eulogium. The par nobile mor- 
 tally wounded. Hogg the Ettrick Shep- 
 herd's * Poetic Mirror.' The ' Rejected 
 Addresses.' Bowles: Coleridge's praise of 
 him inexplicable, Bowles's good fellow- 
 ship : his Madeira woods. Pope's Letters 
 to Martha Blount. The evil attending a
 
 XX CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 punnable name. Lord B.'s partiality to 
 Johnson's Lives of the Poets. No monu- 
 ment to Pope in Poet's Corner : the rea- 
 son. Milton's name in jeopardy. Voltaire's 
 tomb blocked up. Identity of a great poet 
 and a religious man maintained .... 293-302 
 
 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. Scott, the great Un- 
 known : two anecdotes in proof. Scott's ^ 
 prose fatal to his poetry : his versatilttyT'' 
 * Halidon Hill.' Charlatanism in writing 
 incognito. Junius: Sir Philip Francis. His 
 conjiigal felicity and marital affection. 
 Warren Hastings. * Pursuits of Literature.' 
 Monk Lewis and Walter Scott. * The Fire- 
 King' and * Will Jones.' Walter Scott's 
 obligation to Coleridge. His freedom from 
 jealousy 302-310 
 
 Rogers ycleped a Nestor and an Argonaut. 
 Rogers and the Catacombs. I-.ady Mor- 
 gan's ' Italy.' Immortahty of ' The Plea- 
 sures of Memory.' ' Jacqueline' versus 
 ' Lara.' Rogers too fastidious as to his 
 fame. Grand end of all poetry. Lord 
 Byron's ' Corsair.' Love and poets : Mrs. 
 and Shelley ; Miss Stafford and Cre-
 
 CONTENTS. Xxi 
 
 Page 
 billon. Rogers''s dinners and Lady Hol- 
 land. Elegant orientalisms. Poetical os- 
 cillation. Rogei's's sensitiveness. Spots in 
 the sun. Rogers's epigrammatic talent . 310-319 
 Parson N*tt, the would-be Bishop. Warbur- 
 ton'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 hoUpressed 
 darlino^. ' The Corsair.' Polidori. The 
 four trials. An adventurei^-JLieveHTririgh^ 
 life. A rupture. Female espionage : the 
 disguise : a scene. Stanzas^ .... 3 19-330 
 Imputed ingratitude towards a certain per- 
 " sonage ; defence^ Presentation. XJritSean- 
 ing Compliments from the politest man in 
 the world. The Irish Avatara. Lord Ed- 
 ward Fitzgerald ; his adventures ; Ca-ira. 
 The O'Connors. Fate of Lord Edward 
 
 Fitzgerald 330-342 
 
 Query on a line in ' Beppo :' answer. A 
 novel. Florence and Fiorabella's flowers. 
 ' The Giaour' and the sage reviewer. Shel- 
 ley and the bookseller. Sotheby, Edgeworth, 
 Gahgnani, and IVIoore. Intended mystifica- 
 tion. Baron Lutzerode ; his heroic action. 
 Lord Byron's distaste for princes and their 
 satellites. De la Martine's comparison; his
 
 xxii CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 ' Meditations Poetiques.' Harrow the nursery 
 for politicians. Lord Byron's indifference 
 to politics ; his detestation of Castlereagh. 
 Lord Byron's two speeches in the House; 
 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 By- 
 ron''s prospective plans. Greece. The Guic- 
 cioli. Lock of Napoleon's hair. Lord 
 Cai'lisle's poem to Lady Holland on the 
 snuff-box : Lord Byron's parody on it. 
 Epigram on Lord Carlisle, Shelley's ta- 
 lent for poetry ; comparison between his 
 works and Chatterton's. Remarks on 
 
 metres 342-365 
 
 The Reviews. Shelley and Keats. Milman's 
 'Fazio.' 'The Quarterly' and Shelley: 
 Lord Byron's eulogium on the latter. Mil- 
 man's ' Siege of Jerusalem,' and his obliga- 
 tions to Milton. The Quarterly Reviewers. 
 Dryden's cutting couplet. Keats and the 
 Cockneys. Keats's sentimentalism. ' Hy- 
 perion.' Lord Thurlow. ' Lalla Rookh.' 
 Moore and Captain Ellis; instance of an
 
 CONTENTS. XXm 
 
 Page 
 Iricism in the former. * The Lus'iad' and 
 
 Lord Strangford. The Bermuda affair : 
 
 Moore's independence. ' The Fudge Fa^ 
 
 mily -.^ Letter to Big Ben. Moore's immor- 
 
 taUty : the Irish Melodies 365-373 
 
 The Author takes leave of Lord Byron for 
 some time. The affray at Pisa ; French 
 account of it ; the depositions. Banish- 
 ment of the Counts Gamba and Lord By- 
 ron'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 account of 
 the scene. Lord Byron's remedy for a 
 fever : his attachment to the Countess 
 Guiccioli. His first introduction to Leigh 
 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. Pun- 
 ning titles 373-405 
 
 Intention of a trip to America. Civilities 
 from the Americans ; different treatment by 
 an English sloop of war. Lord Byron's 
 naval ancestor. ' Werner.' Miss Lee's 
 ' Canterbury Tales:' the German's Tale.
 
 xxiv CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 / 
 
 *Vathek/ The Cave of Eblis. ' Paul and 
 Virginia.' 'The Man of Feeling:* La 
 Roche. * Werner* written in twenty-eight 
 days ; dedication of ' Werner.' Lord By- 
 ron's curiosity respecting Goethe. * Faust :' 
 Coleridge declines translating it ... . 405-415 
 
 Hobhouse ; commencement of his and Lord 
 Byron's friendship ; similarity of pursuits. 
 Dedication of ' Childe Harold.' Lady 
 Charlotte Harley, Lord Byron's lanthe. 
 Hobhouse's dissertation on Italian litera- 
 ture ; his antiquarian knowledge ; his sen- . 
 sibihty. Lord Byron's time of and facility \ 
 for writing ; his few corrections and surpris- 
 ing memory ; his conversational talent ; his 
 luireserve and sincerity ; his impatience of 
 prohxity and distaste for argument ; his j 
 tendency to extremes ; his inconsistency in ^ 
 pecuniary matters 415-421 
 
 Lord Byron's attack of indolence ; his im- 
 paired digestion ; addicts himself to wine 
 and Hollands. Alleged source of his inspi- 
 ration : the true Hippocrene. The Author 'j 
 takes leave of Lord Byron. Sketch of f 
 Lord Byron's character. Parallel between 
 Alfieri and Lord Byron. The latter's pride 
 of ancestry, and independence of character ; 
 his pohtical sentiments . the Michael Angelo 
 of poetry. True poetical inspiration. The
 
 CONTENTS. XXV 
 
 Page 
 poetical merits of Lord Byron's works. In- 
 vidious cos^nomen of the Satanic school 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 . . 421-430 
 The high admiration of the Germans for 
 Lord Byron : Goethe's tribute to his genius 
 and memory 430-439 
 
 Appendix. — Copia del Rapporto fatto a sua 
 Eccellenza il Sig. Governatore 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 Lord Byron. Greek Proclamation on 
 the death of Lord Byron. Funeral ora- 
 tion, from the Greek. Greek Ode to the 
 Memory of Lord Byron, with Translation . 441-541
 
 CONVEKSATIONS, 
 
 &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 cata- 
 
 B
 
 2 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 logue for the Dogana : seven servants, 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 ; and all 
 his books, consisting of a very large 
 library of modern works, (for he bought 
 all the best that came out,) together with 
 a vast quantity of furniture, might well be 
 termed, with Caesar, " impediments." 
 
 I had long formed a wish to see and 
 be acquainted w ith Lord Byron ; but his 
 known refusal at that time to receive 
 the visits of strangers, even of some who 
 had brought him letters of introduction 
 from the most intimate friend he had, 
 and a prejudice excited against his own 
 countrymen by a late insult, would have
 
 LORD BYROX. 3 
 
 deterred me from seeking an interview 
 with him, had not the proposal come 
 from himself, in consequence of his hear- 
 ing 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 en- 
 tered a hall that seemed built for giants. 
 " I remember the lines in the Inferno/' 
 said I : "a Lanfranchi was one of the 
 persecutors of Ugolino." " The same," 
 answered Shelley ; " you will see a pic- 
 ture of Ugolino and his sons in his 
 room. Fletcher, his valet, is as super- 
 stitious as his master, and says the house 
 is haunted, so that he cannot sleep for 
 
 B 2
 
 4 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 rumblinff noises overhead, which he com- 
 pares to the rolhiig of bowls. No wonder ; 
 old Lanfranchi's ghost is unquiet, and 
 walks at night." 
 
 The palace was of such size, that Lord 
 Byron only occupied 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 Shel- 
 ley. " Don Juan had not a better Lepo- 
 rello, for imitating his master. He says
 
 LORD BYROM. 5 
 
 that he is a Laurel struck by a Metre, 
 and when in Greece remarked upon one 
 of the bas-rehefs of the Parthenon, 
 ' La ! what mantel-pieces these would 
 make, my Lord!' " When we were an- 
 nounced, we found his Lordship writ- 
 ing. 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 stran- 
 " gers — you must allow me to continue my 
 " letter on account of the post. Here 's 
 " something 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, 1 took an
 
 6 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 opportunity of narrowly observing him, 
 and drawing his portrait in my mind.* 
 Thorwaldsen's bust is too thin-necked and 
 
 * Being with him, day after day, some time 
 afterwards, whilst he was sitting to Bertolini, the 
 Florentine sculptor, for his bust, I had an op- 
 portunity of analyzing his featiu'es more criti- 
 cally, but found nothing to alter in my portrait. 
 BertoUni's is an admirable likeness, 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 shoidd 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. BertoUni destroyed his 
 ebauches 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, 1 822.
 
 LORD BYRON. 7 
 
 young for Lord Byron. None of the 
 engravings gave me the least idea of 
 him. 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 symme- 
 trically moulded; for the lips and chin 
 had that curved and definite outline that 
 distinguishes Grecian beauty. His fore- 
 head 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 Csesar's." He allowed it to 
 grow longer behind than it is accustomed 
 to be worn, and at that time had musta- 
 chios, which were not sufficiently dark to 
 be becoming. In criticising his features it
 
 8 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 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 clear- 
 ness, and when animated possessed a fire 
 which seemed to look through and pene- 
 trate the thoughts of others, while they 
 marked the inspirations of his own. His 
 teeth were small, regular, and white ; 
 these, I afterwards found, he took great 
 pains to preserve.* 
 
 I expected to discover that he had a 
 club, perhaps a cloven foot ; but it would 
 have been difficult to have distinguished 
 
 * 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 his sleep, 
 to prevent which he was forced to put a napkin 
 between them.
 
 LOUD BYRON. 9 
 
 one from the other, either in size or in 
 form. 
 
 On the whole, his figure was manly, and 
 his countenance handsome and prepossess- 
 ing, and very expressive ; and the familiar 
 ease of his conversation soon made me per- 
 fectly at home in his society. Our first in- 
 terview was marked with a cordiality and 
 confidence that flattered while it delight- 
 ed 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, without milk or sugar, and an egg, of 
 which he ate the volk raw. I observed 
 the abstemiousness of his meal.
 
 10 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' My digestion is weak; I am too bi- 
 " lious," said he, '* to eat more than once 
 " a-day, and generally live on vegetables. 
 ** 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 11 
 
 * Continent. * One cannot trust to stran- 
 
 * gers to take care of them. Yon will see 
 
 * at the farmer's some of my pea-fowls 
 
 * en 'pension. Fletcher tells me that 
 ' they are almost as bad fellow-travellers 
 ' as the monkey -f , which I will shew 
 
 you. 
 
 Here he led the way to a room, where, 
 after playing with and caressing the crea- 
 ture for some time, he proposed a game 
 of billiards. 
 
 * He says afterwards in " Don Juan," canto X, 
 stanza L. : 
 
 " He had a kind of inclination, or 
 
 Weakness, for what most people deem mere 
 vermin, 
 
 Live animals," 
 
 f He afterwards bought another monkey in 
 Pisa, in the street, because he saw it ill-used.
 
 12 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 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 despotism 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 Pciestum 
 '' cannot surpass the ruins of Agrigen- 
 '' turn, w^hich 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 Symple-
 
 LORD BYRON. 13 
 
 *' gades 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 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. AVhere 
 " 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
 
 14 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " my evening drives — I was accused of 
 " corrupting all the grisettes in the Rue 
 " Basse. I believe that they looked upon 
 ** me as a man-monster, worse than the 
 *' piqueur. 
 
 " 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 Ma- 
 "jesty had been among them. Madame 
 " de Stael took the liberty to read me a 
 " lecture before this crowd ; to which I 
 " only made her a low bow.
 
 LORD BYRON. 15 
 
 " 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 civiUties of one of 
 their Professors 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 pre- 
 vented me from returning in time for 
 dinner. I understand that I offended 
 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 Ge- 
 nevese ; besides, I could not speak 
 French. What is become of my 1)oat-
 
 16 CONVEIISATIONS OF 
 
 " man 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 are both 
 " building now at Genoa, I a yacht, and 
 *' he an open boat." 
 
 We played at billiards till the carriage 
 was announced, and I accompanied him 
 in his drive. Soon after we got off the 
 stones, we mounted our horses, which 
 were waiting for us. Lord Byron is an
 
 LORD BYRON. 17 
 
 admirable horseman, combining grace with 
 the security of his seat. He prides him- 
 self 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 indeed 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 cou- 
 rier. We had each twelve rounds of am- 
 munition, and in a diameter of four inches 
 he put eleven out of twelve shots. I ob- 
 served 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 perhaps the best. The sub- 
 ject turned upon duelling, and he con- 
 tended for its necessity, and quoted some 
 strong arguments in favour of it.
 
 18 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' I have been concerned," said he, " in 
 many duels as second, but only in two 
 as principal; one was with Hobhouse be- 
 fore I became intimate with him. The 
 best marksmen at a target are not the 
 surest in the field. Cecil's and Stack- 
 poole's affair proved this. They fought 
 after a quarrel of three years, during 
 which they were practising daily. Stack- 
 poole was so good a shot that he used 
 to cut off the heads of the fowls for din- 
 ner 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 ?' Shel- 
 ley is a much better shot than I am, but 
 he is thinking of metaphysics rather 
 than of firing."
 
 LORD BYRON. 19 
 
 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 lit- 
 tle fortune. All the pieces struck. Lord 
 Byron keeps to put, as he says, in his 
 museum. 
 
 We now continued our ride, and return- 
 ed to Pisa by the Lucca gate. 
 
 " Pisa with its hano-ino" tower and So- 
 " phia-like dome reminds me," said Lord 
 Byron, " of an eastern place." 
 
 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. 
 
 c 2
 
 « 
 
 (( 
 
 20 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " It is fine," §aid 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 no- 
 " thing without the Venetian sunsets. 
 " Ask Shelley." 
 
 " Stand on the marble bridge," said 
 Shelley, " cast your eye, if you are not daz- 
 zled, 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 sun- 
 set at Pisa." 
 
 The history of one, is that of almost 
 every day. It is impossible to conceive a
 
 LORD BYRON. 21 
 
 more unvaried life than Lord Byron led 
 at this period. I continued to visit him 
 at the same hour daily. Billiards, conver- 
 sation, or reading, filled up the intervals 
 till it was time to take our evening drive, 
 ride, and pistol-practice. On our return, 
 which was always 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, 
 returned 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
 
 22 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 fancied himself, subject. Such was his 
 Hfe at Pisa. 
 
 The Countess Guiccioh is twenty-three 
 years of age, though she appears no more 
 than seventeen or eighteen. Unhke most 
 of the Itahan women, her complexion is 
 delicately fair. Her eyes, large, dark, and 
 languishing, are shaded by the longest eye- 
 lashes 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 regu- 
 larity of outline ; and she has the most 
 beautiful mouth and teeth imaginable. It 
 is impossible to see without admiring — to 
 hear the Guiccioli speak without being
 
 LOUD BYRON. 23 
 
 fascinated. Her amiability and gentleness 
 shew themselves in every intonation of 
 her voice, which, and the music of her per- 
 fect Italian, give a peculiar charm to every 
 thing she utters. Grace and elegance 
 seem component parts of her nature. Not- 
 withstanding that she adores Lord Byron, 
 it is evident that the exile and poverty of 
 her aged father sometimes affect her spi- 
 rits, and throw a shade of melancholy on 
 her countenance, vvhicli 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 au- 
 " thors of her own and the French lan- 
 " guage. She often conceals what she
 
 24 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 at- 
 tached to her, without being actually in 
 love. His description of the Georgioni 
 in the Manfrini palace at Venice is meant 
 for the Countess. The beautiful sonnet 
 j)refixed to the Prophecy of Dante was 
 addressed to her; and I cannot resist 
 copying some stanzas written when he 
 was about to quit Venice to join her at 
 Ravenna, which will describe the state of 
 his feelings at that time.
 
 LORD BYRON. 25 
 
 " 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 mirror 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. 
 
 " 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 — 
 
 * The Po.
 
 26 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 summer'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. 
 
 a 
 
 " 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.
 
 LORD BYRON. 27 
 
 " The wave that l)ears my tears returns no more: 
 " Will she return by whom that wave shall sweep ? 
 " Both tread thy banks, l)ot]i Avander 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 ovir birth. 
 
 " A stranger loves a lady of the land, 
 
 " Born far beyond the mountains, but his blood 
 
 *' Is all meridian, as if never fann'd 
 
 " By the bleak wind that chills the polar flood. 
 
 " ]My blood is all 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 lov«, at least of thee.
 
 28 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " '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.' 
 
 Calling on Lord Byron one evening 
 after the opera, we happened to talk of 
 Cavalier i 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."
 
 LORD BYRON. 29 
 
 " Do yovi know how a girl is brought 
 " up here ?" continued he. " Almost from 
 " infancy she is deprived of the endear- 
 " ments of home, and shut up in a con- 
 " vent 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 ac- 
 *' complishment. Objections are seldom 
 " made on the part of the young lady to 
 " the age, and personal or other defects 
 *' of the intended, who perhaps visits her 
 *' once in the parlour as a matter of form
 
 30 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " or curiosity. She is too happy to get 
 " her liberty 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 
 " intercourse with a world, of which she 
 ** knows and has seen nothing, and unre- 
 " strained mistress of her own time and 
 " actions, she should find somebody to 
 '' like better, and who likes her better, 
 *' than her husband? The Count Guic- 
 " cioli, 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 prepos- 
 " terous connexion ? For some time she 
 " was an Angiolina, and he a Marino 
 
 ii 
 
 i<
 
 LOKD liYEON. 31 
 
 " 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, calcu- 
 '' lating feeling here as in the North. It 
 " is the business, the serious occupation 
 " of their lives ; it is a want, a necessity. 
 " 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 dowagers of sixty 
 
 made love to me.^ — But to return to 
 " the Guiccioli. The old Count did not 
 '* object to her availing herself of the 
 " privileges of her country; an Italian 
 " would have reconciled him to the thin":: 
 " indeed for some time he winked at our 
 " intimacy, but at length made an excep- 
 
 (t 
 
 a
 
 32 CONVEKSATIOKS OF 
 
 " tion against me, as a foreigner, a heretic, 
 *' an Englishman, and, what was worse 
 " than all, a liberal. 
 
 " He insisted — the Guiccioli was as ob- 
 " stinate ; her family took her part. Ca- 
 " tholics cannot get divorces. But, to the 
 " scandal of all Romagna, the matter was 
 *' at length referred to the Pope, who or- 
 '' dered her a separate maintenance, 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 con- 
 " vent for life, which she narrowly escaped. 
 " — Except Greece, I was never so attach- 
 " ed to any place in my life as to Ravenna, 
 " and but for the failure of the Constitu-
 
 LORD BYRON. 33 
 
 *' tionalists and this fracas, should pro- 
 " bably never have left it. The peasan- 
 " try are the best people in the world, 
 " and the beauty of their women is ex- 
 " traordinary. Those at Tivoli and Fres- 
 " cati, who are so much vaunted, are 
 " mere Sabhies, coarse creatures, com- 
 " pared to the Romagnese. You may 
 " talk of your English women, and it is 
 " true that out of one hundred Italians 
 " and English 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. I have learnt 
 " more from the peasantry of the coun- 
 *' tries I have travelled in than from any 
 
 D
 
 34 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " other source, especially from the wo- 
 '* men* : they are more intelligent, as 
 " well as communicative, than the men. 
 " I found also at Ravenna much educa- 
 " tion and liberality of thinking among 
 *' the higher classes. The climate is de- 
 " lightful. I was unbroken in upon by 
 " society. It lies out of the way of tra- 
 " vellers. I was never tired of my rides 
 " in the pine-forest : it breathes of the 
 " Decameron ; it is poetical ground. 
 " Francesca lived, and Dante was exiled 
 
 * " Female hearts are such a genial soil 
 
 " For kinder feeling, whatsoe'er their nation, 
 " They generally pour the wine and oil, 
 " Samaritans in every situation." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto V. Stanza 122.
 
 LORD BYRON. 35 
 
 " and died at Ravenna. There is some- 
 " thing inspiring in such an air. * 
 
 * 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 Ciesarean fortress stood, 
 
 " Evergreen forest ! which Boccaccio's lore 
 
 " And Dryden's lay made haunted ground to me, 
 
 " How have I loved the twilight hour 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 y Canto III. vStanza 105. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 CONVERSATIONS OK 
 
 " 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 
 '' liherty, and wished well to their cause. 
 " I would have espoused it too, and as- 
 '' sisted them to shake oif their fetters. 
 " They knew my character, for I had been 
 " living two years at Venice, where many 
 " of the Ravennese have houses. I did 
 " not, however, take part in their intrigues, 
 " nor join in their political 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 Carig- 
 " nan's imbecility ! I could have pardon- 
 *' ed him that too, if he had not impeached 
 " his partisans. The proscription was im- 
 *' mense in Romagna, and embraced many
 
 (t 
 
 LORD BYRON. 37 
 
 " of the first nobles : almost all my friends, 
 among the rest the Gambas, were in- 
 " eluded in it. They were exiled, and 
 " their possessions confiscated. They 
 " knew that this must eventually drive 
 " me out of the country. I did not fol- 
 " low 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 be- 
 " tray. I had received a very high de- 
 " gree, 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 discontinue my forest rides ; but I 
 entertained no apprehensions of treacli- 
 
 ^- v/ ii a X) 
 
 K
 
 38 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' ery, and was more on horseback than 
 ' ever. 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 oc- 
 ' curred at this time at Ravenna that 
 ' made a deep impression on me ; I al- 
 ' luded to it in ' Don Juan.' The mili- 
 ' tary 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 murderer prove 
 ' the assassination to have taken place by 
 ' order of the police. I had my foot in 
 * the stirrup at my usual hour of exer- 
 ' cise, when my horse started at the
 
 LORD BYRON. 39 
 
 " report of a gun. On looking up I 
 " perceived a man throw down a carbine 
 " and run away at full speed, and ano- 
 " ther 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 col- 
 " lected, 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 re- 
 " presented 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 humanity and 
 " danger. I assisted in bearing him into 
 " the house, and putting him on a bed. 
 " He was already dead from several 
 " wounds ; he appeared to have breathed
 
 40 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 re- 
 " member saying, ' Here are 2000/. for 
 " you, my young friend.' I made one 
 " reservation in the gift, — that they were 
 " not to be published 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 41 
 
 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 tran- 
 scribed the whole work. This was un 
 peu fort, and he suggested 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 recommend- 
 ing 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 licentious adventures of 
 my own, or scandalous anecdotes that 
 will affect others, in the book. It is 
 taken up from my earliest recollections.
 
 42 CONVEKSATIONS OF 
 
 " almost from childhood, — very incohe- 
 " rent, written in a very loose and fami- 
 *' liar 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 vv^omen." 
 
 Another time he said : 
 
 " A very full account of my marriage 
 " and separation is contained in my Me- 
 " moirs. 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
 
 cc 
 
 (I 
 
 LORD l^YRON. 43 
 
 " her answer she dechned tlie offer, with- 
 out assigning any reason ; but desiring, 
 ' if not on her account, for the sake of 
 her daughter, that they might never 
 " appear, and finishing with a threat. My 
 " reply was the severest thing I ever 
 " wrote, and contained two quotations, 
 " one from Shakspeare, and another 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 depositary of 
 " the MS. 
 
 (( '■ 
 
 The first time of my seeing Miss 
 
 * J could not retain thcni.
 
 44 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Millbank was at Lady 's. It 
 
 " was a fatal day; and I remember that 
 " in going upstairs I stumbled, and re- 
 " marked 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 as- 
 " sembly, 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 pro- 
 " ceeded ; ' you had better marry her, 
 *' and repair the old place, Newstead.' 
 
 " There was something piquant, and 
 " what we term pretty, in Miss Millbank. 
 " Her features were small and feminine, 
 " though not regular. She had the fairest
 
 LORD BYRON. 45 
 
 " skin imaginable. Her figure was per- 
 " feet for her height, and there was a sim- 
 *' phcity, a retired modesty about her, 
 " which was very characteristic, and form- 
 " ed a happy contrast to the cold artificial 
 " formality, and studied stiffness, which is 
 " called fashion. She interested me ex- 
 " ceedingly. It is unnecessary to detail 
 '* the progress of our acquaintance. 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
 
 46 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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. Wil- 
 " liams, that twenty-seven was to be a 
 " dangerous age for me. The fortune- 
 *' telling witch was right ; it was destiiied 
 *' to prove so. I shall never forget the 
 " 2d of January ! Lady Byron (Byrn, he 
 *' pronounced it) w^as the only uncon- 
 *' cerned person present; Lady Noel, her 
 *' mother, cried ; I trembled like a leaf, 
 " made the wrong responses, and after the 
 *' ceremony called her Miss Millbank. 
 
 *' There is a singular history attached 
 ** to the ring. The very day the match 
 *' was concluded, a ring of my mother's,
 
 LORD BYRON. 47 
 
 *' 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 doom- 
 " ed 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 arrangements 
 " for the journey, and somewhat out of 
 " humour to find a lady's-maid stuck be- 
 ^* tween me and my bride. It was rather 
 " too early to assume the husband ; so 
 
 * 
 
 -" Save the rinn;. 
 
 " Which, being the damned'st part of matri- 
 mony — " 
 
 Don Juan. Canto IX. Stanza 70.
 
 (( 
 
 48 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I was 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 accused of saying, on get- 
 ting into the carriage, that I had mar- 
 " ried 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 in- 
 " stantly 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 sun- 
 
 '' shine ; it had its clouds : and Hob- 
 
 it 
 
 a
 
 LORD BYRON. 49 
 
 house has some letters which would 
 " serve to explain the rise and fall in the 
 barometer,— but it was never down at 
 
 « 
 
 t< 
 
 " 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 be- 
 " sjjoke. Newstead was a very unprofit- 
 " able estate, and brought me in 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 tow^n, gave din- 
 " ner-parties, had separate carriagen, and 
 
 £
 
 50 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 launched into every sort of extrava- 
 gance. 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 plea- 
 sant 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 : you will think it beffan ridi- 
 culously enough, — 'Dear Duck ! '* 
 
 * Shelley, who knew this story, used to say 
 these two words would look odd in an Itahun 
 transltition, Aaitra caruniina.
 
 LORD BYRON. 51 
 
 " Imagine my astonisliment to receive, 
 
 * immediately on lier arrival in London, 
 ' a few lines from her father, of a very 
 
 * dry and unaffectionate nature, begin- 
 ' ning ' Sir,' and ending with saying 
 ' that his daughter should never see me 
 
 * again. 
 
 " In my reply I disclaimed his au- 
 ' thority, as a parent, over my wife, and 
 ' told him I was convinced the sen- 
 ' tinients expressed were his, not hers. 
 ' Another post, however, brought me a 
 ' confirmation (under her own hand and 
 ' seal) of her father's sentence. I after- 
 ' wards learnt from Fletcher's (my valet's) 
 ' wife, who was at that time fanme-de- 
 ' chambre to Lady Byron, that after her 
 ' definite resolution was taken, and the 
 ' fatal letter consigned to the post-ofhce, 
 
 E 2
 
 52 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' 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 
 " assigned for this sudden resolution ? — 
 
 if I formed no conjecture about the 
 
 cause ? I will tell you. 
 
 ({ 
 
 (( 
 
 (t 
 
 iC 
 
 " I have prejudices about women: I 
 '' do not like to see them eat. Rousseau 
 makes Julie im pen gourmaiide ; but that 
 is not at all according to my taste. I 
 " do not like to be interrupted when I am 
 " writing. Lady Byron did not attend to 
 " these whims of mine. The only harsh 
 *' thing I ever remember saying to her
 
 LORD BYRON. 53 
 
 * 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 repHed, 'Damnably!' I was after- 
 
 * wards sorry, and reproached myself for 
 ' the expression : but it escaped me 
 ' unconsciously — involuntarily ; I hardly 
 
 * knew what I said. 
 
 '* I heard afterwards that Mrs. Charl- 
 " ment 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 re- 
 " ported having traced me into a house 
 ** in Portland-place. There was one act 
 *' of which I might justly have complain-
 
 54 CONVEIISATIONS OF 
 
 ed, and which was unworthy of any 
 one but such a confidante : I aUude to 
 the breaking open my writing-desk. A 
 book was found in it that did not do 
 much credit to my taste in Hterature, 
 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 breach 
 of confidence that led to their dis- 
 covery. Lady Byron sent them to the 
 husband of the lady, who had the good 
 sense to take no notice of their con- 
 tents. 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 un- 
 founded calumny. Being on the Com-
 
 LORD BYRON. 55 
 
 " mittee 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 ac- 
 " quainted (to speak) with her. I might 
 " even make a more serious charge against 
 
 " • than employing spies to watch 
 
 " suspected amours, * * * 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ v ^ 
 
 ^ * * * * * * 
 
 7|r tF ^p ^ ^f T^ 
 
 " 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 afterwards the real ob-
 
 56 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 "ject of their visit. I thought their 
 *' questions singular, frivolous, and some- 
 " what importunate, if not impertinent : 
 " but what should I have thought, if I 
 " had known that they were sent to 
 " provide proofs of my insanity ? * 
 
 ^ ^ ^ * « « 
 
 * * * * 
 
 (t) 
 
 (f) " For Inez call'd some druggists and phy- 
 sicians, 
 " 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 could be had, 
 " Save that her duty both to man and God 
 *' Required this conduct, — which seem'd very 
 
 odd. 
 
 "She
 
 LORD BYRON. 57 
 
 ** I have no doubt that my answers 
 ' to these emissaries' interrogations were 
 ' not very rational or consistent, for my 
 ' imagination was heated by other things. 
 
 * But Dr. Bailey could not conscien- 
 
 * tiously make me out a certificate for 
 
 * Bedlam ; and perhaps the Lawyer gave 
 ' a more favourable report to his employ- 
 ' ers. The Doctor said afterwards, he 
 ' had been told that I always looked 
 
 *' She kept a journal where his faults were 
 
 noted, 
 " And opened certain tninks of books and 
 
 letters, 
 " All which might, if occasion served, be 
 
 quoted : 
 " And then she had aU Seville for abettors, 
 " Besides her good old grandmother ." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto I. Stanzas 27 and 28.
 
 58 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " down when Lady Bj^'on bent her eyes 
 " on me, and exhibited other symptoms 
 " 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 deceMcy 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 you 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 j^ain, which I could not avoid 
 " shewing. ' It will do you good/ said 
 " Lady Noel ; ' I am glad of it !' I gave 
 " her a look !
 
 LORD liYKON. 59 
 
 " You ask if Lady Byron were ever in 
 " love with ine — I have answered that 
 *' question ah'eady — 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 va- 
 " nity, and the hope of reforming and 
 " fixing me. She was a spoiled child, 
 *' and naturally of a jealous disposition ; 
 " and this was increased by the infernal 
 " machinations of those in her confi- 
 " dence. 
 
 " She was easily made the dupe of 
 " the designing, for she thought her 
 " knowledge of mankind infallible : she 
 " had got some foohsh idea of Madame 
 " de Stael's into her head, that a per- 
 " son may be bettor known in the first
 
 60 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 pos- 
 " sible. 
 
 " Lady Byron had good ideas, but 
 " coukl never express them ; wrote poe- 
 *' try 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 prin- 
 " ciples, squared mathematically.* She 
 " would have made an excellent wrangler 
 
 * " I think that Dante's more abstruse ecstatics 
 " Meant to personify the mathematics." 
 
 Don JuaUy Canto III. Stanza 1 1 .
 
 LOUD KYRON. 61 
 
 " at Cambridge. It must be confess- 
 *' ed, 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 opprobrium 
 " that were cast upon my name when 
 " our separation was made public. I 
 " once made a hst 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, Hehoga- 
 " balus, 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
 
 V 
 
 62 CONVEllSATlONiJ Ul' 
 
 " 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 per- 
 " fections 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 thea- 
 " tre, whence the unfortunate Mrs. Mar- 
 '* dyn had been driven with insult. The 
 " Examiner was the only paper that 
 '* 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.Ol^D BYRON. 63 
 
 " I once addressed some lines to her 
 " that made her my friend ever after. 
 " The suhject of them was suggested by 
 " her being excluded from a certain ca- 
 " binet 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 mother's life- 
 " time. As it is, I shall never forgive 
 " myself for having done so ; though I 
 " 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
 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
 64 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " having parted with the old abbey.* I 
 *' did not make up ray mind to this 
 '* 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 moment I had put 
 my affairs in train, and in little more 
 than eighteen months after my marri- 
 " age, I left England, an involuntary 
 *' exile, intending it should be for ever -f-." 
 
 * The regard which he entertained for it is 
 proved by the passage in Do?i Juan, Canto XIII. 
 Stanza 55, beginning thus: ^ 
 
 " To Norman Abbey whirl'd the noble pair," &;c. 
 
 t His feelings may be conceived by the two 
 following passages : 
 
 " I can't
 
 LOUD BYRON. 65 
 
 Speaking of the multitude of strangers, 
 whose visits of curiosity or impertinence 
 he was harassed by for 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 
 
 ** 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." — 
 
 Don Juan, Canto II. Stanza 1 2. 
 
 ** Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, 
 *' With nought of hope left." 
 
 Childe Harold, Canto III. Stanza 1 0. 
 
 F
 
 66 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' the world should trouble itself about 
 ' what they thought. She had herself 
 ' a most unconscionable insatiability 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 indif- 
 ' ferent 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
 
 (( 
 
 LORD BYRON. 67 
 
 abuse and personality, but he should 
 " have minded his ledger ; he never ex- 
 " cited my spleen.* I was confirmed in 
 " my resolution of shutting my door 
 " against all the travelling English by the 
 " impertinence of an anonymous scrib- 
 
 * The taste and critical acumen of the Ame- 
 rican magazine will appear from the following 
 extract : 
 
 " The verses (it is of ' The Prisoner of Chillon ' 
 " that it speaks) are in the eight syllable mea- 
 " sure, and occasionally display some pretty 
 *' poetry ; at all events, there is little in tliem 
 " to offend. 
 
 " We do not find any passage of sufficient 
 " beauty or originality to wan-ant extract." 
 
 Am. Critical Review, 1817. 
 f2
 
 68 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 '' bier, 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 spin- 
 ster should have avoided associating 
 with so dangerous an acquaintance as 
 you had the character of being at Ve- 
 nice. 
 
 *' Well, I did not know that these 
 " ' Sketches of Italy' were the produc- 
 *' tion 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."
 
 LORD BYRON. 69 
 
 " Yes," said I, " if you were to be 
 canonized, it must be as San Ciappel- 
 letto/' 
 
 " Not so bad as that either," said he 
 somewhat seriously. 
 
 " Venice," resumed he, "is a melan- 
 " choly 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 ex- 
 " cellent lesson for youth. You are too 
 " old to profit by it. But, who ever pro-
 
 70 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " iited 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 in- 
 " structive." 
 
 I said, '' I suppose, when you left Eng- 
 land, you were a Childe 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,
 
 LORD BYRON. 71 
 
 " or in tlie 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 pre- 
 '' sent race is more steady than the last. 
 " They have less constitution and not so 
 
 much money — that accounts for the 
 " change in their morals. 
 
 '* I am now tamed ; but before I mar- 
 " ried, 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 dis- 
 " order. 
 
 <( 
 
 €t
 
 72 CONVERSATIONS OK 
 
 *' 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 mo- 
 " nitor, and Napoleon many warnings. 
 *' At the last moment I would have re- 
 " treated, if I could have done so. I 
 " called to mind a friend of mine, who 
 " had married 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 73 
 
 " fifty guineas to one, that I should ahvays 
 " 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 your father !' 
 " It was very different from Mrs. Mal- 
 " aprop'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 ' Caslebs 
 '' in search of a wife.' He would have
 
 74 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' made a bad hero for Hannah More. 
 '' He ran out three fortunes, and mar- 
 " ried or ran away with three women, 
 " and once wanted a gumea, that he 
 " wrote for ; I have the note. He seem- 
 " ed 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 
 
 ((
 
 LORD BYRON. 75 
 
 forehead, on which he prided himself,) 
 " are strongly developed in the hinder 
 " part of my cranium ; particularly that 
 '* called philoprogenitiveness *. I sup- 
 " pose, 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 melancholy 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 used to whip them with 
 
 # 
 
 He appears to have mistaken the meaning 
 of this word in the vocabulary of the Craniologists, 
 as in Don Juan.
 
 cc 
 
 ei 
 
 76 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 think that 
 " there is more in a chart of the skull 
 " than the Edinburgh Reviewers sup- 
 " pose*. However that may be, I was 
 " a wayward youth, and gave my mother 
 " a world of trouble, — as I fear Ada will 
 " hers, for I am told she is a little ter- 
 magant. I had an ancestor too that 
 '' expired laughing, (I suppose that my 
 " good spirits came from him,) and two 
 " whose affection was such for each 
 
 * He had probably been reading the article on 
 Gall and Spurzheim. 
 
 ((
 
 LORD BYRON. 77 
 
 " other, that they died almost at the 
 " same moment. 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 aiFec- 
 " tion 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 Edin- 
 " burgh Review' on * The Hours of Idle- 
 
 Note. — He wrote about this time ' The Curse 
 of Minerva ;' in which he seems very closely to 
 have followed Churchill. 
 
 He came to England in 1798.
 
 78 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " ness/ 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 poetical 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 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 vaca- 
 " tions at Newstead. It was there that I
 
 LORD BYRON. 79 
 
 " first saw Mary C *. She was se- 
 
 " veral 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 
 
 « T 
 
 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 feeUngs changed, Imt 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
 
 80 CONVERSATIONS 0¥ 
 
 " the feud to which I before alhided, our 
 " famihes (as is generally the case with 
 " neighbours who happen to be relations,) 
 " were never on terms of more than com- 
 *' mon 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 
 
 " Yet still, 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 me the pure feelings gone for ever ! 
 " 'Twas the boy's * mite,' and, Hke the ' widow's,' 
 may, 
 Perhaps, be weighed hereafter, if not now." 
 
 Do?i Juan, Canto VI. Stanza 5, &c. 
 
 <ii
 
 LORD BYRON. 81 
 
 *' of beautiful ; and I have taken all my 
 " fables about the celestial nature of wo- 
 " men from the perfection my imagina- 
 *' tion created in her — 1 say created, for 
 " 1 found her, like 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 man, and to make love in 
 " earnest. Our meetings were stolen 
 *' ones, and my letters passed through the 
 " medium of a confidante. A gate lead- 
 
 " ing 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 vola- 
 " tile. Sh€ liked me as a younger brother, 
 
 G
 
 82 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " and treated and laughed at me as a 
 " boy. She, however, gave me her pic- 
 " ture, 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-aifair. I had, besides, a 
 *' spirit that ill brooked the restraints of 
 " school-discipline ; for I had been en^ 
 *' couraged by servants in all my violence 
 
 * He had always a black ribbon round his 
 neck, to which was attached a locket containing 
 hair and a picture. We had been playing at bil- 
 liards one night till the balls appeared double, 
 when all at once he searched hastily for some- 
 thing under his waistcoat, and said, in great 
 
 alarm, " Good God ! I have lost my !" 
 
 but before he had finished the sentence, he dis- 
 covered the hidden treasure.
 
 LORD BYKON. 83 
 
 '' of temper, and was used to command. 
 *' 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 difficulty ; 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 
 
 * See Lines addressed to him in ' The Hoiu's 
 of Idkniess.' 
 
 G 2
 
 84 CONVEKSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 him ever since I knew he was in 
 " Italy; and look forward to seeing him, 
 " and talking over with him our old Har- 
 " row stories, with infinite dehght. There 
 " is no pleasure in life equal to that of 
 '' meeting an old friend. You know how 
 *' glad I was to see Hay. Why did not 
 " Scroope 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 :
 
 LORD BYRON. 85 
 
 " I fought Lord Calthorpe for writing 
 " ' D— d Atlieist !' under my name ; and 
 *' prevented the school-room from being 
 " burnt during a rebeUion, by pointing 
 " out to the boys the names of their fa- 
 " thers and grandfathers on the walls. 
 
 ** Had I married Miss C , perhaps 
 
 " the whole tenor of my life would have 
 " been different.* She jilted me, how- 
 '* ever, but her marriage proved any thing 
 ** but a happy one.-f- She was at length 
 
 * Perhaps in his lyrical pieces, even those ' To 
 Thyi'za,' he never surpassed those exquisitely 
 feehng Stanzas, beginning — 
 " O had my fate been join'd to thine," &c. 
 
 I " the one 
 
 " To end in madness ; both in misery." 
 
 Tht Dream.
 
 86 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' separated from Mr. M , and pro- 
 
 ' posed 'an interview with me, but by 
 ' the advice of mv sister 1 declined it. 
 ' I remember meeting her after my re- 
 ' turn from Greece, but pride had con- 
 ' quered my love; and yet it was not 
 ' with perfect indifference I saw her.* 
 
 " For a man to become a poet (wit- 
 " ness 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. 
 
 * Yet I was calm. 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 !
 
 T.OPvD BYRON. 87 
 
 " For some years after the event that 
 " liad so much influence on my fate, I 
 " tried to drown the remembrance of it 
 ** and her in the most depraving dissi- 
 '* pation ; -f but the poison was in the cup. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 " There had been found by the gar- 
 " dener, in digging, a skull that had pro- 
 " bably belonged to some jolly friar or 
 " monk of the Abbey about the time it 
 ** was dis-monasteried." 
 
 " I heard at the Countess S- 
 
 f " And monks might deem their time was 
 come agen, 
 *' If ancient tales say true, nor \\-rong the 
 holy men." 
 
 Cliilde Harold, Canto I. Stanza 7.
 
 88 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 the other evening," said I, interrupting 
 him, " that you drink out of a skull 
 now." He took no notice of mv ob- 
 servation, but continued : 
 
 " 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 re- 
 " turned with a very high polish, and of 
 " a mottled colour like tortoise-shell ; 
 *' (Colonel Wildman now has it.) I re- 
 " member scribbling some lines about it ; 
 " but that was not all : I afterwards esta- 
 " blished at the Abbey a new order. 
 " The members consisted of twelve, and 
 " I elected myself grand master, or Ab- 
 " hot of the Skull, a grand heraldic title. 
 *' A set of black gowns, mine distin-
 
 LOJID BYRON. 89 
 
 " Squished 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 imitation of the Goths of old, 
 " passed about to the gods of the Con- 
 " sistory, whilst many a prime joke was 
 " cut at its expense." 
 
 " You seem," said I, " to have had a 
 particular predilection 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."
 
 90 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Talking of Morat," said I, " where 
 did you find the story of Juha Alpi- 
 
 nula? M and I searched among its 
 
 archives in vain." 
 
 " I took the inscription," said he, " from 
 ' an old chronicle ; 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 (Oran Hanton, Esq.) the hero 
 ' of a novel, had him created a baronet, 
 
 ' and returned for the borough of One
 
 I-ORD BYTIOX. <)l 
 
 " ^^ote — T forget the name of the novel *. 
 " I believe they were as glad to get rid 
 " of me at Cambridge -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 w^oman. 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 
 
 * Melincoiirt. 
 f He remained at Cambridge till nineteen.
 
 92 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " P. S. was excellent. * With dilicaci 
 " every thing may be made 057/.' But 
 " the same post brought me a letter from 
 " the young one deprecating my taking 
 " advantage of their necessities, and end- 
 " ing with saying that she prized her 
 " virtue. 1 respected it too, and sent her 
 " some money. There are few Josephs in 
 *' the world, and many Potiphar's wives. 
 
 " 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 hap- 
 " pened 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 !
 
 LORD BYRON. 93 
 
 " 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 knew it. 
 
 " There was a lady at that time, dou- 
 " ble my own age, the mother of several 
 " children who were perfect angels, with 
 *' whom I had formed a liaison that conti- 
 " nued 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
 
 94 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " bestowed her favours on many ; but I 
 " was flattered at a preference that had 
 '* led her to discard another, who in 
 *' personal attractions and fashion was far 
 " my superior. She had been sacrificed, 
 " almost before she was a woman, to one 
 " whose mind and body were equally con- 
 " temptible in the scale of creation ; and 
 *' on whom she bestowed a numerous fa- 
 *' mily, to which the law gave him the 
 " right to be called father. Strange as 
 " it may seem, she gained (as all women 
 *' do) an influence over me so strong, 
 " that I had great difficulty in breaking 
 " with her, even when 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 95 
 
 " lounger— a great man at lobbies, coffee, 
 " and gambling-houses : my afternoons 
 " were passed in visits, luncheons, loung- 
 " ing and boxing— not to mention drink- 
 " ing ! If I had known you in early life, 
 " you would not have been alive now. I 
 
 " remember Scroope Davies, H , and 
 
 " myself, 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 fozt)l; and after- 
 " wards getting drunk together till H. 
 " and S. D. quarrelled, Scroope after- 
 " wards wrote to me for my pistols to 
 " shoot himself; but I declined lending 
 *' them, on the plea that they would be 
 " forfeited as a deodand. I knew my an- 
 " swer would have more effect than four 
 " sides of prosing.
 
 (( 
 
 n 
 
 96 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Don't suppose, however, that 1 took 
 " any pleasure m all these excesses, or 
 that parson A. K. or W— were associ- 
 ates to my taste. The miserable conse- 
 " quences 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 strongest, with a 
 " fortune antici23ated before I came into 
 " possession of it, and a constitution im- 
 ** paired by early excesses, I commenced 
 *' my travels in 1809, with a joyless indif- 
 " ference to a world that was all before 
 
 " me*. 
 
 * " I wish they knew the life of a young noble ; 
 ****** 
 
 " They 're young, but know not youth : it is 
 anticipated ;
 
 LORD BYRON. 97 
 
 " Well might you say, speaking feel- 
 ingly," said I :— 
 
 " There is no sterner moralist tlian pleasure *." 
 
 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. 
 
 " Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou ; 
 " Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated, 
 *' Theii- cash comes from, their wealth goes to a 
 Jew." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto XL Stanzas 74 and 75. 
 
 * He used to say there were three great men 
 ruined in one year, Brummel, himself, and Na- 
 poleon ! 
 
 H
 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
 98 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " was every night at the opera, a constant 
 " 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 gon- 
 dolas, its effeminating indolence, its 
 " Siroccos, — tend to enervate 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 cir- 
 culated 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 horse- 
 man, was riding one evening in the Brenta,
 
 LORD BYRON. 99 
 
 " I wrote little at Venice, and was forced 
 " into the search of pleasure,— an employ- 
 " ment I was soon jaded with the pur- 
 " suit of 
 
 " Women were there, as they have ever 
 " been fated to be, my bane. Like Na- 
 '' poleon, I have always had a great con- 
 
 spouting * Metastasio.' A Venetian, passing in a 
 close carriage at the time, laughed at his bad 
 ItaUan ; upon which his Lordship horsewhipped 
 him, and threw a card in at the window. The 
 nobleman took no notice of the insult." — 
 Answer. Lord Byron was an excellent horse- 
 man, never read a line of ' Metastasio,' and pro- 
 nounced Italian like a native. He must have 
 been remarkably ingenious to horsewhip in a 
 close carriage^ and find a nobleman who pocketed 
 the affront ! But " ex uno disce omnesy 
 
 H 2
 
 1 00 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " tempt 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 
 " imagination has always delighted in giv- 
 " ing them a bemi ideal likeness, but I only 
 " drew them as a painter or statuary 
 " would do, — as they should be.* Per- 
 " haps my prejudices, and keeping them 
 " at a distance, contributed to prevent the 
 
 * His ' Medora, Gulnare (Kaled), Zideika, 
 Thyrza, Angiolina, Myrrha, Adah, — and Haidee,' 
 in Don Juan, are beautiful creations of gentleness, 
 sensibility, firmness, and constancy. If, as a re- 
 \dewer has sagely discovered, all his male charac- 
 ters, from Childe Harold down to Lucifer, are 
 the same, he cannot be denied the dramatic fa- 
 cvdty in his women, — in whom there is little 
 family likeness.
 
 LORD BYRON. 101 
 
 '* illusion from altogether being worn out 
 " and destroyed as to their celestial 
 " qualities. 
 
 " They are in an unnatural state of so- 
 " ciety. 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 A:night-service of the Continent, 
 " with or without the k, is perhaps a sla- 
 " very as bad, or worse, than either. An
 
 102 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 an- 
 ** noyances. You may remember seeing 
 " the portrait of a female which Murray 
 " got engraved, and dubbed my ' For- 
 *' narina.' 
 
 " 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 might sit to him. She 
 " did so, and I sent the diawing home as a 
 " specimen of the Venetians, and not a bad
 
 LORD BYRON. | 03 
 
 " 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 out- 
 '' side 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 her- 
 " self 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
 
 104 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 Venice, 
 " 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 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 life I led at 
 *' Venice, and was glad to turn my back 
 " on it. The Austrian Government, too, 
 " partly contributed to drive me away. 
 *' They intercepted my books and papers, 
 *' opened my letters, and proscribed my 
 
 li 
 
 f(
 
 LORD BYRON. 105 
 
 " works. I was not sorry for this last 
 " arbitrary 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 con- 
 tradictory 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 inclined to think that 
 if he were occasionally sceptical, and 
 thought it, as he says,
 
 J 06 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " A pleasant voyage, perhaps, to float, 
 
 " Like Pyrrho, on a sea of speculation," * 
 
 yet his wavering never amounted to a 
 ^/ disbelief in the divine Founder of Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 " I always took great delight," observ- 
 ed he, ** in the English Cathedral ser- 
 " vice. It cannot fail to inspire every 
 " man, who feels at all, with devotion. 
 " Notwithstanding which, Christianity is 
 " not the best source of inspiration for a 
 " poet. No poet should be tied down to 
 " a direct profession of faith. Metaphysics 
 *' open a vast field ; Nature, and anti-Mo- 
 " saical speculations on the origin of the 
 " world, a wide range, and sources of 
 
 * Don Juan, Canto IX. Stanza Jb.
 
 LORD BYRON. 107 
 
 " poetry that are shut out by Chris- 
 " tianity." 
 
 I advanced Tasso and Milton. 
 
 " Tasso and Milton," replied he, ** wrote 
 *' on Christian subjects, it is true ; but 
 '' how did they treat them ? The ' Jeru- 
 " salem Delivered ' deals little in Christian 
 " doctrines, and the ' Paradise Lost' yiakes 
 " use of the heathen mythology, which is 
 " surely scarcely allowable. Milton dis- 
 " carded papacy, and adopted no creed 
 " in its room ; he never attended divine 
 *^ worship. 
 
 " 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
 
 108 CONVERSATIONS Ol' 
 
 " Catholics, as he did those of the 
 '* Divines of his day, by too great a 
 *' famiharity with Heaven, and the in- 
 " troduction of the Divinity himself; and, 
 '* more than all, by making the Devil 
 " his hero, and deifying the dtemons. 
 
 " He certainly excites compassion for 
 "■ Satan, and endeavours 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 Mil- 
 " ton 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 
 
 * A religious work of Milton's has since been 
 discovered, and will throw light on this interesting 
 subject.
 
 LORD BYRON. 109 
 
 " me on this point. One might as well 
 " say that Moore is a fire- worshipper, or 
 '* a follower of Mokanna, because he 
 " chose those subjects from the East ; or 
 " that I am a Cainist." 
 
 Another time he said : 
 
 " One mode of worship yields to an- 
 " other ; no religion has lasted more than 
 *' two thousand years. Out of the eight 
 *' hundred millions that the globe con- 
 " tains, only two hundred millions are 
 " Christians. Query,— What is to be- 
 " come of the six hundred millions that 
 " do not believe, and of those incalcu- 
 " lable millions that lived before Christ ? 
 
 " People at home are mad about Mis- 
 " sionary Societies, and missions to the
 
 110 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " East. I have been applied to, to sub- 
 " scribe, several times since, and once 
 " before I left England. The Catholic 
 " priests have been labouring hard for 
 " nearly a century ; but what have they 
 " done ? Out of eighty millions of Hin- 
 , " doos, how many proselytes have been 
 *' made ? Sir J. Malcolm said at Mur- 
 " ray'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 In- 
 " dians only know to despise, have had 
 *' one. It is nine to one against them, 
 " by their own shewing. 
 
 t{ 
 
 u
 
 a 
 
 i( 
 
 LORD BYRON. 1 1 1 
 
 *' 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 content with one ; besides, a wo- 
 " man 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 Tenta- 
 " zione di Sant' Antonio. There is a pic- 
 ture, a celebrated one, in which a little 
 woman not unresembling my description 
 " plays the principal 74le, 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 mar- 
 " tyrdom. 
 
 (( 
 
 ((
 
 112 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I have been reading," said he one day, 
 *' Tacitus' account of the siege of Jeru- 
 " saleni, 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. 
 
 ** The best Christians can never be sa- 
 *' tisfied of their own salvation. Dr. John- 
 ** son died like a coward, and Cowper 
 " was near shooting himself; Hume went 
 *' oiF the stage like a brave man, and Vol- 
 " taire's last moments do not seem to have
 
 LORD BYRON. 113 
 
 '* been clouded by any fears of what was 
 *' to come. A man may study any thing i 
 ** till he believes in it. Creech died a t 
 " Lucretian, Burckhardt and Browne were 
 *' Mohammedans. Sale, tlie 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 Manicha?an : 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 ?" 
 
 * Alluding to the ' Revolt of Islam.' 
 
 I
 
 114 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Calling on him the next day, we found 
 him, as was sometimes the case, silent, 
 dull, and sombre. At length he said : 
 
 " Here is a little book somebody has 
 " sent me about Christianity, that has 
 " made me very uncomfortable : the rea- 
 *' soning 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 De- 
 " cline and Fall,' but I am not so easily 
 " convinced. It is not a matter of volition 
 " to unbelieve. ^^lo likes to own that
 
 LORD BYRON. 115 
 
 "he has been a fool all his life,— to un- 
 " learn all that he has been tauirht 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 comfortable doctrine ; 1 won- 
 " der 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 princi- 
 " pies ; — why not in the Trinity ? One 
 " is not more mystical than the other. 
 " I don't knov, why I am considered an 
 " enemy to religion, and an unbeliever. 
 " I disowned the other dav that I was 
 " of Shelley's school in metaphysics, 
 
 I 2
 
 1 16 CONA'ERSATIONS OF 
 
 though I admired his poetry; not but 
 what he has changed his mode of think- 
 ing 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 infideh My 
 wife and sister, when they joined par- 
 ties, sent me prayer-books. There was 
 a Mr. Mulock, who went about the Con- 
 tinent preaching orthodoxy in pohtics 
 and rehgion, a writer of bad sonnets, 
 and a lecturer in worse prose, — he tried 
 to convert me to some new sect of 
 Christianity. He was a great anti-ma- 
 teriahst, and abused Locke." 
 
 On another occasion he said : 
 
 " I am always getting new correspond- 
 *' ents. Here are three letters just ar-
 
 I-OKn BYRON. 117 
 
 " rived, 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 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 ano- 
 " nymous too. Hear what she says : ' I 
 " cannot longer exist without acknow- 
 " ledging the tumultuous and agonizing 
 " delight with which my soul burns at 
 '* the glowing beauties of yours/ 
 
 " A third is of a very different charac- 
 " ter from the last; it is from a Mr.
 
 118 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Sheppard, inclosing a prayer made for 
 " my welfare by his wife a few days be- 
 " fore her death. The letter states that 
 " he has liad 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 conver- 
 " sion, particularly in her last moments. 
 " The prayer is beautifully written. I 
 '' like devotion in women. She must have 
 " been a divine creature. 1 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 spiritual affairs, for that no man 
 " is more of a Christian than I am, what-
 
 LORD BYRON. 119 
 
 " ever 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 found- 
 " ing a tale on it ; but the subject is too 
 " harrowing for any nerves, — too terrible 
 " for any pen ! An order was issued at 
 " Zanina by its sanguinary Rajah, that 
 " any Turkish woman convicted of inconti- 
 " nence with a Christian should be stoned 
 ** to death ! Love is slow at calculat- 
 " ing dangers, and defies tyrants and their 
 " edicts ; and many w^ere 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 pro- 
 " duces, fell under the vigilant eye of the
 
 120 CONVERSATIONS OK 
 
 ' police. She was suspected, and not 
 ' without reason, of carrying on a secret 
 ' intrigue with a Neapohtan of some rank, 
 ' whose long stay in the city could be 
 ' attributed to no other cause than this 
 ' attachment. 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 escaped, — she by 
 ' abjuring her religion, or he by adopting 
 ' hers. They resolutely refused to be- 
 ' come apostates to their fliith. Ali Pa- 
 ' cha was never known to pardon. She 
 ' was stoned by those daemons, although 
 ' in the fourth month of her pregnancy ! 
 ' He was sent to a town where the plague 
 ' was raging, and died, happy in not hav- 
 ' ing long outlived the object of his affec- 
 ' tions !
 
 LOKD UYRON. ]21 
 
 " One of the principal incidents in ' Tlie 
 '* Giaour' is derived from a real occur- 
 " rence, and one too in which I myself 
 " was nearly and deeply interested ; but 
 '' an unwillingness 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 Eng- 
 " land, 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 punishment 
 " was different. It was necessary, there_ 
 " fore, that all love-affairs should be car- 
 " ried on with the greatest privacy. I 
 " was very fond at that time of a Turkish 
 *' girl,— ay, fond of her as 1 have been
 
 122 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " of few women. All went on very well 
 " till the Ramazan for forty days, which 
 *' is rather a long fast for lovers : all in- 
 " tercourse between the sexes is forbid- 
 " den 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 to- 
 " ken-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 is- 
 " sued for the law being put into imme- 
 " diate effect. In the mean time I knew
 
 LORD BYRON. 123 
 
 " 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 interfere. A mere acci- 
 " dent only enabled me to prevent the 
 " completion of the sentence. I was tak- 
 " ing 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 thoui^ht 1 could now and then 
 " distino'uish a faint and stifled shriek. 
 " My curiosity was forcibly excited, and I 
 " dispatched one of my followers to en- 
 " quire the cause of the procession. What 
 " was my horror to learn that they were 
 " carrying an unfortunate girl, sewn up in 
 " a sack, to be thrown into the sea ! I 
 " did not hesitate as to what was to be
 
 ]24 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' done. I knew I could depend on my 
 ' faithful Albanians, and rode up to the 
 ' officer commanding the party, threaten- 
 ' ing, in case of his refusal to give up his 
 ' prisoner, that I would adopt means to 
 ' compel him. He did not like the bu- 
 ' siness he was on, or perhaps the deter- 
 ' mined look of my body-guard, and con- 
 ' sented to accompany me back to the 
 ' city with the girl, whom I soon disco- 
 ' vered to be my Turkish favourite. Suf- 
 ' fice 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."
 
 LORD BYRON. 125 
 
 " The severest fever I ever had was at 
 " Patras. I had left Fletcher at Constan- 
 " tinople — convalescent, but unable to 
 " move from weakness, and had no at- 
 " tendants but my Albanians, to w^hom I 
 " owe my life. 
 
 " They were devotedly attached to me, 
 " and watched me day and night. I am 
 " more indebted to a good constitution 
 '' 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 re- 
 " sponsibility of attending me; for my 
 " Albanians came the Grand Siguier over 
 " him, and threatened that if I were not 
 " entirely recovered at a certain hour on
 
 126 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " a certain day, they would take his Hfe. 
 " 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 them- 
 " selves. 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 Pa- 
 " lace, as having enquired after the King's 
 *' health ! 
 
 (( 
 
 <(
 
 LORD BYRON. 127 
 
 " Every body would have said that my 
 " ghost had appeared." 
 
 " But how were they to have reconciled 
 a ghost's writing ?" 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. " 1 mean 
 " to return to Greece, and shall in all pro- 
 " bability 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
 
 a 
 
 128 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Douglas Kinnaird, who made over to 
 " me a share of 500/. for the purpose of 
 " quaUfying me to vote. One need have 
 •' other quahfications besides money for 
 " that office. I found the employment 
 not over pleasant, and not a little dan- 
 " gerous, what with Irish authors and 
 " pretty poetesses. Five hundred plays 
 " were offered to the Theatre during the 
 " year I was Literary Manager. You may 
 " conceive that it was no small task to 
 " read all this trash, and to satisfy the 
 " bards that it was so. 
 
 " When I first entered upon theatrical 
 ** affairs, T had some idea of writing for 
 " the house myself, but soon became a 
 " convert to Pope's opinion on that sub- 
 " ject. Who would condescend to the 
 " drudgery of the stage, and enslave him-
 
 LORD BYRON. 129 
 
 " self to the humours, the caprices, the 
 " taste or tastelessness, of the age ? Be- 
 " sides, one must write for particular ac- 
 " tors, have them continually in one's eye, 
 " sacrifice character to the personating of 
 " it, cringe to some favourite of the pub- 
 " lie, neither give him too many nor too 
 " 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 profes- 
 " sion, 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 exclu- 
 " sively so !— and how, at this distance of 
 " time, and lost as so many works of that 
 
 K
 
 130 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " period are, can we separate what really 
 " is from what is not his own ? 
 
 " 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 sure there is rust and base metal 
 " to si)are 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
 
 LOUD BYRON. 131 
 
 ** of Massinger's (New Way to pay Old 
 " Debts), one of Ford's,* one of Ben Jon- 
 " son'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 Coriola- 
 " nus ? Lady Macbeth died with Mrs. 
 " Siddons, and Polonius will with Mun- 
 ** den. Shakspeare's Comedies are quite 
 " out of date ; many of them are insuffer- 
 " able to read, much more to see. They 
 *' are gross food, only fit for an English or 
 " German palate ; they are indigestible to 
 " the French and Italians, the politest 
 " people in the world. One can hardly 
 " find ten lines together without some 
 
 * Of which I have forgot the name he mentioned. 
 
 K 2
 
 1:j2 conversations of 
 
 " gross violation of taste or decency. 
 " What do yoLi think of Bottom in the 
 " * Midsummer Night's Dream ? ' or of 
 " Troilus' and Cressida'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 Cres- 
 " sida :' 
 
 a 
 
 Prophet may you be ! 
 
 *' If I be false, or swerve a hair fi'om truth. 
 " When Time is old, and hath forgot itself, 
 " When water-drops have worn the stones of Troy, 
 
 And blind Oblivion swallow'd cities up, 
 ' And mighty states characterless are grated 
 
 To dusty nothing, — yet let memory 
 ''' From false to false, among false maids in love. 
 
 a 
 
 a
 
 LORD BYRON. 133 
 
 " 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 ; 
 " Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of false- 
 hood — 
 " 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
 
 ]34 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' The Tempest,' laughing inwardly, as he 
 was used to do ; and afterwards produced 
 a passage from Chateaubriand, contend- 
 ing that we have no theatre. 
 
 " The French very properly ridicule 
 " our bringing in * enfant au premier acte, 
 barhon au dernier .' I was always a 
 ' friend to the unities, and believe that 
 subjects 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 defect, — at least a fault. 
 *' Look at Alfieri's plays, and tell me what 
 " is wanting in them. Does he ever de- 
 " viate from the rules prescribed by the 
 " ancients, from the classical simplicity of 
 " the old models ? It is very difficult, 
 *' almost impossible, to write any thing to 
 
 (( 
 
 u 
 
 tl
 
 (& 
 
 i( 
 
 LORD BYRON. 135 
 
 *' please a modern audience. I was in- 
 " strumental 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 interested my- 
 ' self in his success : but its life was 
 
 very feeble and ricketty. I once thought 
 " of getting Joanna Baillie's * De Mont- 
 " fort' 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 pro- 
 " logue ; but as the request did not come 
 " from Kean, who was to speak it, I de- 
 *' clined. There are fine things in all the 
 *' Plays on the Passions : an idea in ' De 
 " Montfort' struck me particularly ; one of
 
 13(3 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " the characters said that he knew the 
 " footsteps of another.* 
 
 {( 
 
 There are four words in Alfieri that 
 " speak volumes. 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. Udisti ? 
 " Udi.' All the dramatic beauty would 
 " be lost in translation — the nominative 
 " cases would kill it. Nothing provokes 
 
 * " De Moutfort. — '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! 
 
 " ^ ''"^'■'^ ''™ "°'" Act 11. Scene 2.
 
 LORD BYRON. 137 
 
 me so much as the squeamishness that 
 exehides the exhibition of many such 
 subjects from the stage ;— a squeamish- 
 ness, the produce, as I firmly beheve, 
 of a lower tone of the moral sense, 
 and foreign to the majestic and confi- 
 dent virtue of the golden age of our 
 country. All is now cant— methodisti- 
 cal cant. Shame flies from the heart, 
 and takes refuge in the lips; or, our 
 senses and nerves are much more re- 
 fined than those of our neighbours. 
 
 " We should not endure the GEdipus 
 " story, nor 'Phedre.' ' Myrrha,' the best 
 " worked-up, perhaps, of all Alfieri's tra- 
 " gedies, and a favourite in Italy, would 
 " not be tolerated. * The Mysterious 
 " Mother' has never been acted, nor 
 " Massinger's ' Brother and Sister.* Web-
 
 138 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " ster's ' Duchess of Malfy ' would be too 
 " harrowing : her madness, the dungeon- 
 " scene, and her grim talk with her keep- 
 " ers and coffin-bearers, could not be 
 " borne : nor Lillo's ' Fatal Marriage/ 
 *' The 'Cenci' is equally horrible, though 
 " perhaps 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 peo- 
 " pie 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."
 
 LORD BYRON. 139 
 
 It was easy to be perceived that during 
 this tirade upon the stage, and against 
 Shakspeare, he was smarting under the ill- 
 reception ' Marino FaHero' 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 do you think he 
 " has enclosed me ? A long dull extract 
 " from that long dull Latin epic of Pe- 
 " trarch's, Africa, which he has the mo- 
 " desty to ask me to translate for Ugo 
 " Foscolo, who is writing some Memoirs
 
 140 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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, Medwin, 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 complimentary epistle in ac- 
 knowledgment, which made us laugh very 
 heartily.
 
 LORD BYRON. 141 
 
 " There are three good hnes*," said 
 Lord Byron, " in Mago's speech, which 
 " may be thus translated : 
 
 " *Yet, thing of dust! 
 " Man strives to climb the earth in liis 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 minia- 
 ture, 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 
 
 * L^go Foscolo afterwards took them for his 
 motto.
 
 J 
 
 It 
 
 n 
 
 142 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 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 destined to 
 " be so ; and perhaps it is best. I was once 
 " anxious for a son ; but, after our separa- 
 " tion, 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 trust- 
 " ed 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 pro- 
 " per care of a child ; otherwise I should 
 " not have left Allegra, poor little thing!* 
 
 * She appears to be the Leila of his Don Juan : 
 
 '* Poor
 
 LORD BYRON. 143 
 
 (( 
 
 t( 
 
 at Ravenna. She has been a great re- 
 source 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 : perhaps I am wrong in letting 
 " Lady Byron have entirely her own way 
 
 " Poor litde thing ! She was as fair as docile, 
 
 " And with that gentle, serious character " 
 
 Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 52.
 
 144 CONVEllSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 forbidden ; 
 *' 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 day carry off 
 " her daughter by stealth or force. I 
 " might claim her of the Chancellor, with- 
 out having recourse to either one or the 
 other. But I had rather be unhappy 
 " myself, than make her mother so ; pro- 
 " bably 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. 
 
 a 
 
 ((
 
 LORD BYRON. 145 
 
 During our drive and ride tliis even- 
 ing 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 some- 
 thing weighed heavily on his mind. 
 There was a sacredness in his melan- 
 choly that I dared not interrupt. At 
 length he said : 
 
 ^ " This is Ada's birthday, and might 
 " have been the happiest day of my life : 
 " as it is ! " He stopped, seem- 
 ingly ashamed of having betrayed his 
 feelings. 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 
 
 ^'
 
 146 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 silence was all at once interrupted by 
 shrieks that seemed to proceed from a 
 cottage by the side of the road. We 
 pulled up our horses, to enquire of a 
 contadino standing at the little garden- 
 wicket. He told us that a widow had 
 just lost her only child, and that the 
 sounds proceeded from the wailings of 
 some women over the corpse. Lord 
 Byron was much affected ; and his super- 
 stition, 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 anniversaries : 
 " people only laugh at, who have never 
 " kept a register of them. I always write 
 " to my sister on Ada's birthday. I did so
 
 ^ LORD BYRON. 147 
 
 " last year ; and, what was very remarka- 
 " ble, my letter reached her on my wed- 
 " ding-day, and her answer reached me at 
 " Ravenna on my birthday ! Several ex- 
 " traordinary things have happened to 
 " me on my birthday ; so they did to Na- 
 poleon ; and a more wonderful circum- 
 " stance still occurred to Marie Antoi- 
 " nette." 
 
 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 un- 
 " pleasant hung over me last night : I ex- 
 " pected to hear that somebody I knew 
 " was dead ;— so it turns out ! Poor Poli- 
 " dori is gone ! When he was my physi- 
 " cian, he was always talking of Prussic 
 
 L 2
 
 148 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " acid, oil of amber, blowing into veins, 
 
 " suffocating by charcoal, and compound- 
 
 " ing poisons ; but for a different purpose 
 
 " to what the Pontic Monarch did, for he 
 
 " has prescribed a dose for himself that 
 
 " would have killed fifty Miltiades', — a 
 
 " dose whose effect, Murray says, w^as so 
 
 " instantaneous that he went off without 
 
 " a spasm or struggle. It seems that dis- 
 
 *' appointment was the cause of this rash 
 
 /I " act. He had entertained too sanguine 
 
 " hopes of literary fame, owing to the suc- 
 
 " cess of his * Vampyre,' which, in conse- 
 
 . " quence of its being attributed to me, 
 
 I " was got up as a melo-drame at Paris. 
 
 ^ " The foundation of the story was mine ; 
 
 " but I was forced to disown the publica- 
 
 " tion, lest the world should suppose that 
 
 I had vanity enough, or was egotist 
 
 enough, to write in that ridiculous man-
 
 LOEl) EYllON. 149 
 
 '' ner about myself.* Notwithstanding 
 " which, tlie French editions still perse- 
 " vere in including it with my works. My 
 " real ' Vampyre' I gave at the end of z' 
 *' ' Mazeppa,' something in the same way 'Z 
 " that I told it one night at Diodati, when ^ 
 " Monk Lewis, and Shelley and his wife, 
 " were present. The latter sketched on 
 that occasion the outline of her Pygma- 
 lion story, ' The Modern Prometheus,' 
 the making of a man (which a lady who 
 *' had read it afterwards asked Sir Hum- 
 phrey Davy, to his great astonishment, 
 if he could do, and was told a story 
 something like Alonzo and Imogene) ; 
 " and Shelley himself, or ' The Snake,' (as 
 
 * He alluded to the Preface and the Postscript, 
 containing accounts of his residence at Geneva 
 and in the Isle of Mitylene. 
 
 (( 
 
 (I 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 i(
 
 150 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " he used sometimes to call him,) conjured 
 " up some frightful woman of an acquaint- 
 " ance 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 written, 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 Con- 
 
 i( 
 
 a 
 
 ti 
 
 a
 
 LORD BYRON. 15J 
 
 " tinental schemes, that I had forwarded 
 
 " by recommending 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 prescrip- . 
 " tions, he took to writing romances ; a 
 " very unprofitable 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 be- 
 " lieves 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
 
 152 CONVEllSxVTIONS OF 
 
 " to prosper in some undertaking. The 
 " Italians think the dropping of oil very 
 " unlucky. Pietro (Count Gamba) drop- 
 " ped some the night before his exile, and 
 " that of his family, from Ravenna. Have 
 *' you ever had your fortune told ? Mrs. 
 . *' Williams told mine. She predicted that 
 ■ twenty-seven and thirty-seven were to 
 " be dangerous ages in my life. * One has 
 " come true." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 * He was married in his twenty-seventh, and 
 died in his thirty-seventh year.
 
 LORD BYROX. 153 
 
 " But there are lucky and unlucky days, 
 " as well as years and numbers too. Lord 
 
 " was dining at a party, where ■ 
 
 " observed that they were thirteen. ' Whv 
 '' don't you make us twelve ?' was the re- 
 " ply; 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." 
 
 i( 
 
 a 
 
 " 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
 
 154 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " obstetrical countenance, and it seems he 
 " has been bringing forth an ode — a birth- 
 " day ode — not on Ada, bat on a lady. 
 *' An 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 foolish things* to 
 
 * " So that it wean me from the weary di'eam 
 " Of selfish grief, or gladness ! — so it fling 
 " Forgetfiilness around me !" 
 
 Childe Har^old, Canto III. Stanza 4. 
 
 " And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 
 
 " 'Tis that I may not weep ; — and if I weep,
 
 LORD BYRON. 1 o5 
 
 " drive away the memory of it, and make 
 " me forget. 
 
 " I will give you a specimen of some 
 " epigrams I am in 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 Jou7' since we were two. 
 
 " And another on his sending me the con- 
 " gratulations of the season, which ended 
 " in some foolish way like this : 
 
 " Tis that our nature cannot always bring 
 
 " Itself to apathy" &c. 
 
 Don Juan, Canto IV. Stanza 4.
 
 156 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 sociabihty of Lord Byron's disposition, 
 than the festivity that presided 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 frugal, 
 not to say abstemious * ; but on the occa- 
 
 * His dinner, when alone, cost five Pauls ; 
 and thinking he was overcharged, he gave his 
 bills to a lady of my acquaintance to exa-
 
 LORD BYIION. 157 
 
 sion of these meetings every sort of wine, 
 every luxury of the season, and Enghsh 
 dehcacy, were displayed. I never knew 
 any man do the honours of his house with 
 greater khidness 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 
 
 minef. At a Christinas-day dinner he had or- 
 dered a ])hiiM-piidding a I'^Anglaise. Somebody 
 afterwards told him it was not good. " Not 
 " good !" said he : " why, it ought to he good ; it 
 " cost fifteen Pauls." 
 
 ■\ He ordered the remnants to be given away, 
 lest his servants (as he said) should envy him 
 every mouthful he eats.
 
 158 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 something oppressed him, and he could 
 not help continually recurring to the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 One of the party proposed Lady By- 
 ron's health, which he gave with evident 
 pleasure, and we all drank in bumpers. 
 The conversation turning on his separa- 
 tion, the probability of their being recon- 
 ciled 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 pas- 
 sions has subsided,— but that hope is all 
 ' over with me !"
 
 LORD 15YRON. 159 
 
 Writing to a friend the day after our 
 party, I finished my letter with the fol- 
 lowing remark : 
 
 " Notwithstanding the tone of raillery 
 with which he sometimes speaks in ' Don 
 Juan' of his separation from Lady Byron, 
 and 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 domestic life rudely torn asun- 
 der, he has been wandering on from place 
 to place, without finding any to rest in. 
 Switzerland, Venice, Ravenna, and 1
 
 160 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 might even have added Tuscany, were 
 doomed to be no asykim for him." &;c. 
 
 I observed himself and all his servants 
 in deep mourning. 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 af- 
 " fliction, 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, — begin- 
 '■ ning, ' My dear Lady Byron, —
 
 LORD BYRON. 161 
 
 " ' 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."* 
 
 " 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 
 " account of her last injunctions; for she 
 
 M
 
 162 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 life, if I had chosen to have done 
 * so; but have agreed to leave the divi- 
 ' sion of it to Lord Dacre and Sir Francis 
 ' Burdett. The whole management of 
 ' the affair is confided to them ; and I 
 ' shall not interfere, or make any sugges- 
 ' tion 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 Lan-
 
 LORD BYRON. 1 G3 
 
 " cashire estates to Lady Byron's mother, 
 " and afterwards to her daughter : that is 
 " the way I claim." 
 
 Some time after, when the equal parti- 
 tion 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 ques- 
 tion arose as to which was the most per- 
 fect ode that had been produced. Shel- 
 ley contended for Coleridge's on Switzer- 
 land, beginning, " Ye clouds," &c. ; others 
 named some of Moore's Irish Melodies, 
 and Campbell's Hohenlinden ; and, had 
 
 M 2
 
 164 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Lord Byron not been present, his own In- 
 vocation 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 satis- 
 '* iied with what he does ; his finest things 
 " have been spoiled by over-polish — the 
 " sharpness of the outline is worn off. 
 I " Like paintings, poems may 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 prolific 
 " age has brought forth." With this he 
 left the table, almost before the cloth was 
 removed, and returned with a magazine, 
 from which he read the following lines on
 
 LORD BYRON. 165 
 
 Sir John Moore's burial, which perliaps re- 
 quire no apology for finding a place here : 
 
 "Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, 
 " As his corse to the ramparts we humed ; 
 " Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
 " O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 
 
 tt 
 
 (I 
 
 We buried him darkly at dead of night, 
 The sods with our bayonets turning, — 
 By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 
 " And the lantern 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. 
 
 " 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 morrow.
 
 166 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " We thought, as we heap'd his narrow bed, 
 
 " And smoothed 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 him ; 
 " 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 him alone with his glory." 
 
 The feeling w^ith which he recited these
 
 LORD BYRON. J 67 
 
 admirable stanzas, I shall never forget. 
 After he had come to an end, he repeated 
 the third, and said it was perfect, particu- 
 larly the lines 
 
 " But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
 *' With his martial cloak around him." 
 
 " I should have taken," said Shelley, 
 " the whole for a rough sketch of Camp- 
 bell's. 
 
 1) jj 
 
 " 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 men- 
 tioned ; and, after he had praised the
 
 168 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 verses so highly, 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 : — 
 
 *' 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 con- 
 
 * I am corroborated in this opinion lately by a 
 lady, whose brother received them many years ago 
 from Lord Byron, in his Lordship's own hand- 
 wiiting.
 
 LORD BYRON. 169 
 
 " tradict what Turner had asserted about 
 " the hnpossibihty of crossmg the Helles- 
 " pont from the Abydos to the Sestos 
 side, in consequence of the tide. 
 
 a 
 
 " One is as easy as the other ; we did 
 " both." Here he turned round to Flet- 
 cher, to whom he occasionally referred, 
 and said, " Fletcher, how far was it Mr. 
 " Ekenhead and I swam ?" Fletcher re- 
 plied, '' Three miles and a half, my Lord." 
 (Of course he did not diminish the dis- 
 tance.) " The real width of the Helles- 
 " pont," resumed Lord Byron, " is not 
 " much above a mile ; but the current is 
 " prodigiously strong, and we were car- 
 " ried 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
 
 170 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 I should have 
 " made a bad Leander, for it gave me an 
 " ague that I did not so easily get rid of. 
 " There were some sailors in the fleet 
 " who swam further than I did— I do not 
 " say than I could have done, for it is the 
 " only exercise 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
 
 I.OllD BYRON. 171 
 
 " 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 chal- 
 " lenged me. Not wishing that any fo- 
 " reigner at least should beat me at my 
 " own arms, 1 consented to engage in the 
 " contest. Alexander 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 himself 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
 
 ({ 
 
 (( 
 
 ii 
 
 « 
 
 172 CONVERSATIONS 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 
 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 exist- 
 " ence, or was going to be turned into 
 " one in the next.^' 
 
 " When I published * Marino Faliero' I 
 " had not the most distant view to the 
 " stage. My object in choosing that his- 
 " torical subject was to record one of the
 
 LORD BYUON. 13 
 
 " most remarkable incidents in the annals 
 " of the Venetian Republic, embodying it 
 " in what I considered the most interest- 
 " ing form — dialogue, and giving my work 
 " the accompaniments of scenery and man- 
 " ners studied on the spot. That Fa- 
 " Hero should, for a slight to a woman, 
 " become a traitor to his country, and con- 
 " spire 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 help it ? But no 
 " painting, however highly coloured, can 
 " give an idea of the intensity of a Vene- 
 
 er 
 
 ((
 
 174 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " tian's affection for his native city. Shel- 
 " ley, I remember, draws a very beautiful 
 " picture of the tranquil pleasures of Ve- 
 " nice in a poem* which he has not pub- 
 
 * 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 little brazen lamp alight, 
 
 " Unseen, uninterrupted : books are there, 
 
 " Pictures, and casts from all those statues fair 
 
 " Which were twin-born with poetry, — and aU 
 
 " We seek in towns, with little to recall 
 
 " Regrets for the green country. I might sit 
 
 *' In Maddalo's great palace," &c. 
 
 Julian and Macldalo.
 
 LORD BYRON. 175 
 
 " lished, 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, historic 
 " poems, or any thing, in short, but tra- 
 " gedies 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 compressed into so confined 
 " a space. 
 
 * He gave me the copy, with the number of 
 lines marked with his own pencil. I have left it 
 in England.
 
 17(> CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I remember Hogg the Ettrick Shep- 
 " herd 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 act- 
 *' ing. The remark occurred to me when 
 " I was about ' Marino Faliero ;' but I 
 " thought it unnecessary to try and con- 
 " tradict his prediction, as I did not study 
 " stage-effect, and meant it solely for the 
 " closet. So much was I averse from its 
 " being acted, that, the moment I heard 
 " of the intention of the Managers, I ap- 
 *' plied for an injunction ; but the Chan- 
 " cellor refused to interfere, or issue an 
 
 order for suspending the representation. 
 
 It was a question of great importance in 
 " the literary world of property. He 
 " would neither protect me nor Murray. 
 
 (( 
 
 ti
 
 LOIU) BYKON. 177 
 
 " 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 ac- 
 " tor, was the murderer of the w^hole. 
 " Lioni's soliloquy, which I wrote one 
 " moonlight night after coming from the 
 " Benyons', ought to have been omitted 
 " altogether, or at all events much cur- 
 " tailed. 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 
 
 * Acted at Urury Lane, April 25. 1 -^2 1 .
 
 178 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' lady, from whom I had great expecta- 
 " tions, was hkely to hve 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 fol- 
 " lowing epigram, or elegy it may be 
 " termed, from the melancholy nature of 
 " the subject : — 
 
 " 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 ' Faliero ;' but I 
 *' should hope it will not be attempted 
 " on the Theatre Francois. It is quite 
 " enough for a man to be damned once.
 
 LORD BYRON. 17<) 
 
 " I was satisfied witli Jeffrey's critique * 
 " on the play, for it abounded in extracts. 
 " He was welcome to his own opinion, — 
 " which w^as fairly stated. His summing 
 *' up in favour of my friend Sir Walter 
 " amused me : it reminded me of a school- 
 " master, who, after flogging a bad boy, 
 " calls out the head of the class, and, pat- 
 " ting him on the head, gives him all the 
 " sugar-plums. 
 
 *' The common trick of Reviewers is, 
 " when they want to depreciate a w^ork, to 
 ** give no quotations from it. This is what 
 
 * " However, I forgive liim ; and I trust 
 " He will forgive himself: — if not, I must. 
 
 " Old enemies who have become new friends, 
 " Should so continue ; — 'tis a point of lionour/' 
 Don Juan, Canto X. Stanzas 1 1 and 1 2. 
 
 N 2
 
 180. CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " ' The Quarterly' shines in ; —the way 
 " Milman put down Shelley, when he com- 
 " pared him to Pharaoh, and his works 
 " to his chariot-wheels, by what contor- 
 *' tion 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 1 in reply, 
 " ' would you have me crucified ? We are 
 " not in Jerusalem, are we ?' But this 
 " is a long parenthesis. The Reviewers 
 " are like a counsellor, after an abusive 
 " speech, calling no witnesses to prove his 
 " assertions. 
 
 " There are people who read nothing 
 " but these trimestrials, and swear by the 
 " ipse dixit of these autocrats— these Ac-
 
 LOJID BYRON. 181 
 
 taeon 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 Mihnan may be a great poet, 
 if Heber is right and 1 am wrong. lie 
 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 be- 
 tween him and me. 
 
 *' But the praise or blame of Review- 
 " ers does not last long now-a-days. It 
 " is like straw thrown up in the air. * 
 
 * He seemed to think somewhat difl'erently 
 afterwards, when, after the review in 'The
 
 182 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 (( 
 
 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 furnish com- 
 " plete unities of time and place. 
 
 " No event in ancient times ever struck 
 
 Quarterly' of his plays, he wrote to me, saying, 
 " I am the most unpopular writer going!"
 
 LORD BYllON. 183 
 
 " me as more noble and dramatic than 
 " the death of Demosthenes. You re- 
 " member his last words to Archias ? — 
 " But subjects are not wanting," 
 
 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." 
 
 * Barry Cornwall
 
 184 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 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 arguments of the Review- 
 ers had not changed his Unitarian opi- 
 nions, (as he called them) : 
 
 " Had I been aware of your tragedy 
 " when I wrote my note to ' Marino Fa- 
 " liero,' 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. 
 
 " My own notions on the subject alto- 
 " gether are so different from the popular 
 " ideas of the day, that we differ essen-
 
 LORD BYRON. 185 
 
 " tially, as indeed I do from our whole 
 " English literati, 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 w^as a boy," said he, " I stu- 
 
 * died German, which I have now entirely 
 ' forgotten. It was very little 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
 
 186 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' ridding the world of so dull a fellow 
 " as Gessner made brother Abel. 
 
 a 
 
 C( 
 
 I always thought Cain a fine subject, 
 and when I took it up I determined to 
 " treat it strictly after the Mosaic ac- 
 " count. I therefore made the snake a 
 " snake, and took a Bishop for my inter- 
 " preter. 
 
 " I had once an idea of following the 
 
 " Arminian Scriptures, and making Cain's 
 
 crime proceed from jealousy, and love 
 
 ' of his uterine sister ; but, though a more 
 
 probable 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 reli- 
 
 ve 
 
 a
 
 LORD BYRON. 187 
 
 " gious worship should have induced the 
 " first murder. 
 
 " Hobhouse has denounced ' Cain as \/ 
 ** irrehgious, and has penned me a most 
 " furious epistle, urging me not to pub- 
 " lish 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. Shel- 
 " ley, who is no bad judge of the com- 
 " positions of others, however he may fail 
 " in procuring success for his own, is most 
 " sensitive and indignant at this critique,
 
 188 CONVEllSATTONS OF 
 
 " and says (what is not the case) that 
 r/ " ' Cam' is the finest thing I ever wrote, 
 " calls it worthy of Milton, and backs it 
 " against Hobhouse's poetical Trinity. 
 
 " The Snake's rage has prevented my 
 " crest from rising. I shall write Hob- 
 " house a very unimpassioned letter, but 
 " a firm one. The publication shall go 
 " on, whether Murray refuses to print it 
 " or not. 
 
 " I have just got a letter, and an ad- 
 " mirable 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 1 S9 
 
 " blasphemy of the sentiments, than de- 
 " hghted with the beauty of the hnes. 
 " Another person thinks the Devil's argu- 
 
 " ments irresistible, or irrefutable. 
 
 " says that the Liberals like it, but that 
 " the Ultraists are making a terrible out- 
 " cry; and that the he and him not being 
 " in capitals, in 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 ilUteratl the more be- 
 " cause 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 princi- 
 " pie of Evil ; and, what is worse, with 
 " having given Lucifer the best of tlie 
 " argument ; all of which I am accused 
 " of taking from Voltaire.
 
 190 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I could not make Lucifer expound 
 " the Thirty-nine Articles, nor talk as the 
 " Divines do: that v\ould never have 
 " suited his purpose, — nor, one would 
 " think, theirs. They ought to be grateful 
 " to him for giving them a subject 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. 
 " I 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 would have been glad 
 "of an opportunity of throwing another 
 " stone at Milton, redeems him from any
 
 LORD BYRON. 191 
 
 " censure for putting impiety and even 
 " blasphemy into the mouths of his in- 
 " fernal 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 they think of 
 " the colloquies of Mephistopheles 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 onlv tolerated and admired, as 
 " every thing he wrote must be, but acted, 
 " in Germany. 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 : Goctlie
 
 192 CONVERSATIONS OP' 
 
 " would have made more of it than I have 
 done */' 
 
 * On Mr. Murray being threatened with a pro- 
 secution, Lord Byron begged me to copy the fol- 
 lowing 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 con- 
 " sidered responsible for what I publish, I am at a 
 "loss to conceive. If 'Cain' be blasphemous, 
 " ' Paradise Lost ' is blasphemous ; and the words 
 " of the Oxford gentleman, ' Evil, be thou my 
 " good,' are from that very 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 1.93 
 
 I cannot resist presenting the public 
 with a drinking-song composed one morn- 
 
 " and tlie 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 IMilton does, and 
 " not very wisely either ; but have adopted liis 
 " angel as sent to Cain instead, on purj)ose to 
 " avoid shocking any feelings on the subject, by 
 " falUng short of ^^ hat all uninspired men must 
 " fall short in, — viz. giving an adequate notion of 
 " the effect of the presence of Jeliovah. The 
 " old Mysteries introduced Him liberally enough, 
 " and all this I avoided in the new one. 
 
 " The attempt to bully you l)ecause they tJiink 
 " it will not succeed witli me, seems as atrocious 
 " an attempt as ever disgraced the times. AVhat ! 
 
 o
 
 194 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ing, — 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. 
 
 " when Gibbon's, Hume's, Priestley's, and Drum- 
 " mond's pubUshers 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 argu- 
 " ment ? 
 
 " There must be something at the bottom of 
 " this — some private enemy of your own : it is 
 " otherwise incredible. I can only say, ' Afe, ?ne, 
 '' adsum qui feci;'' that any proceedings against 
 " you may, I beg, be transfeired to me, who am
 
 LORD BYRON. 195 
 
 " I have tried in its tura all that hfe 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 ? 
 
 " 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 de- 
 " sire you will say, that both you and Mr. Gif- 
 " ford remonstrated against the publication, and 
 " also Mr. Holjhouse ; 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 meeting in my own person I can 
 *' sav^e yours. Let me know. You shan't suffer 
 " for me, if I can help it. Make any use of this 
 " letter you please." 
 
 o 2
 
 196 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 faithful as thou ? 
 
 " The breast 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 appears, 
 " Whose 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.
 
 LORD BYRON. 197 
 
 " When, the setason of youth and its joUities 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 confined to the bowl. 
 
 " When the box of Pandora was open'd on earth, 
 " And Memory's triumph commenced ov^er 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 gi-ape! 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." 
 
 Dining with him another day, the sub- 
 ject of private theatricals was introduced.
 
 198 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 1 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 
 " happened, that was very provoking in 
 ** itself, but very humorous in its conse- 
 " quences. 
 
 " On the day of representation, one of 
 " the performers took it into his head to 
 " make an excuse, and his part was ob- 
 " liged to be read. Hobhouse came for- 
 '* ward to apologize to the audience, and 
 
 " told them that a Mr. had declined 
 
 " to perform his part, &:c. The gentle- 
 " man was highly indignant at the * a,' and 
 " had a great inclination to pick a quarrel 
 " with Scroope Davies, who rephed, that he 
 " supposed Mr. wanted to be called
 
 LORD BYRON. 199 
 
 " the Mr. so and so. He ever after went 
 '* by the name of the ' Definite Article." 
 
 " After this preface, to be less indefi- 
 " nite, suppose we were to get up a play. 
 " My hall, which is the largest in Tus- 
 " cany, would make a capital theatre ; and 
 " we may send to Florence for an audi- 
 '' ence, if we cannot fill it here. And as 
 " to decorations, nothing is easier in any 
 " part of Italy than to get them: besides 
 " that, Williams 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, pre- 
 paring the dresses, &c., and rehearsals of 
 a few scenes took place. Perhaps Lord
 
 200 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Byron would have made the finest actor 
 m the world. His voice had a flexibility, 
 a variety in its tones, a power and pathos 
 beyond any I ever heard; and his counte- 
 nance was capable of expressing the ten- 
 derest, 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 jea- 
 " lousy turn upon that circumstance.* The 
 
 * Calderon says, in the Cisma de r Inglaterra, 
 (I have not the original,) 
 
 " She gave me, too, a handkerchief, — a speU — 
 " A flattering pledge, my hopes to animate — 
 " An astrologic favour — fatal prize, 
 " That told too true what tears must weep 
 these eyes !"
 
 LORD BYIION. 201 
 
 " handkerchief is the strongest proof of 
 " love, not only among the Moors, but all 
 " Eastern nations : and yet they say that 
 " the plot of ' Marino Faliero' hangs upon 
 
 " too slight a cause." 
 
 All at once a difficulty arose about a 
 Desdemona, and the Guiccioli put her 
 Veto on our theatricals. The influence 
 of the Countess over Lord Byron remind- 
 ed 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 Ladyship !" 
 
 Discussing the different actors of the 
 day, he said :
 
 202 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 against 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 ? 
 
 " Kean began by acting Richard the 
 Third when quite a boy, and gave all 
 the promise of what he afterwards be- 
 came. His Sir Giles Overreach was a 
 " wonderful performance. The actresses 
 " were afraid of him ; and he was after- 
 
 ii 
 
 a 
 
 {(
 
 LORD BYRON. 203 
 
 " wards so much exhausted hhnself, that 
 " he fell into fits. This, I am told, was 
 " the case with Miss O'Neil.* 
 
 " Kemble did much towards the reform 
 " of our stage. Classical costume was al- 
 " most unknown before he undertook 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 con- 
 " ceive nothing equal to Kemble's Corio- 
 " lanus ; 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. 
 
 * And he might have added Pasta.
 
 204 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Kemble pronounced several words 
 " affectedly, which should be cautiously 
 " avoided on the stage. It is nothing that 
 " Campbell writes it Sepulcrt in ' Hohen- 
 " linden.' The Greek derivation is much 
 " against his pronunciation of ache.'' 
 
 He now began to mimic Kemble's voice 
 and manner of spouting, and imitated him 
 inimitably in Prosperous lines : 
 
 " ' Yea, the great globe itself, it shall dissolve, 
 " * And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 " ' Leave not a rack behind !' 
 
 " When half seas over, Kemble used to 
 " speak in blank-verse : and with prac- 
 " tice, I don't think it would be difficult. 
 " Good prose resolves itself into blank- 
 " verse. Why should we not be able to
 
 LORD BYRON. 205 
 
 " 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 
 *' suppose. More verses are written yearly 
 " in Italy, than millions of money are cir- 
 " culated. It is usual for every Italian 
 " gentleman to make sonnets to his mis- 
 " tress's eyebrow before he is married, — or 
 " the lady must be very uninspiring in- 
 " deed. 
 
 *' But Sgricci ! To extemporize a whole
 
 (( 
 
 {( 
 
 206 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " tragedy seems a miraculous gift. I heard 
 him improvise a five-act play at Lucca, 
 ' on the subject of the ' Iphigenia in Tau- 
 ris,' 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 Eu- 
 " ripides, 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 elocution — 
 " the wondering and applauding audience.
 
 LORD BYRON. 207 
 
 *' — 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 
 *' I would not go to see, for fear of weak- 
 " ening the impression made by the queen 
 *' of tragedians. When I read Lady Mac- 
 " beth's part, I have Mrs. Siddons before 
 " me, and imagination even supplies her 
 " voice, whose tones were superhuman, 
 " and power over the heart supernatural. 
 
 " It is pleasant enough sometimes to 
 " take a peep behind, as well as to look 
 " before the scenes. 
 
 " I remember one leg of an elephant 
 " saying to another, ' D-n your eyes,
 
 208 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " move a little quicker ;' and overhearing 
 " at the Opera two people in love, who 
 " were so distraits that they made the re- 
 " sponses between the intervals of the re- 
 " citation, instead of during the recitation 
 *' itself. One said to the other, ' Do you 
 *' love me ?' then came the flourish of mu- 
 " sic, and the reply sweeter than the mu- 
 " sic, ' Can vou doubt it ?' " 
 
 *' I have just been reading Lamb's Spe- 
 " cimens," said he, " and am surprised to 
 " find in the extracts from the old dra- 
 " matists so many ideas that I thought 
 '* exclusively my own. Here is a passage, 
 " for instance, from * The Duchess of 
 " Malfy,' astonishingly like one in ' Don 
 " Juan.'
 
 I.OKD BYRON. 209 
 
 " ' The leprosij of lust ' I discover, too, 
 "is not mine. 'Thou tremhkst,' — ' 'Tis 
 *' ziith age then,' which I am accused of 
 *' borrowing from Otway, was taken from 
 " the Okl Bailej' proceedings. Some 
 " judge observed to the witness, ' Thou 
 " tremblest ;' — ' 'Tis with cold tlien,' 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 Ave tell to what extent Shak- 
 " speare is indebted to his contemj)ora- 
 *■ ries, whose works are now lost ? Be- 
 " sides which, Cibber adapted his plays to 
 " the stage. 
 
 p 
 
 t( 
 
 it
 
 210 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " The invocation of the witches was, we 
 " know, a servile plagiarism from Middle- 
 *' ton. Authors were not so squeamish 
 " about borrowing from one another in 
 " those days. If it be a fault, I do not 
 " pretend to be immaculate. I will lend 
 " you some volumes of Shipwrecks, from 
 " which my storm in ' Don Juan' came." 
 
 " Lend me also ' Casti's Novelle,' " said 
 I. " Did you never see in Italian, — 
 
 " Round her she makes an atmosphere of light ; 
 " The very air seem'd lighter from her eyes ?" 
 
 '' The Germans," said he, " and I be- 
 " heve Goethe himself, consider that I 
 "have taken great liberties with 'Faust.' 
 " All I know of that drama is from a sorry 
 " French translation, from an occasional
 
 LORD BYRON. 211 
 
 " reading or two into English of parts of 
 " it by Monk Lewis when at Diodati, and 
 *' from 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, an- 
 " cient and modern ; — who is not ? You 
 " tell me the plot is almost entirely Cal- 
 " deron's. The f^te, the scholar, the ar- 
 *' gument about the Logos, the selling 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 thing about it but 
 " you and Shelley. Then the vision is not 
 
 p 2
 
 212 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " unlike that of Marlow's, in his 'Faustus.' 
 *' The bed-scene is from ' Cymbeline ;' the 
 " song or serenade, a translation of Ophe- 
 " lia's, in ' Hamlet;' and, more than all, 
 " the prologue is from Job, which is the 
 " first drama in the world, and perhaps 
 " the oldest poem. I had an idea of writ- 
 " ing a 'Job,' but I found it too sublime. 
 " There is no poetry to be compared 
 " with it." 
 
 I told him that Japhet's sohloquy 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."
 
 LORD BYRON. 213 
 
 " 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 
 
 " 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 re- 
 " member 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 looking a gift 
 " horse in the mouth,' and such stable ex- 
 " pressions. The severity of ' The Quar- 
 " terly' killed poor Keats, and neglect, 
 " Kirke White ; but I was made of differ- 
 
 * Written in 1808.
 
 214 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ent 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 English 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 public 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, contrary
 
 LORD BYRON. 215 
 
 *' to the advice of my friends, I affixed 
 " my name. Tlie 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 re- 
 " print it, it was no fault of mine. I did 
 " my utmost to suppress the publication, 
 " not only in England, but in Ireland. I 
 " will tell you my principal reason for do- 
 " ing so : I had good grounds to believe 
 " that Jeffrey (though perhaps really re- 
 " sponsible for whatever appears in ' The 
 " Edinburgh,' as Gifford is for ' The Quar- 
 " terly,' 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
 
 216 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " convince me, if I ever came to Scotland, 
 " who the person was. I have every rea- 
 " son to beheve 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 
 " intelligible 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 sepa- 
 " ration-cause, that went before the Chan- 
 " cellor as a matter of form, when the pro- 
 " ceedings came on, he took upon himself 
 " to apply some expressions, or make some 
 " allusions to me, which must have been
 
 LORD BYRON. 217 
 
 " of a most unwarrantable nature, as my 
 " friends c6nsulted whether they should 
 " acquaint me with the })urport of them. 
 " What they precisely were I never knew, 
 " or should certainly have made him re- 
 " tract them. I met him afterwards at 
 " Coppet, but \vas not at that time ac- 
 " quainted with this circumstance. He 
 " took on himself the advocate also, in 
 " writing to Madame de Stael, and advis- 
 " ing her not to meddle in the quarrel 
 " between Lady Byron and myself This 
 " was not kind ; it w^as a gratuitous and 
 " unfeed act of hostility. But there was 
 " another reason that influenced me even 
 " more than my cooled resentment against 
 " Jeffrey, to suppress ' English Bards and 
 " Scotch Reviewers.' In the duel-scene I 
 " had unconsciously made part of the ridi- 
 " cule fall on Moore. The fact was, that
 
 218 CONA^ERSATIONS OF 
 
 " there was no imputation on the courage 
 " of either of the principals. One of the 
 " balls fell out in the carriage, and was 
 " lost ; and the seconds, not having a fur- 
 " ther 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 na- 
 ' ture of a challenge, delivering it to the 
 ' care of Mr. Hanson, but without ac- 
 ' quainting him with the contents. This 
 ' letter was mislaid, — at least never for- 
 ' warded to me. 
 
 *' But, on my return to England in 1812, 
 " an enquiry was made by Moore if I had 
 " received such a letter? adding, that par- 
 " ticular circumstances (meaning his mar-
 
 LORD BYRON. 219 
 
 '* riage, or perhaps the suppression of the 
 *' sath-e) had now altered his situation, and 
 " that he wished to recall the letter, and 
 " to be known to nie through Rogers. I 
 " was shy of this mode of arranging mat- 
 *' ters, one hand presenting a pistol, and 
 " another held out to shake ; and felt awk- 
 " ward at the loss of a letter of such a na- 
 " ture, and the imputation it might have 
 " given rise to. But when, after a consi- 
 " derable search, it was at length found, I 
 " returned it to Moore with the seal un- 
 " broken ; and we have since been the 
 " best friends in the world. I correspond 
 *' with no one so regularly 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
 
 220 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 'English Bards.' I never retracted my 
 " opinions of their works, — I never sought 
 " their acquaintance ; but there are men 
 *' who can forgive and forget. The Lau- 
 " reate 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 pane- 
 " gyrics are of httle or no avail here, he in- 
 " dulges himself in a pleasant visioji as to 
 *' what will be their fate hereafter. The 
 " third Heaven is hardly good enough for 
 " a king, and Dante's worst birth 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 Foscari/ 
 '* 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
 
 LOUD BYRON. 221 
 
 ' 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 Coleridge 
 *was in great distress, I borrowed 100/. 
 ' to give him." 
 
 Some days after this discussion appeared 
 Mr. Southey's reply to the Note in ques- 
 tion. I happened to see ' The Literary 
 Gazette' at Mr. Edgeworth's, and mention- 
 ed 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 succeeded, and
 
 222 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 took it to the Lanfranchi palace at eleven 
 o'clock, (after coming from the opera,) an 
 hour at which I was frequently in the ha- 
 bit of calling on him. 
 
 He had left the Guiccioli earlier than 
 usual, and I found him waiting with some 
 impatience. I never shall forget his coun- 
 tenance 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 per- 
 mitted, commenting on some of the pas- 
 sages as he went on. When he had finish- 
 ed, he threw down the paper, and asked 
 me if I thought there was any thing of a 
 personal nature in the reply that demand- 
 ed satisfaction ; as, if there was, he would
 
 LORD BYRON. 223 
 
 instantly set off for England and call Sou- 
 they to an account, — muttering something 
 about whips, and branding-irons, and gib- 
 bets, and wounding the heart of a woman, 
 — ^words of Mr. Southey's. I said that, as 
 to personality, his own expressions of 
 " cowardly ferocity," *' pitiful renegado," 
 " hireling," were much stronger than any 
 in the letter before me. He paused a 
 moment, and said : 
 
 " Perhaps you are right ; but I will con- 
 " sider of it. You have not seen my ' Vi- 
 " sion of Judgment.' I wish I had a copy 
 " to shew you ; but the only one I have is 
 " in London. I had almost decided not 
 '* to publish it, but it shall now go forth to 
 " the world. I will write to Douglas Kin- 
 " naird by to-morrow's post, to-night, not 
 " to delay its appearance. The question
 
 224 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " is, whom to get to print it. Murray will 
 " liave nothing to say to it just now, while 
 " the prosecution of Cain' hangs over his 
 " head. It was offered to Longman ; but 
 " he declined it on the plea of its injuring 
 " the sale of Southey's Hexameters, of 
 "which he is the publisher. Hunt shall 
 " have it.'' 
 
 Another time he said : 
 
 " T am glad Mr. Southey owns that 
 " article on ' Foliage,' which excited my 
 " choler so much. But who else could 
 " have been the author ? Who but Sou- 
 " they would have had the baseness, under 
 " the pretext of reviewing the work of one 
 " man, insidiously to make it a nest-egg 
 " for hatching malicious calumnies against 
 " others ?
 
 LORD BYRON. 225 
 
 *' It was bad taste, to say the least of it, 
 " in Shelley to write A0£oc after his name 
 " at Mont An vert. I knew little of him 
 " at that time, but it happened to meet my 
 " eye, and I put my pen through the word, 
 *' and Mwpoc too, that 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 stopped. It 
 " would have been more creditable to Mr. 
 " Southey'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 aij^ainst 
 " him at home. I might well say he had 
 *' impudence enough, if he could confess 
 '' such infamy. I say nothing of the cri- 
 
 Q
 
 226 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 tique itself on * Foliage ;' with the ex- 
 ception of a few sonnets, it was unwor- 
 thy 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 bleed- 
 ing heart, — be barbarous enough to re- 
 vive 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 scor- 
 pion claws ? "
 
 LORD BYRON. 227 
 
 Some days after these remarks, on call- 
 ing 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 Faustisli 
 " kind of drama : tell me what you think 
 " of it." 
 
 After reading it attentively, Shelley re- 
 turned 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." 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 CONVEIISATIONS OF 
 
 Lord Byron changed colour immedi- 
 ately, and asked hastily what lines ? 
 Shelley repeated, 
 
 ' And water shall see thee. 
 And fear thee, and flee thee.' 
 
 " They are in ' The Curse of Keha- 
 ma. 
 
 His Lordship, without making a single 
 observation, instantly threw the poem into 
 the fire. He seemed to feel no chagrin at 
 seeing it consume — at least his counte- 
 nance betrayed 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 229 
 
 years afterwards, ' The Deformed Trans- 
 formed' announced, (supposing it to have 
 perished at Pisa) ; but it seems that he 
 must have had another copy of the manu- 
 script, or had re-written it perhaps, with- 
 out changing a w^ord, except omitting the 
 * Kehama ' hues. His memory w'as re- 
 markably retentive of his own writings. 
 I beheve he could have quoted almost 
 every line he ever wrote. 
 
 One day a correspondent of Lord By- 
 ron's sent him from Paris the following 
 lines — a sort of epitaph for Southey — 
 W'hich 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 !
 
 230 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Through every sort of verse meandering. 
 Bob went without a hitch or fall, 
 
 Through Epic, Sapphic, Alexandrine, 
 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 WTiigs, 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 Malmsey, 
 It may not save him from a sack.
 
 LORD BYRON. 231 
 
 Death, weary of so dull a writer, 
 
 Put to his works a Jims thus. 
 O ! may the earth on him lie lighter 
 
 Than did his quartos upon us ! " 
 
 " ' Heaven and Earth ' was commenced," 
 " said he, " at Ravenna, on the 9th Octo- 
 " ber last. It occupied about fourteen 
 " 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 dis- 
 " like to that three-syllabled word Mys- 
 " terij, and says, I know not why, that it 
 " is another ' Cain.' I suppose he does 
 " not like my making one of Cain's daugh- 
 '* ters talk the same language as her fa- 
 
 te 
 
 a
 
 V 
 
 232 CONVEESATIONS OF 
 
 " ther's father, and has a prejudice against 
 
 " the family. 1 could not make her so 
 
 " unnatural as to speak ill of her grand- 
 
 " father. I was forced to make her aris- 
 
 " tocratical, proud of her descent from 
 
 " the eldest born. Murray J-ays, that who- 
 
 " ever })rints 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 objec- 
 
 " tionable 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' is refusal to protect, 
 
 " and the cheapness of a piratical edition, 
 
 " give it a wider circulation among the 
 
 " lower classes ? Will they not buy and 
 
 " read it for the very reason that it is con- 
 
 " sidered improper, and try to discover 
 
 " an evil tendency where it was least
 
 o 
 
 LORD BYHON. 23 
 
 " meant ? May not impiety be extracted 
 " by garbling the Bible ? I defy the com- 
 " mon people to understand sucli myste- 
 " ries 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 rozc^ of the Furies in the ' Eu- 
 menides' of iEschylus. 
 
 " 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 be- 
 " fore I wrote my ode ; but I never open 
 " a Greek book. Shelley tells me that the 
 " choruses in ' Heaven and Earth' are
 
 234 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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. How- 
 " ever, Hunt will be glad of it for his new 
 " periodical work. I talked of writing a 
 " second part to it ; but it was only as 
 " Coleridge promised a second part to 
 " ' Christabei.' 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, and 
 " throwing oiF their allegiance to Heaven. 
 " They rise into the air with the two sis- 
 " ters, and leave this globe to a fate which, 
 " according to Cuvier, it has often under- 
 " gone, and will undergo again. The ap- 
 " pearance of the land strangled by the
 
 LORD BYRON. 235 
 
 ocean will serve by way of scenery and 
 decorations. The affectionate tender- 
 ness of Adah for those from whom she 
 is parted, and for ever, and her fears 
 contrasting with the 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 is- 
 lands 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 pu- 
 nishment unknown. The sisters still
 
 236 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 en- 
 " treaties, and endeavours to cling to the 
 " sides of the vessel. The proud and 
 *' haughty Aholibamah scorns to pray 
 " either to God or man, and anticipates 
 " the grave by plunging into the waters. 
 " Noah is still inexorable. The surviv- 
 " ing daughter of Cain is momentarily in 
 " danger 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
 
 LORD BYUON. 237 
 
 ** angel lord. I once thought of convey- 
 " mg the lovers to the moon, or one of 
 " the planets ; but it is not easy 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 w^hat 
 " Fontenelle '^aid of its having no atmo- 
 " sphere, and the dark spots being ca- 
 " verns where the inluibitants reside. 
 *' There was another objection : all the 
 " human interest woidd have been de- 
 '* stroyed, which I have even endeavour- 
 '* ed to give my Angels. It was a very 
 " Irish kind of compliment Jeffrey paid to 
 " Moore's ' Lalla Rookh,' when he said 
 " the loves w ere those of Angels ; mean- 
 " ing that they were hke nothing on 
 " earth. What will he say of ' The Loves 
 " of the Angels ? ' — that they are like
 
 238 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " (for he has nothing left) nothing in 
 " Heaven?" 
 
 " 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. I 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 fif- 
 teen years' exile, where he so patheti- 
 cally prayed for his country, and depra- 
 
 ve 
 
 a
 
 LORD IJYRON. 239 
 
 * cated 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 some- 
 ' what of resemblance* in our destinies — 
 ' he had a wife, and I have the same 
 ' feelings about leaving my bones in a 
 ' strange land. 
 
 * " The day may come she would l)e 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." 
 
 Ibid.
 
 240 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I had, however, a much more exten- 
 ' sive view in writing that poem than to 
 ' describe either his banishment or his 
 ' srave. Poets are sometimes shrewd in 
 ' their conjectures. You quoted to me 
 ' the other day a hue in ' Childe Harold,' 
 ' in which f made a prediction about the 
 ' Greeks*: in this instance I was not so 
 ' fortunate as to be prophetic. This poem 
 * was intended for the Itahans and the 
 ' Guiccioh, 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 adopt- 
 ' ed in defiance of my remonstrance, and 
 
 * " Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye ? No !" 
 Childe Harold, Canto II. Stanza 75.
 
 LORD BYRON. 241 
 
 " in the very teeth of it ; and yet I be- 
 *' heve the Itahans hkecl the work. It 
 " was looked at in a pohtical Hght, and 
 " they indulged in my dream of liberty, 
 " and the resurrection of Italy. Alas ! 
 " it was only a dream ! 
 
 *' 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 
 " persecute 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 Pro- 
 '' phecy failed me. 
 
 R
 
 242 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " It was the turn political affairs took 
 " that made me relinquish 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 en- 
 *' thusiasm 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 
 " Italian gentleman, scarcely any well-edu- 
 " cated girl, that has not all the finer pas- 
 " sages of Dante at the fingers' ends, — 
 " particularly the Ravennese. The Guic- 
 " cioli, 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. 
 
 " Shelley always says that reading Dante
 
 LORD BYRON. 243 
 
 " is unfavourable to writing, from its su- 
 " periority to all possible compositions. 
 " 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 clas- 
 " sical simplicity, — is lost. You might as 
 " well clothe a statue, as attempt to trans- 
 *' late Dante. He is better, as an Italian 
 " said, ' nudo che vestito.' 
 
 "■ There's Taafe is not satisfied with 
 *' what Carey has done, but he must be 
 " traducing him too. What think you of 
 " that fine line in the ' Inferno' being ren- 
 " dered, as Taafe has done it ? 
 
 * I Mantiian, capering, squalid, squalling.' 
 
 " There's alliteration and inversion enough, 
 *' surely ! I have advised him to frontis- 
 
 R 2
 
 244 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " piece his book with his own head. Capo 
 " di Traditore, ' the head of a traitor f then 
 " will come the title-page comment — 
 "Helir 
 
 I asked Lord Byron the meaning of a 
 passage in ' The Prophecy of Dante.' He 
 laughed, and said : 
 
 " I suppose I had some meaning when 
 " I wrote it : I believe I understood it 
 " then." * 
 
 * " 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. 215 
 
 *' That," said I, '' is what the disciples 
 of Swedenberg say. There are many peo- 
 ple who do not understand passages in 
 your writings, among our own country- 
 men : I w onder 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 trans- 
 
 " lation of the Fourth Canto of ' Childe 
 
 " Harold' has been made the subject of a 
 
 " University prize. But as to obscurity.
 
 246 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 elec- 
 " tricity of a cat's back ? 1 11 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 vo- 
 " lumes are written about, if his ghost 
 " were to rise again from the dead. I am 
 ** sure I wonder he and Shakspeare have 
 " not been raised by their commentators 
 " long ago 1" 
 
 " People are always advising me," said 
 " he, " to write an epic. You tell me
 
 LORD BYRON. 247 
 
 ** that I shall leave no great poem be- 
 " hind me ; — that is, I suppose you mean 
 *' by great, a heavy poem, or a weighty 
 " poem ; I believe they are synonymous. 
 " You say that ' Childe Harold' is une- 
 *' qual ; that the last two Cantos are far 
 " superior to the two first. I know it is a 
 " thing without form or substance, — a voy- 
 " age pittoresque. But who reads Milton ? 
 " My opinion as to the inequality of my 
 " poems is this, — that one is not 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
 
 248 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 fighting,— a 
 man who can snuff a candle three suc- 
 cessive times with a pistol-ball: and, de- 
 " pend upon it, my moral will be a good 
 *' one ; not even Dr. Johnson should be 
 " able to find a fiaw in it ! 
 
 " Some one has possessed the Guiccioli 
 
 * Only five Cantos of ' Don Juan ' were written 
 when I held this conversation Mith him, which 
 was committed to paper half an hour after it 
 I occurred. 
 
 ti 
 
 i(
 
 LOJtD RYROX. 249 
 
 " with a notion that my 'Don Juan' and 
 " the Don Giovanni of the Opera are the 
 " same person ; and to please her I have 
 " discontinued his history and adventures; 
 " but if I shoukl resume 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 un- 
 " natural 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,
 
 tc 
 
 IC 
 
 250 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 hors de combat, to England 
 *' as her ambassador. In his suite he shall 
 ** have a girl whom he shall have rescued 
 " 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 come from the 
 " females. 1 shall next draw a town and 
 " country life at home, which will give me 
 " room for life, manners, scenery, &c. I
 
 LORD BYRON. 251 
 
 '* 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 some- 
 " what problematical to me, pray who is
 
 252 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " to blame ? The fault is in his having 
 '' purchased, at the instance of his great 
 " friends, during the last year, so many ex- 
 " pensive Voyages and Travels*, which all 
 " his influence with * The Quarterly' can- 
 " not 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 ten- 
 " der 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 
 
 * " Death to his publisher — to him 'tis sport." 
 Don Juan., Canto V. Stanza 52.
 
 LORD BYRON. 253 
 
 " of a book of mine, till he has seen his 
 " old friends in a variety 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 af- 
 " terwards reduced it to 500/. on the plea 
 " of piracy ; and complained of my divid- 
 " in"" one Canto into two, because I hap- 
 " pened 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
 
 254 CONVERSATIONS OF , 
 
 " first Cantos that came out, only printing 
 " a quarto edition, at, I think, a guhiea 
 " 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 dis- 
 ** owned 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 booksellers. When 
 
 Don Juan ' first came out, he was so 
 
 « (
 
 LORD BYRON. 255 
 
 '* 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 pirati- 
 *' cal 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-sixpence that 
 " came only yesterday. I do not pity him. 
 " Because I gave him one of my poems, 
 " he wanted to make me believe that I 
 *' had made him a present of two others, 
 " and hinted at some lines in 'English 
 " Bards ' that were certainly to tlie point. 
 " But I have altered my mind considera- 
 " bly 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. ;
 
 256 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 enter- 
 " tained 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,' ' Man- 
 " fred, 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 abusing 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 per- 
 " ceive, however, that we shall have some 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 <{ 
 
 a
 
 (( 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 LORD B^RON. 257 
 
 " sparring ere long. I don't wish to 
 " quarrel with JVIurray, but it seems in- 
 " evitable. 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. I might have made my own 
 " terms, and put the money in my own 
 '* pocket; instead of which, I enclosed 
 " Galignani's letter to Murray, in order 
 *' that he might conclude the matter as 
 *' he pleased. He did so, very advantage- 
 " ously for his own interest ; but never 
 " had the complaisance, the common po- 
 " liteness, to thank me, or acknowledge 
 " my letter. My differences with Murray 
 " are not over. When he purchased 
 " * Cain,' ' The Two Foscari,' and ' Sarda- 
 " napalus,' he sent me a deed, which you 
 
 s
 
 258 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 quar- 
 rel; 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 bookseller 
 " can stain his press with so profane a 
 " book ? He is threatened with a ptose- 
 " cution by the Anti-constitutional Society. 
 " I don't believe they will venture to at- 
 
 i( 
 
 (( 
 
 (I
 
 LOJin BYRON. 259 
 
 " tack him: if they do, I shall go home 
 " and make my own defence." 
 
 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 con- 
 " nection. He had the choice of giving 
 " up me or the ' Navy Lists. ' There was 
 " no hesitation which way he should de- 
 " cide : the Admiralty carried the day. 
 " Now for ' The Quarterly :' their batte- 
 " ries 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 
 
 a * * -* " 
 
 s 2
 
 260 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 In a letter dated from Genoa the 5th 
 of May, 1823, he says : 
 
 u I 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 de- 
 " lighted by your inscribing your ' Wan- 
 " derer to me ; but I would recommend 
 " you to think twice before you inscribe 
 " a work to me, as you must be aware 
 " that at present I am the most unpopular 
 " writer going *, and the odium on the de- 
 
 * " But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero 
 My Leipsic, and my Mont Stc Jean seems Cain." 
 Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 5Q.
 
 LORD BYKON. 201 
 
 " dicatee may recur on the dedicator. If 
 " you do not think this a vaUd objection, 
 " of course there can be none on my 
 " part, " S:c. 
 
 On my speaking to him with great 
 praise one day of Coleridge's ' Ancient 
 Mariner,' Lord Byron said : 
 
 " I have been much taken to task for 
 " caUing 'Christabel' a wild and singu- 
 " larly 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 me- 
 " rit. It was written in 1795, and had a 
 " pretty general circulation in the literary
 
 262 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' world, though it was not pubhshed till 
 ' 1816, and then probably in consequence 
 ' of my advice. One day, when 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 October 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,
 
 LORD BYllON. 263 
 
 Hanging so light, and hanging so high, 
 
 On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.' 
 
 " Some eight or ten lines of ' Christa- 
 ** bel' * found themselves in 'The Sieije 
 " of Corinth,' I hardly know how ; but I 
 " adopted another passage, of greater 
 " beauty, as a motto to a little work I 
 " need not name -f , and paraphrased with- 
 " out 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 
 
 * " Was it the wind through some hollow stone. 
 Sent that soft and tender moan ? 
 He lifted his head—" &c. 
 
 Siege of Corinth. 
 
 t The stanzas beginning " Fare thee well !"
 
 264 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " great favourite of mine, and but for me 
 " would not have appeared. What per- 
 " feet 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 ' Ku- 
 bla Khan ?' " 
 
 " I can't tell you," said he ; " but it de- 
 " lights me."
 
 LORD BYRON. 265 
 
 And he went on till he had finished the 
 Vision. 
 
 " I was very much amused with Cole- 
 ridge's ' Memoirs/ There is a great 
 deal of bonhommie 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 : ' Hamil- 
 ton's Memoirs,' for instance, that were 
 the origin of the style of Voltaire. Ma- 
 dame 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 delightful. 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
 
 <i 
 
 (( 
 
 <c 
 
 266 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 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 tem- 
 " per that all his disappointments could 
 " not sour. Many parts of his * Memoirs * 
 " are quite unintelligible, and were, I ap- 
 " prehend, meant for Kant ; on the proper 
 " pronunciation of whose name I heard a 
 ** long argmuent the other evening. 
 
 " Coleridge is like Sosia in ' Amphy- 
 " trion ;' — he does not know whether he is 
 " himself, or not. If he had never gone 
 " to Germany, nor spoilt his fine genius by 
 *' the transcendental philosophy and Ger- 
 " man metaphysics, nor taken to write 
 " lay sermons, he would have made the
 
 LORD BYRON. 267 
 
 *' greatest poet of the day. What poets 
 " had we in 1795 ? Hay ley had got a mo- 
 " nopoly, 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 book- 
 seller's at Pisa, a report was in circulation 
 that a subject belonging to the Lucchese 
 States had been taken up for sacrilege, 
 and sentenced 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 deatli ! I sliall go
 
 268 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 to Lucca, — I would almost go to Spain, — 
 to see the wretch expire at the stake !" 
 Such were the humane and Christian sen- 
 timents of a minister of the Gospel ! 
 I quitted him with disgust, and immedi- 
 ately hastened to Lord Byron's. 
 
 " Is it possible ?" said he, after he had 
 heard my story. *' 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 
 
 n 
 
 ft
 
 LORD BYRON. 209 
 
 '' the Grand Duke of Tuscany will inter- 
 "" fere, for he has himself never signed a 
 *' death-warrant since he came upon the 
 " throne." 
 
 Shelley entered at this moment horror- 
 struck : he had just heard that the cri- 
 minal was to suffer the next day. He 
 proposed that we should mount and arm 
 ourselves as well as we could, set off im- 
 mediately for Lucca, and endeavour to 
 rescue the prisoner when brought out for 
 execution, making at full speed for the 
 Tuscan frontiers, where he woidd 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
 
 270 CONVEllSATIONS OF 
 
 get a petition signed by all the English 
 residents at Pisa, to be presented to the 
 Grand Duke. 
 
 " I will myself," said he, " write im- 
 " mediately to Lord Guilford." 
 
 He did so, and received an answer a 
 few hours after, telling him that the same 
 report had reached Lord Guilford ; but 
 that he had learned, on investigation, 
 that it was unfounded. 
 
 It appeared that the Duchess had is- 
 sued a proclamation which made the pea- 
 sant 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 stipulated not to 
 make him over to the authorities at Luc-
 
 LORD BYRON. 271 
 
 ca, 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 Eng- 
 " land. 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, She- 
 " ridan, and several of the Opposition 
 " leaders. 
 
 '* To the great horror of the former, 
 '* she soon sported her Ultraisms. No one 
 " possessed so little tact as Madame de
 
 272 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' 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 
 " said) Lord Grey, who was at his elbow, 
 " for his opinion. It was on some point 
 *' upon which he could not but most cor- 
 '' dially disagree. She did not under- 
 " stand 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 
 
 a 
 
 a
 
 LORD BYRON, 273 
 
 of in town that season : — Auguste (the 
 present Baron) was to have married 
 Miss Millbank ; J, the present Duchess 
 '* of Brogho. I could not have been worse 
 
 " embroiled. 
 
 C( 
 
 tt 
 
 iC 
 
 tt 
 
 " Madame de Stael had great talent in 
 conversation, and an overpowering flow 
 of words. It was once said of a 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 
 " peoples characters. She was a conti- 
 " nual interrogatory to me, in order to fa- 
 " thom mine, which requires a long plumb 
 
 T
 
 274 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' line. She once asked me if my real cha- 
 ' racter was well drawn in a favourite 
 ' novel of the day (' Glenarvon'). She 
 ' was only singular in putting the ques- 
 ' tion in the dry way she did. There 
 ' are many who pin their faith on that 
 ' insincere production. 
 
 ** No woman had so much honne foi as 
 " Madame de Stael : hers was a real kind- 
 " ness 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. 
 
 a 
 
 i(
 
 te 
 
 <( 
 
 LORD BYRON. 275 
 
 " Women never see consequences — 
 never look at things 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 she became 
 *' often obscure, and sometimes unintelli- 
 " gible. What did she mean by saying 
 " that ' Napoleon was a system, and not 
 " a man ?' 
 
 " I cannot believe that Napoleon was 
 " acquainted with all the petty persecu- 
 " tions that she used to be so garrulous 
 " about, or that he deemed her of suffi- 
 *' cient importance to be dangerous: be- 
 " sides, she admired him so much, that 
 
 T 2
 
 276 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " he might have gained her over by a 
 " word. But, hke me, he had perhaps 
 " too great a contempt for women ; he 
 " treated them as puppets, and thought 
 " he could make them dance at any time 
 *' by pulhng 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 con- 
 " duct to her was." 
 
 I told him I could never reconcile the 
 contradictory opinions he had expressed 
 of Napoleon in his poems. 
 
 " How could it be otherwise ?" said he. 
 " Some of them were called translations, 
 " and I spoke in the character of a French- 
 " man and a soldier. But Napoleon was
 
 LORD BYRON. 277 
 
 " 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. 1 blame the man- 
 " ner of his death : he shewed that he 
 *' possessed much of the Italian character 
 " in consenting 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 should have 
 " gone off the stage like a hero : it was 
 " expected of him. 
 
 " Madame de Stael, as an historian, 
 " should have named him in her ' Alle- 
 " magne ;' she was wrong in suppressing 
 " his name, and he had a right to be 
 " offended. Not that I mean to justify
 
 278 CONVEIISATIONS OF 
 
 '* his persecutions. These, I cannot 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 school of painting, prominent 
 
 *' and shewy, — standing out of the can- 
 
 " vass, each in a light 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 cle- 
 
 " ver man ; no one said better things, or 
 
 " with a better grace. The remark about 
 
 " the Meillerie road that I quoted, in the 
 
 (( 
 
 « 
 
 (( 
 
 ii
 
 LOUD BYRON. 279 
 
 " Notes of ' Childe Harold,' * La route 
 " vaut 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 list of 
 " grievances, against the Company and a 
 
 " Mr. S -. He charges the Government 
 
 " with sending him home without a trial, 
 " and breaking him without a Court-mar- 
 " tial ; and complains that a travelling 
 " gentleman, after having engaged him as 
 " an interpreter to accompany him to Per- 
 " sia, and put him to great expense in 
 " preparations for the journey, has all at 
 " once changed his mind, and refused to
 
 280 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " remunerate him for his lost time, or 
 " pay him any of the annual stipend he 
 " had fixed to give 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-morrow'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,
 
 LORD BYRON. 281 
 
 " who pretends to have discovered the 
 " manner of directing balloons by means 
 " of a rudder, and tells me that he is ready 
 " to explain the nature of his invention 
 " to our Government. I suppose we shall 
 " soon travel by air-vessels ; make air in- 
 " stead of sea-voyages ; and at length find 
 " our way to the moon, in spite of the 
 " want of atmosphere/' * 
 
 " CcelutJi ipsiim petimus stultitid" 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-engines will convey him to the moon." 
 Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 2.
 
 282 CONVERSATIONS 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 inven- 
 tions 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 Bri- 
 areus 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 283 
 
 " mass ? — and then we shall have tradi- 
 " tions 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' : 
 
 " The sense that he was greater than his kind 
 Had made, methinks, his eagle spirit blind 
 With gazing on its own exceeding light.'' 
 
 Talking of romances, he said : 
 
 " ' The Monk' is perhaps one of the 
 " best in any language, not excepting the 
 " German. It only wanted one thing, as 
 " I told Lewis, to have rendered it per- 
 *' feet. He should have made the daemon
 
 284 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " really in love with Ambrosio : this would 
 " have given it a human interest. * The 
 " Monk' was written when Lewis was 
 " only twenty, and he seems to have ex- 
 " hausted 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 Ger- 
 " many ; but the groundwork of ' The 
 " Monk' is neither original nor German ; 
 " it is derived from the tale of ' Santon 
 " Barsisa.' The episode of * The Bleed- 
 " ing Nun,' which was turned into a melo- 
 " drama, is from the German. 
 
 " There were two stories which he al- 
 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
 a
 
 LORD BYRON. 285 
 
 *' most believed by telling. One hap- 
 " pened 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 
 " parchment, or thick paper. This cir- 
 " cumstance caused enquiry, when it w^as 
 *' told him that the sounds were attribut- 
 " able 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 poor but 
 " amiable girl, to whom he was attached, 
 *' he w^as sent to sea. Years passed, and 
 " the mother heard no tidings of him, nor 
 " the ship in which he had sailed. It 
 " was supposed that the vessel had been 
 " wrecked, and that all on board had pe- 
 " rished. The reproaches of the girl, the
 
 286 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " upbraidings of her own conscience, and 
 " the loss of her child, crazed the old 
 " lady's mind, and her only pursuit be- 
 " came to turn over the Gazettes for news. 
 *' Hope at length left her : she did not 
 ^' live long, — and continued her old occu- 
 " pation after death. 
 
 " The other story that I alluded to be- 
 " fore, was the original of his ' Alonzo and 
 Imogene,' which has had such a host of 
 imitators. Two Florentine lovers, who 
 " had been attached to each other almost 
 " 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 
 
 <( 
 
 <(
 
 i( 
 
 te 
 
 LORD BYRON. 287 
 
 " heard the well-known sound of his foot- 
 " steps, and starting up beheld, not her 
 " husband, but his spectre, with a deep 
 " ghastly wound across his forehead, enter- 
 *' ing. 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, dis- 
 " tinctly 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 counterpart of her lover, that 
 " she became estranged from his ghost. 
 " Whilst the young gallant conducted her
 
 288 CONVERSATIONS OV 
 
 " 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 at- 
 *' tention, and now lost in the attractions 
 " of her fascinating partner, she heard 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 accus- 
 " tomed accents, ' Mina, I am here ! ' — She 
 instantly fell dead. 
 
 a
 
 LORD BYRON. 289 
 
 " Lewis was not a very successful wri-^/^^^ 
 *' ter. His 'Monk' was abused furiously by ? 
 " Matthias, in his * Pursuits of Literature,' 
 " and he was forced to suppress it. 'Abel- 
 *' lino' he merely translated. 'Pizarro' 
 " was a sore subject with him, and no 
 " wonder that he winced at the name. 
 '* Sheridan, who was not very scrupulous 
 " about applying to himself literary pro- 
 '* perty 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. 
 
 IT
 
 t( 
 
 l( 
 
 te 
 
 (I 
 
 290 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' But to return to Lewis. He was even 
 worse treated about ' The Castle Spec- 
 tre,' 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, (however he might find it 
 '' inconvenient to pay it if lost,) asked ea- 
 *' gerly 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 ex-
 
 <l 
 
 (( 
 
 LORD BYRON. 291 
 
 " traordinary compound of contradictions, 
 and Moore will be much puzzled in re- 
 conciling them for the Life he is writing. 
 *' The upper part of Sheridan's face was 
 " that of a God — a forehead most expan- 
 " sive, 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 himself. I myself never knew a 
 '* man, except Shelley, who was compa- 
 *' nionable 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-sto- 
 *' ries, which he had better have confined 
 
 u 2
 
 292 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' himself to telling. 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 monitor. 
 
 " Lewis was with me for a considerable 
 " period at Geneva ; and we went to Cop- 
 " pet several times together ; but Lewis 
 " was there oftener than I. 
 
 " Madame de Stael and he used to have 
 " violent arguments about the Slave Trade, 
 " — which he advocated strongly, for most
 
 LORD BYRON. 293 
 
 " of his property was in negroes and plan- 
 " tations. Not being satisfied with three 
 " thousand a-year, he wanted to make it 
 " five ; and would go to the West Indies ; 
 " but he died on the passage of sea-sick- 
 " ness, and obstinacy in taking an emetic." 
 
 I said to him, " You are accused of 
 owing a great deal to Wordsworth. Cer- 
 tainly there are some stanzas in the Third 
 Canto of ' Childe Harold' that smell strong- 
 ly 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
 
 294 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " me with Wordsworth physic even to 
 '* nausea: and I do remember then reading 
 " some things of his with pleasure. He 
 " had once a feehng of Nature, which he 
 " carried ahnost 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 the 
 " faculty of writing well. The lyrical 
 " ballads, Jacobinical and puling with af- 
 " fectation of simplicity as they were, 
 " had undoubtedly a certain merit * : and 
 
 * " Or Wordsworth unexcised, unhired, who 
 then 
 Season'd his pedlar poems with democracy.'* 
 
 Do)i JuaUy Canto III. Stanza 93.
 
 LORD BYRON. 295 
 
 " Wordsworth, though occasionally a wri- 
 " ter 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 waggoners. Shelley repeated 
 " to me the other day a stanza from ' Pe- 
 " ter Beir that I thought inimitably good. 
 " It is the rumination of Peter's ass, who 
 " gets into 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 parlour, 
 Cramm'd just as you on earth are crannii'd ?
 
 296 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Some sipping punch, some sipping tea. 
 And every one, as you may see. 
 All silent and all d d !' 
 
 " There 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 an- 
 " cient 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 Arca- 
 
 " dian 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
 
 I.OllD BYRON. 297 
 
 " Waterloo. There is something more 
 
 " than rhyme in that noted stanza contain- 
 
 **ing 
 
 * Yea, slaughter 
 
 Is God's daughter!'* — 
 
 " I offended the par nobile mortally — 
 " past all hope of forgiveness — many years 
 *' ago. I met, at the Cumberland Lakes, 
 " Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd, who had 
 " just been writing ' The Poetic Mirror,' 
 " a work that contains imitations 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 
 
 * Wordsworth's Thanksgiving Ode.
 
 298 CONVEIISATIONS OP 
 
 ' 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 fra- 
 * ternity. 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 re- 
 ' member saying, among other things, that 
 ' the Lake poets were such fools as not 
 ' to fish in their own 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 ?
 
 LORD EYRON. 299 
 
 " It was a mistake of mine, about his 
 " making the woods of Madeira tremble, 
 " &c. ; but it seems that I might have told 
 " him that there were no zvoods to make 
 " tremble with kisses, which would have 
 " been quite as great a blunder. 
 
 " I 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 con- 
 " versation takes a certain turn. I remem- 
 " ber 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,
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 300 CONVEKSATIONS OF 
 
 '' 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 
 " escape. 
 
 " I have been reading * Johnson's Lives/ 
 " a book I am very fond of. I look upon 
 " him as the profoundest of critics, and 
 " had occasion to study him when I was 
 " Avriting 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 un- 
 
 * a 
 
 I do remember thee., my Lord Biron," <&;c.
 
 a 
 
 iC 
 
 LOKD BYRON. 301 
 
 " der-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 erect- 
 " ing a monument to him at my own 
 " expense in Westminster Abbey, and 
 " hope to do so yet. But he was a Ca- 
 " tholic, and, what was worse, puzzled 
 " Tillotson and the Divines. That ac- 
 " counts for his not having any national 
 " monument. Milton, too, had very near- 
 " ly been without a stone ; and the men- 
 " tion of his name on the tomb of another 
 " was at one time considered 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."
 
 302 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Yes," replied Shelley ; " and he 
 might maintain the converse,— that every 
 truly rehgious man is a poet ; meaning by 
 poetry the power of communicating in- 
 tense and impassioned impressions re- 
 specting man and Nature." 
 
 When I entered the room, Lord By- 
 ron was devouring, as he called it, a new 
 novel of Sir Walter Scott's. 
 
 " How difficult it is," said he, " to say 
 anything new! Who was that volup- 
 tuary of antiquity, who offered a re- 
 " ward for a new pleasure ? Perhaps all 
 " nature and art could not supply a new^ 
 " idea. 
 
 " This page, for instance, is a brilliant 
 
 « 
 
 II
 
 LORD BYRON. 303 
 
 " one; it is full of wit. But let us see 
 " how much of it is original. This pas- 
 " sage, for instance, comes from Shak- 
 " speare ; this hon mot from one of She- ^ 
 " ridan'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 No- 
 " vels," said he : " they are a library in 
 " themselves— a perfect literary treasure.
 
 304 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' I could read them once a-year with new 
 " pleasure." 
 
 I asked him if he w^as certain about the 
 Novels being Sir Walter Scott's ? 
 
 " Scott as much as owned himself the 
 " author of ' Waverley' 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 Revo- 
 " lution. Scott, entirely off his guai'd, 
 *' 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 em- 
 " barrassment by a precipitate retreat. 
 
 " On another occasion I was to dine at
 
 LORD BYRON. 305 
 
 " 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, know- 
 " ing all the people present, I was satis- 
 " fied 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 versatility 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. 
 
 '' His mottoes from old plays prove that 
 " he, at all events, possesses the dramatic 
 
 X
 
 ;306 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " faculty, which is denied me. And yet 
 ** I am told that his ' HaUdon Hill' did 
 *' not justify expectation. I 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 concealment 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 307 
 
 " that it is known to be the work of 
 " Sir Phihp Francis, who reads it ? A 
 " pohtical writer, and one who descends 
 " to personaUties 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 India. He there seduced ano- 
 " ther man's wife. It would have been 
 " a new case for a Judge to sit in judg- 
 " ment 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 sit- 
 " ting up with the corpse, and said, ' Sol- 
 " der her up, solder her up !' He saw his 
 *' daughter crying, and scolded her, say- 
 " ing, ' An old hag — she ought to have 
 *' died thirty years ago !' He married, 
 
 X 2
 
 iC 
 
 <i 
 
 308 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 shortly after, a young woman. He 
 hated Hastings to a violent degree; 
 " all he hoped and prayed for was to out- 
 " live him. — But many of the newspapers 
 " of the day are written as well as Junius. 
 "Matthias's book, 'The Pursuits of Lite- 
 " rature/ 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 me- 
 " chanical part of the art. The Fire King 
 in * The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Bor- 
 der,' 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 
 
 i( 
 
 (I
 
 LOJID BYRON. 309 
 
 ** stage-coach ; — I mean that of 'Will 
 '* Jones.' 
 
 ' They boil'd Will Jones within the pot, 
 And not much fat had Will.' , 
 
 " 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
 
 310 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 Argonaut? I sup- 
 pose you meant to say that his poetry was 
 old and worn out." 
 
 * 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 af- 
 fected.
 
 LORD BYRON. 311 
 
 " You are very hard upon the dead* 
 " poet, — ^upon the late lamented Mr. Sa- 
 ** muel 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 * Nestor of little poets,' " 
 rejoined the other. " Compliments ought 
 never to have a double sense — a cross 
 meaning. And you seem to be fond of 
 
 * He used to tell a story of Rogers and 
 
 visiting the Catacombs 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 tired of your 
 countrymen! You don't mean to forsake them, 
 do you ?" 
 
 #
 
 312 CONVERSATIONS 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," rephed Lord 
 Byron, "I say 'The Pleasures of Memory' 
 " will live." 
 
 " The Pleasures of Mummery ! Pray 
 now, (speak candidly,) have you read since 
 you were a schoolboy, or can you, with 
 all your memory, repeat five lines of that 
 boasted ' Essay on Memory' that you have 
 been bepraising so furiously all your 
 life ? Instruct me where to find the gol- 
 den fleece. Be my Jason for once." 
 
 " I remember being delighted with ' The 
 " Pleasures of Memory' when I was at
 
 LORD BYRON. 313 
 
 '' 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 ' Plea- 
 sures,' &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
 
 314 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " with the fame mv 'Corsair' had, than 
 " with that of any other of my books. 
 ** Why ? for the very reason because it did 
 " shine, and in boudoirs. Who does not 
 " write to please the women ? And Ro- 
 " gers 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 Cow- 
 " per's,) that she went to France and mar- 
 " ried Crebillon. 
 
 " These are some of the sweets of au- 
 " thorship. 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 
 
 (( 
 
 {( i
 
 LORD BYRON. 315 
 
 " penmanship suggested the fair, taper fin- 
 " gers that indited them. But my ' Cor- 
 " sair' days are over. Heigh ho!" 
 
 " But what has all this to do with Ro- 
 gers, 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 like 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 dis- 
 " cussion, what does that prove but the 
 " general merit of the whole piece ? And 
 " the correspondence w^ill be valuable by 
 " and bye, and save the commentators a 
 " vast deal of labour, and waste of inge-
 
 316 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " nuity. 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 Maecenases are no bad things 
 " now-a-days, it is by no means true. Ro- 
 " gers has been a spoilt child ; no wonder 
 " 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 pub- 
 lication, 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 disrepute with the pub- 
 " lie, Rogers had composed some very 
 
 (( 
 
 ((
 
 LORD BYRON. 317 
 
 " pretty commendatory verses on me ; but 
 " they were kept corked up for many long 
 " years, under hope that I might reform 
 and get mto favour with the world again, 
 and that the said hues (for he is rather 
 *' costive, and does not hke to throw 
 " away his effusions) might find a place in 
 " ' Human Life.' But after a great deal 
 of oscillation, and many a sigh at their 
 hard destiny— their still-born fate,— they 
 " were hermetically sealed, and adieu to 
 '* my immortality ! 
 
 " Rogers has an unfortunately sensitive 
 " temper. We nearly quarrelled at Flo- 
 " rence. 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 
 " Sclmeider's; but Rogers happened to 
 
 {I 
 
 (( 
 
 (e 
 
 i(
 
 « 
 
 318 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " be in one of his ill humours, and abused 
 " the Italians. 
 
 " He is coming to visit me on his re- 
 " turn from Rome, and will be annoyed 
 " when he finds I have any English com- 
 " forts 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 damn- 
 *' ed. 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 quaU- 
 *' ties to counterbalance these littlenesses 
 " in his character. 
 
 " Rogers is the only man I know who 
 '* can write epigrams, and sharp bone-cut-
 
 LOUD UrilON. 319 
 
 " teis too, in two lines ; for instance, 
 " that on an M. P. who had reviewed 
 " his book, and said he wrote very 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 mistaken, * there- 
 by 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 pul])it as much as any man, 
 
 (( 
 
 (t
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 a 
 
 320 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' 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 undignified 
 " 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. 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 321 
 
 " 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 Russians, 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. Shelley being there, it was still 
 " more indecent. The Doctor is playing 
 " with penknives when he handles poets." 
 
 Y 
 
 »<
 
 322 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 The next morning he gave us a song 
 upon the Doctor, to the tune of " The 
 Vicar and Moses/' 
 
 " 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," 
 rephed he. " Perhaps it would have 
 " been better had I never returned ! I 
 " had become so much attached to the 
 " Morea, its chmate, and the hfe I led 
 " there, that nothing but my mother's 
 " death* and my affairs would have 
 " brought me home. However, after an 
 " absence of three years, behold ! I v» as 
 
 * In August 1811.
 
 LORD BYKON. 323 
 
 " again in London. My Second Canto 
 *' of ' Childe Harold ' was then just pub- 
 *' lished; and the impersonation of iny- 
 " self, 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 entr6 at Devon- 
 " shire-house, was in favour with Brum- 
 " mel, (and that was alone enough to 
 " make a man of fashion at that time ;) 
 " in fact, I w^as a lion — a ball-room bard 
 ** — a hot-pressed darling ! ' The Corsair 
 " put my reputation au coinhle, and had a 
 *' wonderful success, as you may suppose, 
 " by one edition being sold in a day. 
 
 '* Polidori, who was rather vain, once 
 
 y 2
 
 324 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 ' 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 men- 
 ' tioning. However, as I told you be- 
 ' fore, my ' Corsair' was sufficient to cap- 
 ' tivate all the ladies. 
 
 *' About tliis period I became what 
 ** the French call im homme ci bonnes 
 ''fortunes, and w^as engaged in a liaison, 
 " — and, I might add, a serious one. 
 
 * The fact is that nearly 10,000 of several of 
 Lord Byron's productions have been sold on the 
 first day of publication.
 
 I.ORD BYRON. 325 
 
 '' The lady had scarcely any personal 
 " attractions to recommend her. Pier 
 '' figure, though genteel, was too thin to 
 " be good, and wanted that roundness 
 " which elegance and grace would vain- 
 " ly supply. She was, however, young, 
 " and of the first connexions. Au reste, 
 " she possessed 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 of convenance, and no 
 " couple could be more fashionably indif- 
 " ferent to, or independent 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 affec- 
 " tions are concerned, — and was perhaps
 
 326 CONVERSATIONS OF , 
 
 " made without a heart, as many of the 
 " sex are ; but her head more than sup- 
 " pHed tlie deficiency. 
 
 *' I was soon congratulated by my 
 " friends on the conquest I had made, 
 " and did my utmost to shew that I was 
 " not insensible to the partiality I could 
 *' not help perceiving. I made every 
 *' effort to be in love, expressed as much 
 " ardour as I could muster, and kept 
 " feeding the flame with a constant sup- 
 " ply 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. 
 
 " It required no (Edipus to see where 
 " all this would end. I am easily govern-
 
 LORD BYRON. 327 
 
 " ed by women, and she gained an ascendr 
 " ancy 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. Jn 
 " 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.
 
 328 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Imagine the scene : it was worthy of 
 '' Faublas ! 
 
 " Her after-conduct was unaccountable 
 * madness — a combination 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 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. * * 
 
 ***** ^ 
 
 * ***** 
 
 * *****
 
 LORD BYRON. 329 
 
 " 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 her- 
 " self) 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 irritability 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 cling to thee, 
 And haunt thee like a feverish dream !
 
 330 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 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 cer- 
 tain 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 de- 
 sire I would be presented to him. I
 
 I,ORD BYRON. 331 
 
 " would willingly have declined the ho- 
 " nour, but could not with decency. His 
 " request was in the nature of a com- 
 " mand. He was very polite, for he is 
 " the politest man in Europe, and paid 
 " me some compliments that meant no- 
 " thing. This was all the civility he ever 
 " shewed me, and it does not burthen my 
 " conscience much. 
 
 " I will shew you my Irish ' Avatar a.' 
 " Moore tells me 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 expediency,
 
 332 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 bright 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 stiU stands, and the Senate 's no 
 more ; 
 And the famine that dwells on her freedomless 
 crags. 
 Is extending its steps to her desolate shore : —
 
 LORD BYRON. 333 
 
 To her desolate shore, where the emigrant stands 
 For a moment to pause ere he fl^es from his 
 hearth : 
 Tears fall on his chain, though it di'ops from his 
 hands, 
 For the dungeon he quits is the place of his 
 birth. 
 
 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 subUme 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 CoiTuption sank scerch'd from the glance 
 of his mind.
 
 334 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Ay ! back to our theme — back to despots and 
 slaves, 
 Feasts furnished by Famine — rejoicings by 
 Pain : 
 True Freedom but welcomes, while Slavery still 
 raves. 
 When 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 would 
 hide) 
 GUd over the palace, — lo ! Erin thy lord, — 
 
 Kiss his foot, with thy blessing, for blessings 
 denied ! 
 
 And if freedom past hope be extorted at last, — 
 If the idol of brass find his feet are of clay, — 
 
 Must what terror or poHcy Avrung forth be class'd 
 With what monarchs ne'er give, but as wolves 
 yield their prey?
 
 LORD BYllON. 335 
 
 But let not his name be tliine idol alone ! 
 
 On his right hand behold a Sejanns appears — 
 Thine own Castlereagh ! Let him still be thine 
 own ! — 
 A A\retch never named but with curses and 
 jeers, 
 
 TiU now, when this Isle, that should blush for his 
 l)irth, 
 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 
 The fancy, the manliood, the fire of her race, — 
 
 The miscreant who well might plunge Erin in 
 doul)t. 
 If she ever gave l)irth to a being so base !
 
 336 CONVEIISATIOKS OF 
 
 If she did, may her long-boasted proverb be 
 hush'd, 
 Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can 
 spring ! 
 See the cold-blooded serpent, with venom ftill 
 flush'd. 
 Still warming its folds in the heart of a king ! 
 
 Shout, drink, feast, and flatter ! Oh, Erin ! how 
 low 
 
 ^Vert thou sunk by misfortune and tyranny, till 
 Thy welcome of tyrants hath plunged thee below 
 
 The depth of thy deep in a deeper giUph 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 tliis heart, though outworn, had a throb 
 still for thee ! 
 
 He spoke on the Catholic Question.
 
 LOUD BYRON. 337 
 
 Yes ! I loved thee and thine, though thou wert not 
 my land ; 
 I have known noljle hearts and brave souls in 
 thy sons, 
 And I wept with delight on the patriot band 
 Who are gone, — Ijut I weep them no longer as 
 once ! 
 
 For happy are they now reposing afar — 
 
 Thy Curran, thy Grattan, thy Sheridan, — all, 
 "WTio 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 graves ! 
 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 their fetterless 
 clay ! 
 
 z
 
 338 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Till now I had envied thy sons and thy shore ! 
 Though then- 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 By- 
 ron, 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
 
 LOKD BYRON. 339 
 
 " 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. Hav- 
 " ing been found in the field after the re- 
 " moval of the wounded, he was recovered 
 " by the kindness and compassion of a 
 *' native, and restored to his family as one 
 " from the grave. On coming back to 
 " England, he employed himself entirely 
 " in the duties of his corps and the study 
 " of military tactics, and got a regiment: 
 
 z 2
 
 340 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " The French Revolution now broke out, 
 " and with it a flame of hberty 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 regimental mess, he ordered 
 " the band to play ' Ca ira,' the great re- 
 " volutionary air. A few days afterwards 
 *' he received 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 for two years among the 
 " native Indians ; and once again crossing 
 *' the Atlantic, settled on his family estate 
 " in Ireland, where he fulfilled all the du-
 
 LORD BYKON. 341 
 
 " ties of a country-gentleman and magis- 
 " trate. Here it was that he became ac- 
 " quainted with the O'Connors, and in 
 *' conjunction with them zealously exerted 
 *' himself for the emancipation of their 
 " counti-y. On their imprisonment he was 
 " proscribed, and secreted for six weeks 
 " in what are called the liberties of Dub- 
 " lin ; but was at length betrayed by a 
 " woman. 
 
 " 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 qualifications of a hero and
 
 342 CONVERSATIONS 0¥ 
 
 " a patriot ! Had he lived, perhaps Ire- 
 *' land had not now been a land of He- 
 " lots." 
 
 " 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 ex- 
 ploits, mixed up with innumerable hes 
 *' and lampoons upon others. Madame 
 " de Sta'el 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 
 
 (( 
 
 ((
 
 I.OllD KYKON. 343 
 
 " circumstance to the Florence fable, and 
 " gives me a principal instead of a subor- 
 " dinate part in a certain tragical history 
 " therein narrated. Unfortunately for my 
 " biographers, 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 mur- 
 " der is my instinct; and to make inno- 
 " cence 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 countenance of a person dying 
 " by stabs retained the character of fero- 
 " city, or of the particular passion im- 
 " printed on it, at the moment of dissolu- 
 " tion. A sage reviewer makes this com- 
 " ment on my remark :— ' It must have
 
 344 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " been the result of personal observa- 
 " tion!' 
 
 ** But I am made out a very amiable 
 " person in that novel ! The only thing 
 *' belonging to me in it, is part of a let- 
 " ter; but it is mixed up with much fic- 
 " titious and poetical matter. Shelley 
 
 " told me he was offered, by the 
 
 " bookseller in Bond Street, no small sum 
 " if he would compile the Notes of that 
 " book into a story ; but that he declined 
 " 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 ray acquaint- 
 " ance told me, that when that book was
 
 LORD BYRON. 345 
 
 *' going to tlie press, she was threatened 
 " with cutting a prominent figure in it if 
 
 " . But the story would only 
 
 " furnish 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 non- 
 " sense, which I paid no more attention 
 " to than I have to the continual culum- 
 " nies and lies that have been unceasingly 
 *' circulated about me, in public 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 wasp- 
 " ishness i)roduced by this discovery that 
 " I made him figure also in my * Beppo' 
 " as an ' antique gentleman of rhyme/
 
 346 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " a ' bustling Botlierby,' &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 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
 
 I>ORD BYRON. 347 
 
 " Moore to furnish hiin with some anec- 
 *' dotes of me ; and it was suggested that 
 " we should get up a series of the most 
 " unaccountable and improbable adven- 
 " tures, to gull the Parisian and travelling 
 " world with : but I thought afterwards 
 " that he had quite enough of the fabu- 
 " lous at command without oiu* inventing 
 " any thing new, which indeed would have 
 " required ingenuity.* 
 
 " You tell me that the Baron Lutze- 
 " rode has been asking you for some au- 
 
 * The reader will laugh when I tell him that it 
 was asserted to a friend of mine, that the lines 
 ' To Thyrza,' published with the First Canto of 
 'Childe Harold,' were addressed to — his bear. 
 There is notliing so malignant that hatred will 
 not invent, or folly believe.
 
 348 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " thentic particulars of my life, to affix td 
 *' his translation of ' Cain,' and thus con- 
 " tradict the German stories circulated 
 " about me, and which, I understand, 
 " even Goethe believes. Why don't you 
 " write something 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 per- 
 " haps 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 349 
 
 " 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 ; 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,
 
 350 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " with the motto 'Elle votis suit partout.'* 
 " This will please a German sentimen- 
 *' tahst." 
 
 " There is an acquaintance of mine 
 here," said I, " who has made a transla- 
 tion 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; *' T should 
 " like to see it. I never met with the 
 " * Meditations PoStiques :' bring it to- 
 
 " morrow." 
 
 * 
 
 See ' Don Juan,' Canto I. Stanza 198.
 
 LORD BYRON. 351 
 
 The next day I shewed him the Hues, 
 which he compared with the original, and 
 said they were admirable, and that he 
 considered them on the whole very com- 
 plimentary ! ! " 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 ambition of being one too." 
 
 " I take little interest," replied he, " in 
 " the politics at home. I am not made 
 " for what you call a politician, and should
 
 352 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " never have adhered to any party.* I 
 " should have taken no part in the petty 
 " hitrigues of cabinets, or the pettier fac- 
 " tions and contests for power among par- 
 " hamentary men. Among our statesmen, 
 ** Castlereagh is almost the only one whom 
 " I have attacked ; the only public cha- 
 " racter 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 speaking was 
 " not dignified enough for the Lords, but 
 
 * " The consequence of being of no party, 
 I shall offend all parties. Never mind ! " 
 
 Don Juan^ Canto IX. Stanza 26.
 
 LOUD 15YRON. 353 
 
 " 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 Manchester affair. 
 
 " Perhaps, if I had never travelled, — 
 " never left mj own country young, — my 
 " views would have been more limited. 
 " They extend to the good of mankind 
 *' in general— of the world at large. Per- 
 " haps the prostrate situation of Portugal 
 
 * A gentleman who was present at his maiden 
 speech, on the Catholic Question, says, that the 
 Lords left their seats and gathered round liim in 
 a circle ; a proof, at least, of the interest M'hich 
 he excited : and that the same style was at- 
 tempted in the Commons the next day, but 
 failed. 
 
 2 A
 
 354 CONVEIISATIONS OF 
 
 and Spain— the tyranny of the Turks in 
 Greece — the oppressions of the Austrian 
 Government at Venice — the mental de- 
 basement of the Papal States, (not to 
 mention 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 have risked my life and for- 
 tune for her, as I may yet for the 
 Greeks.* I am become a citizen of the 
 
 * " 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.OKD BYRON. 355 
 
 " 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. Maurocordato, too, (whom you 
 " know so well,) is also worthy of the best 
 " times of Greece. Patriotism and virtue 
 *' are not quite extinct." 
 
 I told him that I thought the finest 
 lines he had ever written were his " Ad- 
 dress to Greece," beginning — 
 
 " Land of tlie unforgotten brave ! " 
 
 I know not who may conquer : if I coukl 
 
 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. 
 2 A 2
 
 356 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 differently of the cause, — at least 
 
 * " But words are things ; — and a small drop of 
 ink, 
 Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces 
 That which makes thousands, perhaps mil- 
 lions, think." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto III. Stanza 88.
 
 LORD BYROM. 357 
 
 " of its success. I look upon the Morea 
 *' as secure. There is more to be appre- 
 " hended 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 
 fi<?htinoj ?" 
 
 " The Turks are not so despicable an 
 " enemy as people suppose. They have 
 ** been carrying on a war with Russia, or 
 " rather Russia with them, since Peter 
 *' the Great's time; — and what have they 
 " lost, till lately, of any importance ? In 
 " 1788 they gained a victory over the 
 " Austrians, and were very nearly making 
 " the Emperor of Austria prisoner, thougli 
 " his army consisted of 80,000 men.
 
 358 CONVEllSATTONS OF 
 
 " They beat us in Egypt, and took one 
 " of our generals. Their mode of fight- 
 " ing is not unformidable. Their cavalry 
 " falls very little short of ours, and is 
 *' better mounted — tlieir 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 standard to each. They 
 " come down, discharge their pieces, and 
 " are supplied by another party ; and so 
 " on in succession. When they charge, 
 '' it is by troops, like our successive 
 " squadrons." 
 
 " 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 emanci- 
 pation. That was your prophetic age;
 
 LORD BYRON. 359 
 
 Voltaire and Alfieri had theirs, and even 
 Goldsmith/' 
 
 Shelley, who was present, observed :— 
 " Poets are sometimes 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 ex- 
 *' pressed the same sentiments in one of 
 " its stanzas.* 
 
 * The lines to which he alluded were — 
 " Trust not for fi-eedoni to the Franks ; 
 
 They have a King who buys and sells : 
 
 In
 
 360 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I will telL you a plan I have in em- 
 '' bryo. I have formed a strong wish to 
 " join the Greeks. Gamba is anxious to 
 " be of the party. I shall not, however, 
 " leave Italy without proper authority 
 " and full power from the Patriot Govern- 
 " ment. I mean to write to them, and 
 " that will take time ; — besides, the Guic- 
 "cioH!*" 
 
 In native swords and native ranks, 
 The only hope of freedom dwells !" 
 
 Don Juan, Canto III. page 51. 
 
 * I have heard Lord Byron reproached for 
 leaving the Guiccioli. Her brother's accompany- 
 ing him to Greece, and his remains to England, 
 prove at least that the family acquitted him of 
 any blame. The distm'bed state of the country 
 rendered her embarking with him out of the
 
 LORD BYRO>J. 36 1 
 
 " 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 son- 
 *' nets 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 Unes of 
 " his Lordship's, advising Lady Holland 
 
 question ; and the confiscation of lier father's 
 property made her jointure, and his advanced 
 age her care, necessary to him. — It required all 
 Lord Byron's interest with the British Envoy, 
 as well as his own guarantee, to protect the 
 Gamhas at Genoa. But his own house at length 
 ceased to be an asylum for them, and they 
 were banished the Sardinian States a month be- 
 fore he sailed for Leghorn; whence, after laying 
 in the supplies for his voyage, he directed his 
 fatal course to the Morea.
 
 362 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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, laugh- 
 ing in his usual suppressed way, — 
 
 " Lady, reject the gift," &c. 
 
 and produced in a few minutes the follow- 
 ing 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,
 
 LORD BYRON. 363 
 
 ' of all manias, authorship is the most 
 ' inveterate. He might have learned by 
 ' this time, indeed many years ago, (but 
 ' people never learn any thing by expe- 
 ' rience,) 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 publish- 
 ' ing 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 suliscribes 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.
 
 3G4 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " 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 acknow- 
 *' ledged. I said what I thought of him 
 " the other day ; and all who are not 
 " bhnded by bigotry must think the same. 
 *' The works he wrote at seventeen are 
 '' much more extraordinary than Chatter- 
 *' ton's at the same affe." 
 
 A question was started, as to which he 
 considered the easiest of all metres in our 
 lanffuao;e.
 
 LORD BYHON. 365 
 
 " Or rather," replied 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 line, or one out of two, must 
 " be good. But blank verse is the most 
 " difiicnlt of all, because every line must 
 " be good." 
 
 " You might well say then," I ob- 
 served, " that no man can be a poet who 
 does any thing else." 
 
 During our evening ride the conversa- 
 tion happened to turn upon the rival 
 Reviews.
 
 366 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " I know no two men," said he, " who 
 " have been so infamously treated, as 
 " Shelley and Keats. If I had known 
 " that Mihnan 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 wliy I paid him the com- 
 " pliment. In consequence of the shame- 
 " less personality of that and another 
 ** number 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, Christia- 
 " nity would appear a bad religion for a
 
 LOUD BYRON. 307 
 
 poet, and not a very good one for a 
 man. His ' Siege of Jerusalem' is one 
 cento 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 Mil- 
 man : he owes his extravagant praise 
 to Heber. These Quarterly Reviewers 
 scratch one another's backs at a pro- 
 digious rate. Then as to Keats, though 
 I am no admirer of his poetry, I do not 
 envy the man, whoever he was, that 
 attacked and killed him. Except a 
 couplet of Dry den's, 
 
 * On his own bed of toitiire kH liini lie, 
 Fit garbage for the liell-hoiind infamy,' 
 
 " I know no lines more cutting than those
 
 368 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " in ' iVdonais,' * 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 
 
 ii 
 
 ti 
 
 *" The lines to which he referred were these : — 
 
 " Ex}3ect no heavier chastisement from me, 
 
 But ever at thy season be thou fi-ee 
 
 To spill their venom when thy fangs o'erflow. 
 
 Remorse and self-contempt shall cling to thee ; 
 Hot shame shall burn upon thy Cain-like brow, 
 And like a beaten hound trenijjle thou slialt as 
 
 now.'' 
 
 A doiiai.^.
 
 LORD BYRON. 36^ 
 
 " his style, and make himself one of the 
 " school, if he think it so divine. He 
 " will, like me, return some day to admire 
 " Pope, and think * The Rape of the 
 " Lock' and its sylphs worth fifty ' Endy- 
 " mions/ with their faun and satyr ma- 
 " chinery. I remember Keats some- 
 " where says that 'flowers would not 
 " blow, leaves bud,' &c. if man and wo- 
 " man did not kiss. How sentimental !" 
 
 I remarked that ' Hyperion' was a fine 
 fragment, and a proof of his poetical 
 genius. 
 
 " ' Hyperion ! ' " said he : ' why, a man 
 " might as well pretend to be rich who 
 " had one diamond. * Hyperion' indeed ! 
 " ' Hyperion ' to a satyr! Why, there is a 
 " fine line in Lord Thurlow (looking to 
 
 2 ij
 
 370 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " the West that was gloriously golden 
 *' with the sunset) which I mean to bor- 
 " row 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 impossible to adhere closely to 
 " costume. Captain Ellis once asked him 
 " if he had ever been in Persia. If he
 
 LORD BYRON. 371 
 
 ^' 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 ?" 
 
 " Because he wrote," said Lord Byron, 
 " in order to get the situation at the Bra- 
 " zils, and did not know a word of Portu- 
 " guese when he commenced." 
 
 " Moore was suspected of assisting his 
 Lordship," said I. Was that so ? " 
 
 " I am told not," said Lord Byron. 
 " They are great friends ; and when Moore 
 " was in difficulty about the Bermuda af- 
 
 2 B 2
 
 372 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " fair, in which he was so hardly used, 
 " Lord Straiigford offered to give him 
 " 500/. ; but Moore had too much inde- 
 " pendence to lay himself under an obh- 
 " gation. 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-guards- 
 " man, 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 w^as used by 
 " our hero, — all the alliteration is lost. 
 
 '' Moore is one of the few writers who
 
 LOI?D BYKON. 373 
 
 " will survive the age in which he so de- 
 " servedly flourishes, lie will live in his 
 '* * Irish Melodies ; ' they will go down to 
 " posterity with the music ; both will last 
 ** as long as Ireland, or as music and poe- 
 " try." 
 
 I took leave of Lord Byron on the 15th 
 of March, to visit Rome for a few weeks. 
 Shortly after my departure an affray hap- 
 pened at Pisa, the particulars of which 
 were variously stated. The Courier Fran- 
 cois gave the following account of it : — 
 
 " A superior officer went to Lord Byron 
 a few days ago. A very warm altercation, 
 the reason of which was unknown, occur- 
 red between this officer and the English 
 poet. The threats of the officer became 
 so violent, that Lord Byron's servant ran
 
 374 CONVKRSATIONS OF 
 
 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 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 
 
 * See the Appendix for the original depositions.
 
 LORD EYRON. 37^5 
 
 Mr. Shelley, was returning from his usual 
 ride, on the 21st March, 1822, and was 
 perhaps a quarter of a mile from the Piag- 
 gia 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 hus- 
 sar, for first and only answer, began to 
 abuse him in the grossest manner ; on 
 which Lord Byron and one of his com- 
 panions drew out a card with their names 
 and address, and passed on. The hus- 
 sar followed, vociferating and threatening, 
 with his hand on his sabre, that he would 
 draw it, as he had often done, effectually.
 
 376 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 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- 
 mand us to arrest them !' Upon which 
 the hussar gave the word to the guard at 
 the gate, ' Arrest— arrest them !' still con- 
 tinuing 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 soldiers, who flew to their muskets 
 and bayonets, whilst the gate was closed 
 on the rest, together with the courier, who 
 was foremost.
 
 LORD BYRON. 377 
 
 " Mr. Trelawney now found his horse 
 seized by the bridle by two soldiers, with 
 their swords drawn, and himself furiously 
 assaulted by the hussar, who made seve- 
 ral cuts at him with his sabre, whilst the 
 soldiers struck him about the thighs. 
 He and his companions were all un- 
 armed, and asked this madman the rea- 
 son 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 vised 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 
 thrusts he received from the hussar and 
 the rest of the soldiers. After all this.
 
 378 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 the hussar spurred on his horse, and took 
 the road to the Lung Arno. 
 
 " When his Lordship reached the pa- 
 lace, he gave directions to his secretary to 
 give immediate information to the pohee 
 of what was going on; and, not seeing 
 his companions come up, turned back to- 
 wards 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, answer- 
 ed, * No, I am not ! Tell me your name ! ' 
 — ' Serjeant- Major Masi,' said he. One of 
 his Lordship's servants came up at the 
 moment, and laid hold of the bridle of the 
 Serjeant's horse. His Lordship command- 
 ed him to let it go ; when the Serjeant 
 spurred his horse, and rushed through an
 
 LORD BYRON. 379 
 
 immense crowd collected before the Lan- 
 franchi palace, where, as he deposes, he 
 was wounded and his chaco 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." 
 
 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 Signor Major Masi Mas 
 knocked off his horse as he galloped past 
 the Lanfranchi palace, Lord Byron and his
 
 380 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 servants being at a considerable distance 
 therefrom at the time/' 
 
 It appears that Signer Major Masi was 
 wounded with a pitchfork, and his hfe 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 
 pohce that, being Itahans and much at- 
 tached to their master,* they had revenged 
 his quarrel ; but no proof was adduced to 
 justify the suspicion. 
 
 * Lord Byron was the best of masters, and 
 was perfectly adored by his servants. His kind- 
 ness was 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 381 
 
 During the time that the examination 
 was taking place before the police. 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 
 
 after our ride, meeting a littk^ boy, of three or 
 four years old, of the coachman's, whom he took 
 up in his arms and presented with a ten-Paul 
 piece.
 
 382 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 from 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 Leg- 
 horn, 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 
 Tuscan 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 pa- 
 lace, where Leigh Hunt and his family 
 had already arrived. 
 
 18th August, 1822. — On the occasion 
 of Shelley's melancholy fate I revisited
 
 LORD BYRON. 383 
 
 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 
 
 * It is hoped that the following memoir, as 
 it relates to Lord Byron, may not be deemed 
 misplaced here. 
 
 Percy Bysshe Shelley was removed from a pri- 
 vate school at thirteen, and sent to Eton. He 
 there shewed a character of great eccentricity, 
 mixed in none of the amusements natm'al to his 
 age, was of a melancholy and reserv^ed disposition, 
 fond of solitude, and made few friends. Neither 
 did he distinguish himself much at Eton, for he 
 had a great contempt for modera 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
 
 384 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 marked bv an old and withered trunk of 
 a fir-tree ; and near it, on the beach, stood 
 
 probably imbibed a romantic turn of mind ; at 
 least, we find him before fifteen publishing two 
 Rosa-Matilda-like novels, caUed ' Justrozzi' and 
 *^The Rosicrucian,' tliat 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 che- 
 mistry. He used to say, that nothing ever de- 
 lighted him so much as the discovery that there 
 were no elements 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 pursuit. 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 entered into an epistolary theological con- 
 troversy with a dignitary of the Church, under
 
 LORD BYRON. 385 
 
 a solitary hut covered with reeds. The 
 situation was well calculated for a poet's 
 
 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 work, which was only a recapitulation 
 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, refusing to retract his opi- 
 nions, on the contrary preparing to argue them 
 witli the examining Masters, was expelled the 
 University. This disgrace in itself affected Shel- 
 ley 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 even- 
 tual means of alienating him for ever from his 
 family. For some weeks ^after this expulsion his 
 
 2 c 
 
 A<
 
 386 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 grave. A few weeks before I had ridden 
 with him and Lord Byron to this very spot, 
 
 father refused to receive him under his roof ; and 
 when he did, treated him with such marked cold- 
 ness, that he soon quitted what he no longer con- 
 sidered his home, went to London privately, and 
 thence eloped to Gretna Green with a Miss West- 
 brook, — their united ages amounting to thiii;y- 
 three. This last act exasperated his father to 
 such a degree, that he now broke off all com- 
 munication with Shelley. After some stay in 
 Edinburgh, we trace him into Ireland ; and, that 
 country being in a disturbed state, find him pub^ 
 lishing a pamphlet, which had a great sale, and 
 the object of which was to soothe the minds of 
 the people, teUing them that moderate firmness, 
 and not open rebellion, would most tend to con- 
 ciliate, and to give them then' liberties. 
 
 He also spoke at some of their public meetings 
 with great fluency and eloquence. Returning
 
 LORD BYRON. 387 
 
 which I afterwards visited more than once. 
 In front was a magnificent extent of the 
 
 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 imbuing 
 himself with 'The Age of Reason,' 'Spinosa,' 
 and ' The Political Justice,' comix»sed 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 ima- 
 " gination. 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 and mine differ ma- 
 " terially upon the metaphysical portion of that 
 " work ; though, in common with all who are 
 
 2 c 2
 
 388 CONVEllSATIONS OF 
 
 blue and windless Mediterranean, with the 
 Isles of Elba and Gorgona,— Lord Byron's 
 
 " not blinded by baseness and bigotry, I highly 
 " admire the poetry of that and his other pro- 
 " ductions." It is to be remarked here, that 
 ' Queen Mab ' eight or ten years afterwards fell 
 into the hands of a knavish bookseller, who 
 published it on his own accovmt ; 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 chil- 
 dren, soon turned out (as might have been ex- 
 pected) an unhappy one, and a separation en- 
 suing in 1816, he went abroad, and passed 
 the summer of that year in Switzerland, where 
 the scenery of that romantic country tended 
 to make Nature a passion and an enjoyment; 
 and at Geneva he formed a friendship for
 
 LORD BYRON. 389 
 
 yacht at anchor in the offing : on the otlier 
 side an almost boundless extent of sandy 
 
 Lord Byron, which was destined to last for Hfe. 
 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 autunm 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 Euganean Hills, 
 marked with great i)athos 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 sub- 
 sequent to this event he married ]\Iary AVolstone- 
 craft Godwin, daughter of the celebrated Mary 
 Wolstonecraft and Godwin. Finding, soon after
 
 390 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 A\dlderness, uncultivated and uninhabited, 
 here and there interspersed in tufts with 
 
 his coming of age, that he was entitled to some re- 
 versionary property in fee, he sold it to his father 
 for an annuity of 1000/. a-year, and took a house 
 at Marlow, where he persevered more than ever 
 in his poetical and classical studies. It was dui'- 
 ing his residence in Buckinghamshire that he 
 wrote his ' Alastor, or the Spirit of SoUtude ; ' 
 perhaps one of the most perfect specimens of 
 harmony in blank verse that our language pos- 
 sesses, and fuU of the wild scenes which his ima- 
 gination had treasured up in his Alpine excur- 
 sions. 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 found that he could not live 
 on his income ; and, stiQ unforgiven by his family.
 
 LOUD BYRON. 391 
 
 underwood curved by the sea-breeze, and 
 stunted by the barren and dry nature of 
 
 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 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 Black- 
 wood's Magazine, it fell under the lash of ' The 
 Quarterly,' which indulged itself in much per- 
 sonal abuse of the author, both openly in the 
 review of that work, and insidiously under the 
 critique of Hunt's ' FoUage.' Perhaps Httle 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 nature,
 
 392 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 the soil in which it grew. At equal dis- 
 tances along the coast stood high square 
 
 and looked forward to a period when a new gold- 
 en age would return to earth, — when all the 
 different creeds and systems of the world would 
 be amalgamated into one, — crime disappear, — and 
 man, freed from shackles civil and religious, 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 " re- 
 volt" may be considered, the object of his whole 
 life and writings seems to have been to develope 
 them. This is particularly observable in his next 
 work * The Prometheus Unbound,' a bold attempt
 
 I,OTiD BYRON. 393 
 
 towers for the double purpose of guard- 
 ing the coast from smuggUng, and en- 
 
 to revive a lost play of TEschylus. 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 riiins of the Baths of Cara- 
 calla. At Rome also he formed the story of 
 ' The Cenci' into a tragedy, which, but for the 
 harrowing nature of the subject, and tlie pre- 
 judice against any thing l)earing his name, could 
 not have failed to have had the greatest suc- 
 cess, — if not on the stage, at least in the 
 closet. 
 
 After passing several months at Naples, he 
 finally settled with his lovely and amialjle wife in 
 Tuscany, where he passed the last four years in 
 domestic retirement and intense application to 
 study.
 
 394 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 forcing the quarantine laws. This view 
 was bounded by an immense extent of the 
 
 His acquirements were great. He was, per- 
 haps, the first classic in Europe. 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 lan- 
 guages. Calderon in Spanish, Petrarch and Dante 
 in Itahan, and Goethe and Schiller in German, 
 were his favourite authors. French he never 
 read, and said he never could understand the 
 beauty of Racine. 
 
 Discouraged by the ill success of his writings — 
 persecuted by the malice of reviewers, to which he 
 was not indifferent — for the last three years, though 
 he continued to write, he had almost given up pub- 
 Ushing. There were two occasions, however, that 
 induced him to break through his resolution. His 
 ardent love of Uberty inspired him to write ' Hellas,
 
 LORD. BYRON. 395 
 
 Italian Alps, which are here particularly 
 picturesque from their volcanic and ma- 
 
 or the Triumph of Greece,' a drama, since trans- 
 lated 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 con- 
 sidered so. Among the mourners at the fimeral 
 of his poet-friend he draws this portrait of him- 
 self ; (the stanzas w^ere 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 exi)ii-ing storm. 
 Whose thunder is its knell. He, as I guess. 
 Had gazed on Nature's naked loveUness
 
 396 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 nifold appearan«es, and which being com- 
 posed of white marble, give their summits 
 the resemblance of snow. 
 
 Actseon-like ; and now he fled astray 
 With 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 Ught 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 !"
 
 LORD BYRON. 397 
 
 As a foreground to this picture appear- 
 ed as extraordinary a group. Lord Byron 
 
 The last eighteen months of Shelley's life were 
 passed in daily intercourse with Lord Byron, to 
 whom the amiability, gentleness, and elegance of 
 his manners, and his great talents and acquire- 
 ments, had endeared him. Like his friend, he 
 wished to die young : he perished in the twenty- 
 ninth year of his age, in the Mediterranean, be- 
 tween Leghorn and Lerici, from the ui)setting 
 of an open boat. The sea had been to him, 
 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 :
 
 398 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 and Trelawney were seen standing over 
 the burning pile, with some of the soldiers 
 
 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 undiscovered ; 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, 
 superintended the ceremony which I have de- 
 scribed. 
 
 The remains of one who was destined to have 
 little repose or happiness here, now sleep, with
 
 LORD BYRON. 399 
 
 of the guard; and Leigh Hunt, whose 
 feehngs 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. 
 
 (C 
 
 Why, that old black silk handker- 
 
 those of his friend Keats, in the burial-ground 
 near Caius Cestus's Pyramid ; — " a spot so beau- 
 tiful," said he, that it might almost make one in 
 love with death."
 
 400 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " chief retains its form better than that 
 '* human body ! " 
 
 Scarcely was the ceremony concluded, 
 when Lord Byron, agitated by the specta- 
 cle he had witnessed, tried to dissipate, in 
 some degree, the impression of it by his 
 favourite recreation. He took off his 
 clothes therefore, and swam off to his 
 yacht, which was riding a few miles dis- 
 tant. The heat of the sun and checked 
 perspiration threw him into a fever, which 
 he felt coming on before he left the water, 
 and which became more violent before he 
 reached Pisa. On his return he imme- 
 diately ordered a warm bath. 
 
 " I have been very subject to fevers," 
 said he, " and am not in the least alarmed
 
 LOJID BYIION. 401 
 
 " at this. It will yield to my usual re- 
 " medy, the bath." 
 
 The next morning he was perfectly re- 
 covered. When I called, I found him 
 sitting in the garden under the shade 
 of some orange-trees, with the Countess. 
 They are now ahvays together, and he is 
 become quite domestic. He calls her 
 Ficcinina, and bestows on her all the 
 pretty diminutive epithets that are so 
 sweet in Italian. His kindness and atten- 
 tion to the Guiccioh have been invariable. 
 A three years' constancy proves that lie is 
 not altogether so unmanageable by a sen- 
 sible woman as might be sup[)osed. In 
 fact no man is so easily led : but he is not 
 to be driven, llis spirits are good, except 
 when he speaks of Shelley and Williams. 
 
 2 D
 
 402 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 He tells me he lias 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. 
 
 " 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 feeling 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
 
 LOKD BYRON, 403 
 
 ** on that occasion. It was manly in him 
 ** to brave the ol^loquy of standing alone. 
 
 " Shelley and myself furnished some 
 *' time ago a suite of apartments in my 
 " house for him, which he now occupies, 
 *' I believe I told you of a plan we had in 
 ** agitation 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 ad- 
 " vised by Tom Moore, long ago, not to 
 *' have any connection with such a com- 
 '" pany as Hunt, Shelley, and Co. ; but I 
 " have pledged myself, and besides could 
 
 2 D 2
 
 404 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " not now, if I had ever so great a dis- 
 " inclination for the scheme, disappoint 
 *' ail Hunt's hopes. He has a large fa- 
 *' mily, has undertaken a long journey, 
 " and undergone a long series of per- 
 " secutions. 
 
 " Moore tells me that it was proposed 
 " to him to contribute to the new pub- 
 " lication, but that he had declined 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 feel- 
 " ing, if he had not been spoiled by cir- 
 *' cumstances. He was brought up at 
 " the Blue-coat foundation, and had never 
 " till lately been ten miles from St. Pauls.
 
 LORD BYRON. 405 
 
 ** What poetry is to be expected from 
 '' such a course of education? He has 
 " his school, however, and a host of dis- 
 " ciples. A friend of mine calls ' Rimini,' 
 " Nimini Pimini; and 'Foliage/ Folly- 
 " age. Perhaps he had a tumble in 
 " ' climbing trees in the Hesperides ! ' * 
 " But ' 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 Ame- 
 " rica ; and when the Gambas were or- 
 " dered out of Tuscany, was on the point 
 " of embarkation for the only country 
 " which is a sanctuary for liberty. 
 
 * The motto to his book entitled ' Foliage.' 

 
 406 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " Since I have been abroad, I have 
 " received many civihties from the Ame- 
 " ricans * ; among the rest, I was ac- 
 " quainted 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 
 
 * I have been favoured vidth a sight of a letter 
 addressed bv 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
 
 LOUD T^YRON. 407 
 
 " 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 
 
 " nothing Init from some of the refugees, who 
 " appear chiefly interested for themselves. My 
 " accounts from an agent of the Committee, an 
 " English gentleman lately gone up to Greece, 
 " are hitherto favourable ; but he had not yet 
 " reached the seat of the Provisional Government, 
 " and I am anxiously expecting further advice. 
 
 " An American has a better riglit than any 
 *' other to suggest to other nations the mode 
 " of obtaining that hberty whicli is the glory of 
 " his own !" 
 
 ^
 
 408 CONVERSATIONS OK 
 
 " 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 were very different from the treat- 
 " ment I met with from the captain of a 
 *' sloop of war belonging to our Navy, 
 " who made the gentleman command- 
 " ing my yacht haul down my pennant. 
 " They might have respected the name of 
 " the great navigator.* In the time of 
 
 * 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. 401) 
 
 " peace, and in a free port, there 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 with- 
 " out 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 persecuted. I am going to Genoa 
 " in a few days." 
 
 " I have almost finished," said he, *' ano- 
 " ther play, which I mean to call ' Wer- 
 *' ner.' The story is taken from Miss 
 " Lee's ' Kruitzner.' There are fine 
 " things in ' The Canterbury Tales ;' but 
 " Miss Lee only wrote two of them : the
 
 410 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " others are the compositions of her 
 " sister, and are vastly inferior. 
 
 r " There is no tale of Scott's finer than 
 ' The German's Tale.' I admired it 
 'jwhen I was a boy, and have continued 
 \ to like what I did then. This tale, I 
 ' remember, particularly affected me. I 
 ' could not help thinking of the au- 
 ' thoress, 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. 
 
 " ' y^^^^ was another of the tales I 
 " had a very early admiration of. You 
 " may remember a passage I borrowed 
 " from it in ' The Siege of Corinth,' which
 
 I^ORT) BYTION. 411 
 
 " I almost took verbatim.* No French- 
 " man will believe that * Vathek' is the ■ 
 " work of a foreigner. It was written at ) 
 " seventeen. What do you think of the ( 
 " Cave of Eblis, and the picture of Eblis 
 " himself? There is poetry. 1 class it 
 *' in merit with (though it is a diife- 
 " rent sort of thing from) ' Paul and 
 *' Virginia,' and Mackenzie's * Man of 
 
 * " 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 Cor'uUh,
 
 412 CONVERSATIONS 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 alteration in it 
 for pages together. I remember retain- 
 ing in my memory one passage, which 
 he repeated to me, and which I consider 
 quite Shakspearian. 
 
 " Four- 
 Five — six hours I have counted, Uke the guard 
 
 Of outposts, on the never-merry clock, — 
 That hollow tongue of time, which, even when 
 It sounds for joy, takes something from enjoy- 
 ment 
 AVith 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
 
 LORD BYRON. 413 
 
 In the grave of possession ; whilst the knoll 
 Of long-lived parents finds a jovial echo 
 To triple time in the son's ear." 
 
 " 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 pro- 
 " duced. I desired Murray to inscribe 
 " his name to a former work ; but he pre- 
 " tends 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
 
 414 CONVEHSATIONS OF 
 
 / *' myself with thinking there is some ana- 
 ." logy between our characters and writ- 
 >^ings. So much interest do I take in 
 " him, that I offered to give 100/. to any 
 " person who would translate his * Me- 
 " moirs/ for my own reading.* Shelley 
 " has sometimes explained part of them 
 *' to me. He seems to be very supersti- 
 " tious, 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. I have been urging 
 *' Shelley to translate it; but he said 
 *' that the translator of ' Wallenstein' was 
 *' the only person living who could ven- 
 
 * An English translation of this interestinsr 
 work has lately appeared, in 2 vols. 8vo.
 
 LORD BYRON. 415 
 
 " ture to attempt it ; — that he had writ- 
 " ten to Coleridge, but in vain. For a 
 *' man to translate it, he must think as 
 " he does/' 
 
 " How do you explain," said I, " the 
 first line, — 
 
 * The sun thiinders 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 be- 
 " gan at Cambridge. We led the same
 
 416 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " sort of life in town, and travelled in 
 *' company 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 v>^ere at Ve- 
 " nice, 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 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 Harley was my 
 " lanthe. 
 
 " Hobhouse's Dissertation on Italian 
 " literature is much superior to his Notes 
 " on ' Childe Harold.' Perhaps he under- 
 " stood the antiquities better than Kibbi,
 
 LOUD EYKON. 417 
 
 *' or any of the Cicerones; but the kuow- 
 " ledge is somewhat misplaced 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 won- 
 " derfully 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: " lorn ne comptez pas 
 
 2 E
 
 418 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 Stir ma chaise-d-porteur" said she. I am 
 often with him from the time he gets up 
 till two or three o'clock in the morning, 
 and after sitting up so late he must re- 
 quire 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 airing. 
 He seems to be able to resume the thread 
 of his subject at all times, and to weave 
 it of an equal texture. Such talent is 
 that of an improvisator e. The fairness 
 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 line 
 in subsequent editions. I do not believe
 
 LORD UYKON. 419 
 
 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 remembering that 
 he has ever known. 
 
 I never met with any man who shines 
 so much in conversation. He shines the 
 more, perhaps, for not seeking to shine. 
 His ideas flow without effort, without 
 his having 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 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 
 
 2 E 2
 
 420 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 of diffuseness in others, hates long stories, 
 and seldom repeats his own. If he has 
 heard a story you are telling, he will say, 
 " You told me that," and with good 
 humour sometimes finish it for you him- 
 self 
 
 He hates argument, and never argues 
 for victory. He gives every one an op- 
 portunity of sharing in the conversation, 
 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
 
 I.OTID BYRON. 421 
 
 whole fortune on the Greeks ; to-day di- 
 minisliing his stud — to-morrow taking a 
 large family under his roof, or giving 
 1000/. for a yacht ;* dining for a few Pauls 
 when alone — spending hundreds when he 
 has friends. " Nil fuit unquam sic impar 
 sibi." 
 
 I am sorrv to find that he has become 
 
 ft/ 
 
 more indolent. He has almost discon- 
 tinued his rides on horseback, and has 
 starved himself into an unnatural thin- 
 ness ; and his digestion 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, 
 
 * 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 !
 
 422 CONVEllSATIONS OF 
 
 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 inspi- 
 " ration. 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 presentiment. 
 He was preparing for his journey to Ge- 
 noa, whither he went a few days after my 
 departure. I shall, I hope, be excused 
 in presenting the public with the follow- 
 ing sketch of his character, drawn and
 
 LORD BYRON. 423 
 
 sent to a friend a few weeks after his 
 death, and to which I adapted the fol- 
 lowing motto :* 
 
 Aarrip irpiv /it£i' eXa/HTTeg evi L,tooi(Ttv ILwog, 
 
 " Born an aristocrat, I am naturally one 
 by temper/' said Lord Byron. Many of 
 
 * The following passage in an unj^ulilished life 
 of Alfieri, which I lately met with, might not in- 
 aptly be applied to Lord Byron : 
 
 " Des son enfance tons les symptomes d'un 
 caractere fier, indomtable et melancolique se mani- 
 fest^rent. Tacitm^ne et tranquille a rordinaire, 
 mais quelquefois tr^s babillard, tres vif, et presque 
 toujours 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 fut-il dans ses jeunes 
 
 annees."
 
 424 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 the lines in ' The Hours of Idleness,' par- 
 ticularly the Farewell to Nevvstead, shew 
 that in early life he prided himself much 
 on his ancestors : but it is their exploits 
 that he celebrates; and when he men- 
 tioned his having had his pennant hauled 
 down, he said they might have respected 
 a descendant of the great navigator. Al- 
 most from infancy he shewed an inde- 
 pendence of character, which a long mi- 
 nority and a maternal education contri- 
 buted to encourage. His temper was 
 quick, but he never long retained anger. 
 Impatient of control, he v/as too proud 
 to justify himself when right, or if ac- 
 cused, to own himself wrong ; yet no man 
 was more unopiniated, more open to con- 
 viction, and more accessible to advice,* 
 
 * \i 
 
 Perhaps of all his friends Sir Walter Scott
 
 LORD BYRON. 425 
 
 when he knew that it proceeded IVom 
 friendship, or was motived hy affection 
 or regard. 
 
 " Though opposed to the foreign pohcy 
 of Enghind, he was no revohitionist. The 
 hest proof of his prizing the 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 as- 
 
 had the most influence over him. The sight of 
 his hand-writing, he said, put him in spirits for 
 the day. Shelley's disapprobation of a poem 
 caused him to destroy it. In compliance with the 
 wishes of the })ul)Iic, he relintjuished 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." 
 hlvtract from a Ldtcr to a Friend, writlen at 
 Pisa.
 
 426 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 pirations were for Greece, her liberty and 
 independence. 
 
 " Like Petrarch, disappointed love, per- 
 haps, made him a poet. You know my 
 enthusiasm about him. I consider him in 
 poetry what Michael Angel o was in paint- 
 ing : he aimed at sublime and effect, rather 
 than the finishing of his pictures ; he flat- 
 ters the vanity of his admirers by leav- 
 ing them something to fill up. If the 
 eagle flights of his genius 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 from all 
 others. He told me that, when he wrote.
 
 LORD BYRON. 427 
 
 he neither knew nor cared what was com- , 
 mg next.* This is the real inspiration of ', 
 the poet. 
 
 " Which is the finest of his works ? — 
 It is a question I have often heard dis- 
 cussed. I have been present when ' Childe 
 Harold; ' Manfred/ ' Cain,' ' The Cor- 
 sair,' 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-t 
 
 # 
 
 -" But, note or text, 
 
 I never know the word wliicli will come next." 
 T)on Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 41. 
 
 f I alluded to Sir E. Brydges' Letters. 
 
 ]^
 
 I 
 
 428 CONVEKSATIONS OF 
 
 *' 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 confound virtue and vice ; 
 but if the shafts of his ridicule fell on 
 mankind in general, they were only levelled 
 against the liypocritical cant, the petty 
 interests, and despicable cabals and in- 
 trigues 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 patriotism, self- 
 sacrifice, or disinterestedness, inspired him 
 with the sublimest emotions, and the most 
 glowing thoughts and images to express
 
 I.OllD LYRON. 429 
 
 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 po- 
 litical, with which he has been assailed. 
 But ' in defiance of politics, — in defiance 
 of personality, — his strength rose with 
 oppression ; and, laughing his opponents 
 to scorn, he forced the applause he dis- 
 dained 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 ? 
 
 ' Bright, brave, and glorious was his young 
 career ! ' 
 
 And on his tomb may be inr-cribed, as 
 is on that of Raleigh —
 
 430 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 * Reader ! should you reflect on his errors, 
 Remember his many virtues, 
 And that he was a mortal ! ' " 
 
 The high admiration in which Lord 
 Byron was held in Germany may be ap- 
 preciated by the following communication, 
 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 feelings, and fire of his immortal 
 genius. 
 
 ''Webnar, IQth July, \Q2A. 
 
 " It has been thought desirable to have 
 some details relative to the communication 
 that existed between Lord Noel Byron, 
 alas ! now no more ! and Goethe : a few 
 words will comprise the whole subject.
 
 I-OKD BYRON. 431 
 
 " The German poet, who, up to his 
 advanced age, has habituated himself to 
 weigh with care and impartiahty the merit 
 of ilhistrious 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 
 important and uninterrupted career. 
 
 " It was easy to observe that the public 
 appreciation of his merit as a poet in- 
 creased progressively with the increasing 
 perfection of his works, one of which 
 rapidly succeeded another. The interest 
 which they excited had been productive 
 of a more unmingled delight to his friends,
 
 432 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 if self-dissatisfaction and the restlessness 
 of liis 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 noble- 
 ness 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 irre- 
 concileable, and which interested him 
 the more forcibly, inasmuch as he could 
 discover no parallel in past ages with 
 which to compare them, and found him- 
 self utterly destitute of the elements ne- 
 cessary to calculate respecting an orb so 
 eccentric in its course.
 
 LORD BYRON. 433 
 
 " In the mean while, the German and 
 his occupations did not remain altogether 
 unknown or unattended to by the Eng- 
 lish writer, who not only furnished un- 
 equivocal proofs of an acquaintance with 
 his works, but conveyed to him, through 
 the medium of travellers, more than one 
 friendly salutation. 
 
 *' Thus I was agreeably surprised by 
 indirectly receiving the original sheet of 
 a dedication of the tragedy of ' Sardana- 
 palus,' conceived in terms the most ho- 
 nourable 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 diffi- 
 
 2 1
 
 434 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 dence 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 inex- 
 haustible in the materials of his subjects ; 
 — and he felt no disappointment when, 
 after many delays, ' Sardanapalus ' ap- 
 peared without the preface : he, in reality, 
 already thought himself fortunate in pos- 
 sessing a fac-simile in litliograph*, and 
 attached to it no ordinary value. 
 
 " It appeared, however, that the Noble 
 Lord had not renounced his project of 
 shewing his contemporary and companion 
 in letters a striking testimony of his 
 friendly intentions, of which the tragedy 
 
 * Goethe does not mention of what nature the 
 lithograph was.
 
 LOUD BYRON. 335 
 
 of ' Werner' contains an extremely pre- 
 cious evidence. 
 
 " It might naturally be expected that 
 the aged German poet, after receiving 
 from so celebrated a person such an un- 
 hoped-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 grati- 
 tude and esteem with which he was af- 
 fected. 
 
 " 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 ? 
 
 2 F 2
 
 436 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 *' But when, in the spiing of 1823, ii 
 young man of amiable and engaging man- 
 ners, a Mr. S , brought, direct from 
 
 Genoa to Weimar, a few words under tlie 
 hand of this estimable friend, by way of 
 recommendation, and when shortly after 
 there was spread a report that the Noble 
 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 fol- 
 lowing hasty stanzas : 
 
 r' 
 
 " 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 our feet. 
 
 How shall I, who so long his bright path traced, 
 Say to him words of love sent from afar ? —
 
 I-ORD BVIION. 437 
 
 To liim wlio with his inmost heart hatli struggled. 
 Long wont with fate and deepest woes to war ? 
 
 May he be happy ! — thus himself esteeming, 
 
 He well might count himself a favoured one ! 
 By his loved Muses all his sorrows banisli'd, 
 And lie self-known, — e'en as to me he 's known !" 
 
 " These lines 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 effusion of my heart reached 
 him. On the eve of his departure, July 
 23d, 1823, he found time to send me a 
 reply, full of the most beautiful ideas 
 and the divinest sentiments, which will be 
 treasured as an invaluable testimony of 
 worth and friendsliip among the choicest 
 documents which I possess.
 
 438 CONVERSATIONS OF 
 
 " What emotions of joy and hope did 
 not that paper once excite !— but now it 
 has become, by the premature death of its 
 noble writer, an inestimable relic, and a 
 source of unspeakable regret; for it ag- 
 gravates, 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 suc- 
 cess 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 convic- 
 tion, that his country will at once awake, 
 and shake off, like a troubled dream, the 
 l^artialities, the prejudices, the injuries,
 
 LORD BYRON. 439 
 
 and the calumnies with which he has heen 
 assailed, — that these will subside and sink 
 into oblivion,— that she will at length uni- 
 versally acknowledge that his frailties, whe- 
 ther the effect of temperament, or the de- 
 fect of the times in which he lived, (against 
 which even the best of mortals wrestle 
 painfully,) were only momentary, fleeting, 
 and transitory; whilst the imperishable 
 greatness to which he has raised her now 
 and for ever remains, and will remain, illi- 
 mitable in its glory, and incalculable in its 
 consequences. Certain it is, that a nation 
 who may well pride herself on so many 
 great sons, will 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 sotto- 
 scrizioni qui appiedi, il giorno 24 Marzo, 
 1822. 
 
 Lord Byron, con i suoi compagni qui sotto- 
 scritti, tornava cavalcando daUa sua solita passeg- 
 giata, ed era forse lungi un quarto di miglio 
 dalla Porta le Piaggie, quando un uomo a cavallo 
 in uniforme di L^ssero passo a tutta carriera in 
 mezzo alia compagnia, uitando villanamente uno 
 dei cavalieri. Lord Byron, adontato di tale villa- 
 nia, gli mosse dietro il suo cavallo, e tutti gli altri
 
 444 APPENDIX. 
 
 lo seguirono. Passati innanzi a costui, ognuno 
 s' arresto, e Milord lo richiese perche avesse fatto 
 quell' insulto. L' Ussero, per prima e tutta ris- 
 posta, comincio a gridare con urli, con bestemmie, 
 e con parole ingiuriose. AUora il nobile Lord, ed 
 un altro suo compagno gli presentarono un bigli- 
 etto, dov' era scritto il suo nome e la sua direzione. 
 Quegli seguito, gridando e minacciando che poteva 
 trar la sciabola ; che 1' avrebbe ben tirata, ed an- 
 che vi pose la mano. 
 
 Erano prossimi di dieci passi alia porta. In 
 mezzo air alterco si meschio un semplice soldato 
 in uniforme, credesi, da Cannoniere ; e grido 
 all' Ussero, " Comanda alia guardia della porta 
 — arrestateli, arrestateli" — e sempre con modi e 
 con parole le piii villane e le piu insultanti. 
 
 Cio udendo il nobile Lord, spinse il suo cavallo, 
 e un suo compagno di seguito, e in mezzro alle 
 guardie che mettevano mano ai fucili e baionette,
 
 RAPPORTO. 445 
 
 gli riiisri di varcarc la porta e prendere la Strada 
 del Corso verso Casa Lanfranchi. Gli altri tre 
 col corriere venivan diotro, allorche il Signor 
 Trelawney, che era il ])rimo, si trovo il cavallo 
 afferrato alia hriglia da due soldati con le spade 
 sguainate, e assalito forseniiatamente da quell' Us- 
 sero che gli scaglio luolti colpi di sciabola, mentre 
 quel soldati lo percuottevano sulla coscia. Egli e 
 i suoi compagni erano tutti ineruii, e chiedevano 
 a quel furibondo ragioue di una tale infarue con- 
 dotta. Ma egli rispondeva con i colpi. II Signor 
 Shelley s' interpose per farsi scudo all' amico, e 
 fu percosso gravemente sul capo col ponio della 
 sciabola, per cui cadde rovesciato da cavallo. II 
 Capitano Hay voile pure parare un colpo al coni- 
 pagno con un bastoncello che aveva ad uso di 
 foul't, ma il colpo taglio il bastone e giunse a 
 ferirlo sul naso. II corriere fu anche mal concio 
 con molte percosse dall' Ussero e dagl' altri sol- 
 dati— Dopo cio r Ussero sprono il cavallo c prese 
 la via di Lung' Amo.
 
 446 APPENDIX. 
 
 II nobile Lord giunto a casa, fece ordinare al 
 sno segretario che corresse subito a dar 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 deUa zufFa acca- 
 duta sotto la porta, gli rispose " Non sono soddis- 
 fatto — ^ditemi il vostro nome." Costui rispose 
 " Masi, Sergeiite Maggiore." Un servo di Milord 
 giunse in quell' istante dal Palazzo, e afferro la 
 briglia al cavallo del Sergente. Milord gli co- 
 mando di lasciarlo. II Sergente allora sprono il 
 cavallo e si lancio Lung' Arno, in mezzo ad 
 un' immensa folia che innanzi al Palazzo Lan- 
 franchi erasi adunata. Ivi, come ci si riporto, fu 
 ferito ; ma noi ignoriamo come e da chi, poiche 
 ognuno di noi trovavasi o in casa o indietro. So- 
 lamente fu recato in casa di Milord il bo)inet di 
 questo Sergente. 
 
 E da notare inoltre, che il Capitano Hay si
 
 RAPPORTO. 447 
 
 trova confinato in casa per la ferita ricevuta, e che 
 il corriere ha sputato sangue per i colpi avuti nel 
 petto, come si ])iio assicurare dalla relazione dei 
 Chirurghi. 
 
 Questo e il rapporto jireciso di cio che e passato 
 fra noi e il Sergente Maggiore Masi, coi soldati, 
 &c. In fede di che noi sottoscritti comproviamo, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 (Signed) Noel Byron. 
 
 H. Hay. 
 
 Percy Bysshe Shelley. 
 
 Edward Trelawney. 
 
 Count Pietro Gamba. 
 Pisa, 25 Marzo, 1822.
 
 448 APPENDIX. 
 
 SECONDO RAPPORTO. 
 
 lo osservai Lord Byron venir Domenica sera 
 cavalcando Lung' Arno verso la sua casa, e appena 
 giuntovi ritornare senza esser smontato : poscia 
 dirimpetto alia Chiesa di S. Matteo incontro un 
 Dragone, col quale cavalco lungo la strada. Lord 
 Byron aveva in mano una canna. II Dragone 
 minaccio di trarre la sciabola. Giunti sotto le 
 nostre finestre, Lord Byron stese la mano al Dra- 
 gone, e gli domando il nome e 1' indirizzo suo. 
 Vennero stringendosi le mani per pochi passi, 
 quando uno dei domestici di Lord Byron s'intro- 
 mise 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 cii'ca.
 
 SECONDO llAPFORTO. 449 
 
 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 Crawford, Inglese, 
 
 Casa Remediotti, No. 666, Lung' Arno. 
 
 Pisa, 27 Marzo, 1 822. 
 
 2 G
 
 450 APPENDIX. 
 
 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 imd Herrn von Goethe bestanden ; hier- 
 von ware kiirzlich soviel zu sagen. 
 
 Der deutsche Dichter, bis ins hohe Alter be- 
 miiht die Verdienste fi'iiherer und mitlebender 
 Manner sorgfiiltig und rein anzuerkennen, indem 
 er dies als das sicherste Mittel eigener Bildung 
 von jeher betrachtete, musste wohl avich auf das 
 grosse Talent des Lords, bald nach dessen erstem 
 Erscheinen aufmerksam werden, wie er denn auch 
 die Fortschritte jener bedeutenden Leistungen 
 und eines ununterbrochenen Wirkens unablassig 
 begleitete.
 
 Goethe's reitrag, &c. 451 
 
 Hierbey war denn leicht zii bemerken, dass 
 die allgemeine Anerkeiinung des dichterischen 
 Verdienstes mit Verinehrung iind Steigerung 
 rasch aiif einaiider folgender Productionen in 
 gleichem Maase fortwuchs. Auch ware die dies- 
 seitige frohe Theilnahme hieran, horhst vollkom- 
 men gewesen, hiitte iiicht der geniale Dichter eine 
 leidenschaftlicke Lebensweise, diirch inneres Mis- 
 behagen und ein so geistreiches als griinzenloses 
 Hervorbringen sich selbst und seinen Freunden 
 den reizenden Genuss an seinern hohen Daseyn 
 einigermassen verkiimmert. 
 
 Der deutsche Bewuoderer jedoch, hiedurch 
 nicht geirrt, folgte mit Aufmerksamkeit einem so 
 seltenen Leben und Dichten in aller seiner Excen- 
 tricitat, die freilich um desto auffallender seyn 
 muste, als ihres Gleichen in vergangenen Jahr- 
 hunderten nicht wohl zu entdecken gewesen und 
 uns die Eleniente zu Berechnung einer solchen 
 Bahn vollig abgingen. 
 
 2 c; 2
 
 452 APPENDIX. 
 
 Indessen waren die Bemiihungen des Deut- 
 schen dem Englander iiicht unbekannt geblieben, 
 der daron in seinen Gedichten unzweirdeutige 
 Beweise darlegte, nicht weiiiger sich durch Rei- 
 sende mit manchem freimdlichen Gruss verneh- 
 men lies. 
 
 Sodann aber folgte, iiberraschend, gleichfals 
 durch Vermittelung, das Original — Blatt einer 
 Dedication des Trauerspiels Sardanapalns in den 
 ehrenreichsten Ausdriicken und mit der freund- 
 lichen Anfrage, ob solche gedachtem Stiick vor- 
 gedruckt werden konnte. 
 
 Der Deutsche, mit sich selbst und seinen 
 I^eistungen im hohen Alter wohlbekannte Dich- 
 ter durfte den Inhalt jener Widmung niir als 
 Aeusserung eines trefflichen, hochfiihlenden, sich 
 selbst seine Gegenstande schafFenden, unerschop- 
 fiichen Geistes mit Dank und Bescheidenheid 
 betrachten ; auch fiihlte er sich nicht unzufrieden.
 
 Goethe's beitrag, &c. 453 
 
 als, bei mancherley Verspatung, Sardanapal ohiie 
 ein solches Vorwort gedruckt wurde und fand 
 sich schon gliicklich im Besitz eines lithographir- 
 ten Fac simile, zu hochst wertliem Andenken. 
 
 Doch gab der edle Lord seinen Vorsatz nicht 
 auf, dem deutschen Zeit-und Geist Genossen eine 
 bedeutende Freundlichkeit zu erweisen ; wie denn 
 das Trauerspiel Werner ein hochst schatzbares 
 Denkmal an der Stirne fiihrt, 
 
 Hiernach wird man denn wohl dem deutschen 
 Dichtergreise zuti'auen, dass er einen so griind- 
 lich guten AVillen, welcher uns auf dieser Erde 
 selten begegnet, von einem so hoch gefeyerten 
 Manne ganz imverhofft erfahrend, sich gleichfals 
 bereitete mit Klarheit und Kraft auszusprechen, 
 von welcher Hochachtung er fiir seinen uniiber- 
 troffenen Zeitgenossen durchdrungen, von wel- 
 chem theilnehmenden Gefiihl fiir ihn er belebt 
 sey. Aber die Aufgabe fand sich so gross. \\\u\
 
 454 APPENDIX. 
 
 erschien immer grosser, jemehr man ihr naher 
 trat ; denn was soil man von einem Erdgebornen 
 sagen, dessen Verdienste durch Betrachtung und 
 Wort nicht zo erschopfen sind ? 
 
 Als daher ein junger Mann, Herr Sterling, 
 aujrenehm von Person und rein von Sitten, im 
 Fmhjahr 1823, seinen Weg von Genua gerade 
 nach Weimar nahm, und auf einem kleinen 
 Blatte wenig eigenhandige Worte des verehrten 
 Mannes als Empfehlung iiberbrachte, als nun bald 
 darauf das Geriicht verlautete, der Lord werde 
 seinen grossen Sinn, seine manigfaltigen Krafte, 
 an erhabengefahrliche Thaten iiber Meer ver- 
 wenden, da war nicht liinger zu zaudern und 
 eilig nachstehendes Gedicht geschrieben : 
 
 Ein freundlich Wort kommt eines nach dem andem. 
 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.
 
 goethf/s beitrac;, Sec. 455 
 
 Wie soil ich dem, den ich so lang' begleitet 
 Nun etwas Traulich's in die Feme sagen ? 
 
 Ihm, der sich selbst ini Innersten bestreitet. 
 Stark angevvohnt, das tiefste Well zutragen. 
 
 Wohl sey ihm ! doch wenn er sich selbst empfindet, 
 Er Avage selbst sich hoch begliickt zu nennen, 
 
 ^Venn Musenkraft die Schmerzen iiberwindet, 
 Und wie ich ihn erkannt, mog' er sich kennen. 
 
 Weimar, den 22 Jiniy, 1823. 
 
 Es gelangte nach Genua, fand in aber nicht 
 mehr daselbst, schon war der trefliche Freund 
 abgesegelt und schien eineni jeden schon weit 
 entfernt ; durch Stiiniie jedocli zuriickgehalten, 
 landete er in Livorno, wo ihn das herzlich gesen- 
 dete gerade nocli traf, uvn es ini Augenblicke 
 seiner Abfalirt, den 24 July, 1823, mit eineni 
 reinen, schon-gefiihlten Blatt erwiedern zu kon- 
 nen; als werthestes Zeugnis eines wiirdigen Ver-
 
 45G APPENOIX. 
 
 haltnisses unter den kostbarsten Documenten vom 
 Besitzer auf zubewahren. 
 
 So sehr uns mm ein solches Blatt erfreuen und 
 riihren imd zu der schonsten LebenshofFnung 
 aufregen musste, so erlialt es gegenwartig dm'ch 
 das unzeitige Ableben des hohen Schreibenden 
 den grossten schmerzlichsten Werth, indem es 
 die algemeine Trauer der Sitten — und Dichter- 
 welt iiber seinen Verlust, fiir uns leider ganz 
 insbesondere, sch'arft, die wir nach voUbrachtem 
 grossen Bemiihen hoffen durften den vorziiglich- 
 sten 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 auf- 
 brausenden, tadelnden, scheltenden Taumel plotz- 
 lich zur Niichternheit erwachen und algemein 
 begreifen werde, dass alle Schaalen und Schlacken
 
 CrOETHE'S BEITRAG, &C. 457 
 
 der Zeit und des Individuums, durch welche sich 
 audi der beste hindurch und heraus zu arbeiten 
 hat, nur augenblicklich, vergiinglich und hinfallig 
 gewesen, wogegen der staunungswiirdige Ruhm, 
 zo dem er sein Vateiiand fiir ietzt und kiinftig 
 erhebt, in seiner Herrlichkeit granzenlos und in 
 seinen Folgen unbereclienbar bleibt. Gewiss, 
 diese Nation, die sich so vieler grosser Nanien 
 riihmen darf, wird ihn verklart zu denjenigen 
 stetten, durch die sie sich immerfoit selbst zu 
 ehren hat.
 
 458 APPENDIX. 
 
 [In the absence of the Author, who is in Swit- 
 zerland, the London Editor has ventured to add 
 a few Documents, which he tmsts will be consi- 
 dered as a desirable Supplement. The following 
 Letter in particvdar, relative to Lord Byi'on's 
 great contemporary Sir Walter Scott, will no 
 doubt be read with universal admiration :] 
 
 To M. H. Beyle, 
 
 Rue de Richelieu, Paris. 
 
 Genoa, Mai/ 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 j)leased 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
 
 LETTER, &C. 450 
 
 indel)ted for it to one of wliose 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 banish- 
 ed, 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 fi'eedom. 
 
 Of your works I have only seen " Rome," &c., 
 the Lives of Haydn and Mozart, and the brochure 
 on Racine and Shakspeare. The " Histoire de 
 la Peinture" I have not yet the good fortune to 
 possess. 
 
 There is one part of your observations in the 
 pamphlet which I shall venture to remark upon ; 
 — it regards AValter 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 aU men he is the most open, the most 
 honourable, the most amiable. With his politics 
 I have nothing to do : they differ from mine,
 
 460 APPENDIX. 
 
 which renders it difficult for me to speak of them. 
 But he is perfectly sincere in them ; and Sin- 
 cerity may be humble, but she cannot be servile. 
 I pray you, therefore, to correct or soften that 
 passage. You may, perhaps, attribute this offi- 
 ciousness of mine to a false affectation of candour, 
 as I happen to be a writer also. Attribute 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 knoio it by ex- 
 perience 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 circumstances may 
 conduct me once more to Greece. My present 
 address is Genoa, where an answer will reach 
 me in a short time, or be forwarded to me 
 wherever I may be. 
 
 I beg you to believe me, with a lively re- 
 collection of our brief acquaintance, and the hope 
 of one day renewing it, 
 
 Your ever obliged 
 
 And obedient humble servant, 
 
 (Signed) NOEL BYRON.
 
 ( 46J ) 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT 
 
 OP 
 
 LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 
 
 [The Editor is indebted for the foUowing in- 
 teresting Account of Lord Byron's Residence in 
 Greece, &c. to " The Westminster Review," a 
 pubHcation which has ah-eady justly acquired a 
 high name in the periodical literature 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 oppressors, 
 are of so obvious a nature, that it is scarcely worth while 
 to allude to them. It was in Greece that liis higli poeti- 
 cal faculties had been first most powerfully developed ; 
 and they who know the delight attendant, even in a 
 very inferior degree, upon this intellectual process, will 
 know liow to appreciate the tender associations which.
 
 462 APPENDIX. 
 
 " soft as the memory of buried love," cling to the scenes 
 and the persons that have first stimulated the dormant 
 o-enius. Greece, a land of the most venerable and illus- 
 trious history, of a peculiarly grand and beautiful sce- 
 nery, inhabited by various races of the most wild and 
 picturesque manners, was to him the land of excitement, 
 — never-cloying, never-wearying, ever-changing excite- 
 ment : — such must necessarily have been the chosen and 
 favourite spot of a man of powerful and original intel- 
 lect, of quick and sensible feelings, of a restless and 
 untameable spirit, of warm affections, of various informa- 
 tion, — and, above all, of one satiated and disgusted with 
 the formality, hypocrisy, and sameness of daily life. 
 Duelling upon that country, as it is clear from all Lord 
 Byron's writings he did, with the fondest solicitude, 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 he Avas no unconcerned spectator of its 
 recent revolution : and as soon as it appeared to him that 
 his presence might be useful, he prepared to \dsit 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 re- 
 gards great poets, are supposed to be generally led. It 
 was not until after very serious deliberation of the ad- 
 vantages to be derived from this step, and after acquir- 
 ing all possible information on the subject, that he de-
 
 LOUD BYRON IN GUEECE. 463 
 
 termined on it ; and in this as in every other act icgard- 
 ing this expedition, as we shall find, proved himself a ^ 
 wise and practical philanthropist. Like all men edu- 
 cated 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 neces- 
 sity 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 dis- 
 tinction was open to him, and doubtless he expected 
 to derive no mean gratification from witnessing so sin- 
 gular and instructive a spectacle as the emancipation t/" 
 of Greece. — A glorious cai'eer apparently ])rcsented 
 itself, and he determined to try the event. When he 
 had niade 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 , you mu.st 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 be of great use in Greece ; 
 I do not know how, nor do they, but at all events let us 
 try !" 
 
 He had, says this friend, who knew him well, become '^ 
 ambitious of a name as distinguished for deeds, as It
 
 464 APPENDIX. 
 
 was already by his writings. It was but a short time 
 before his decease, that he composed one of the most 
 beautiful and touching of his songs on his 36th birth- 
 day, which remarkably proves the birth of this new pas- 
 sion. One stanza runs as follows : 
 
 If thou regret thy youth, why live ? 
 
 The land of honourable death 
 Is here — Up to the field, and give 
 
 Away thy breath — 
 Awake }wt Greece — She is awake. 
 Awake 7ny spirit ! — 
 
 Lord Byron embarked from Leghorn and arrived in 
 Cephalonia in the early part of August, 1 823, attended 
 by a suite of six or seven friends in an English vessel 
 (the Hercules, Captain Scott), which he had hired for 
 the express purpose of taking him to Greece. His 
 Lordship had never seen any of the volcanic moun- 
 tains, and for this purpose the vessel deviated from 
 its regular course in order to pass the island of Strom- 
 boli. 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 vol- 
 cano emitted no fire — the disappointed 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 pre- 
 sent themselves in a sea voyage. " For many a joy
 
 LORD BYRON IN GREECE. 465 
 
 could he from nighfs soft presence glean.'' He was 
 
 far above any affectation of poetical ecstasy, but his 
 
 wliole works demonstrate the sincere delight he took in 
 
 feedinor his imagination Avith the elories of the mate- 
 rs & c5 
 
 rial 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 in- 
 debted for it all. 
 
 As the stately vessel glided slow 
 
 Beneath the shadow of that ancient mount. 
 
 He watched the billows' melancholy flow. 
 
 And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont. 
 
 More placid seem'd his eye, and smooth his pallid front. 
 
 It was a point of the greatest importance to deter- 
 mine on the particular part of Greece to which his 
 Lordship should direct his course — the country was 
 afflicted by intestine divisions, and Lord Byron thought 
 that if he wished to serve it, he must keep aloof from 
 faction. The different parties had their different seats 
 of influence, and to choose a residence, if not in fact, 
 was in appearance to choose a party. In a countrt' 
 where communication is impeded by natural obstacles 
 and unassisted by civilized regulations, which had 
 scarcely succeeded in expelling 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, therefore, became necessary to 
 
 2 H
 
 466 APPENDIX. 
 
 make some stay in a place Avhich might serve as a con- 
 venient 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 Englisli civil and mili- 
 tary authorities, who, generally speaking, seemed Avell 
 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 Byvon"'s arrival in the Ionian 
 Islands, Greece, though even then an intelligent ob- 
 server could scarcely entertain a doubt of her ultimate 
 success, was in a most unsettled state. The third 
 campaign had commenced, and had already been marked 
 by several instances of distinguished success. Odys- 
 seus and Niketas had already effectually harassed and 
 dispersed the two armies of Yusuff Pasha, and Mus- 
 tapha Pasha, who had entered Eastern Greece, by 
 the passes of Thermopyla?. 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 tlioroughl}^ emanci- 
 pated. Patras, Modon, and Coron, and the Castle of 
 the Morea, did then and still hold out against the com- 
 bined assaults of famine and the troops of the besiegers. 
 But the ancient Peloponnesus had, at this moment, 
 more to fear from the dissensions of its chiefs, than the
 
 LORD BYRON IN GREECE. 4G7 
 
 efforts of the enemy — they had absohitely assumed 
 something hke the cliaracter of a civil war. The gene- 
 rals had been ordered on different services, when it 
 appeared that the funds destined for the maintenance 
 of their armies were already consumed in satisfying old 
 demands for arrears. INIucli confusion arose, and a 
 bloody conflict actually took place in the streets of Tri- 
 politza, between a troop of Spartiates and anotlacr of 
 Ai-cadians, the followers of rival leaders. The military 
 chiefs, at the head of whom was the able but avaricious 
 Colocotronis, at that time Vice-president of the Execu- 
 tive Government, were jealous of the party which may 
 be termed the civil faction. Over this party presided 
 Mavrocordatos, who, as a Constantinopolitan, was con- 
 .sidered as a foreigner, and who, on account of his be- 
 ing 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 jVf- 
 fairs, and was accused of holding correspondence Avith 
 foreign Courts without the knowledge of the Govern- 
 ment, and of aiming at getting himself elected the Presi- 
 dent of the Legislative Body. It turned out that the 
 actual President fled from the seat of government, and 
 that 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 Hydia, ^hcre 
 the civil and commercial party was strong, and where 
 
 2 H 2
 
 468 APPENDIX. 
 
 he was held in considerable estimation, when Lord 
 Byron arrived at Cephalonia. 
 
 At this moment, too. Western Greece was in a very 
 critical situation— Mustapha, Pasha of Scutari, was ad- 
 vancing 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 
 liest days of Greece, succeeded on the 9th of August 
 (O.S.) by his famous night-attack, in cutting off a con- 
 siderable 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 Anatoli- 
 con and Messolonghi ; the latter place was invested by 
 Mustapha, and the Albanian chief, Omer-Vriones, by 
 the early part of October. The Turkish fleet had ar- 
 rived in the waters of Patras about the middle of June, 
 and continued to blockade (at least nominally) Mes- 
 solonghi, and all the other ports of Western Greece, 
 up to the arrival of Lord Byron. 
 
 Previous to Marco Botzari's arrival at Carpenissi, the 
 little 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 pro- 
 ceeding to the attack, was to write a warm invitation for 
 his Lordship 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 memo-
 
 LOlU) 15YRON IN GREECE. 469 
 
 rable battle and the character of this heroic man, this 
 letter cannot 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 |o of August. 
 
 " I am delighted," he says to a friend in Cephalonia, 
 " with your account of Lord Byron's disposition with re- 
 spect to our country. The advice you have given his 
 Lordship to direct his attention to Western Greece, has 
 caused us the greatest satisfaction ; 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-countrymen the Suliotes, on whom he has 
 conferred the honour of selecting them for his guards. 
 Avail yourself of this kindness of his Lordship, and per- 
 suade him to come as speedily as possible to INIessolonghi, 
 where we will not fail to receive him with every mark of 
 honour due to his person ; and as soon as I hear of his <u— 
 rival, I will leave the army here and proceed to join him 
 with a few companions. All will soon be right ; the disturb- 
 ances in Roumelia are only temporary and will be easily set- 
 tled. 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 ; Ave have possession of all the strong 
 posts, and trust that the enemy Avill 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 tlie defence of 
 Messolonghi. After the battle he transmitted bandages 
 and medicines, of which he had brought a large store
 
 470 APPENDIX. 
 
 from Italy, and pecuniary succour to those wlio had been 
 wounded m 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 IMessolonghi, and the Suliotcs 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 
 will not advance a para. The opposition say they want to 
 cajole me, and the party in power say the others wish to se- 
 duce me ; so between the two I have a difficult part to 
 play: however, I \^'ill have nothing to do with the factions, 
 unless to reconcile tliem, if possible " 
 
 Tliougli strongly solicited in the most flattering man- 
 ner by Count Metaxa, the Exarch of Messolonghi, and 
 others to repair to that place. Lord Byron had too rea- 
 sonable 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 esta- 
 bhshed 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 col- 
 lect intelligence respecting the real state of things. The 
 extreme want of money which was at that time felt in
 
 LORD IJYRON IN GREECE. 471 
 
 Greece, and the knowledge that Lord Byron had broiioht 
 large funds with the intention of devoting them to the 
 cause, made all parties 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 uj) his residence on 
 shore. Avoiding the capital of Cephalonia he retired 
 to the small village of Metaxata, 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 writ- 
 ings, and with the peculiar wants, and the peculiar cha- 
 racter of the Greeks, to conceive a just idea of the sensa- 
 tion which his arrival created in Greece. It is impossi- 
 ble to read the letters wiiich were addressed to him at 
 this time from every quarter, and not be struck with 
 the glorious sphere of action which presented itself, and 
 at the same time not proportionately lament the stroke 
 which deprived the country of his assistance before he 
 had comparatively eft'ected any thing of importance. 
 
 Established at Metaxata as a convenient place 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
 
 472 APPENDIX. 
 
 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 gene- 
 rous exertion. He provided even in Greece for many 
 Italian families in distress, and indulged the people of 
 the country even in paying for the religious ceremonies 
 which they deemed essential to their success. Our 
 informant mentions one circumstance in particular 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 
 earth had buried some persons alive. He heard of the 
 accident while at dinner, and starting up from the ta- 
 ble, 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 instilling the importance of religious me- 
 ditation and certain scriptural truths into the mind of 
 Lord Byron, who had the reputation of not holding them
 
 I-OKl) liYKON IN (iRKECK. 473 
 
 in sufficient reverence. These conferences we are Inform- 
 ed by an auditor 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 on- 
 set. Lord Byron shewed a most remarkable acquaint- 
 ance with the Bible, and by his quotations, aptly applied 
 to the question in dispute, very often brought his anta- 
 gonist to a stand ; when, turning down the page, for he 
 generally brought a little library of theology to the con- 
 test, 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 advantage ; he, however, flattered 
 himself that he had made the desired impression ; for 
 we are informed that he afterwards made particular in- 
 quiries of his Lordship's suite, into any change that 
 might have taken place in his antagonist''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 discussions, in order to master 
 the cant of this religious sect, as it was his intention in 
 some future Canto to make Don Juan a Methodist. 
 This is a very gratuitous supposition. Lord Byron
 
 474 • APPENDIX. 
 
 had, when not h-ritated, the most courteous and affable 
 manners ; he carried himself towards all who had access 
 to him with the most scrupulous delicacy, and it was 
 quite sufficient for Dr. Kennedy to desire these inter- 
 views, to procure them. 
 
 Although some ludicrous scenes occurred, the admo- 
 nitory 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, 
 Tripohtza, 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, con- 
 sequently, they were able to collect a considerable quan- 
 tity of information, and procure answers to the ques- 
 tions 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 ex- 
 tracts which we shall have to make from his correspon- 
 dence, prove the aptitude of his intellect and the benevo- 
 lence 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, re- 
 sources, and intentions of the country. From the let-
 
 LOKD BYRON IN GREECF,. 475 
 
 ters also he vvould bo 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 withheld 
 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 democratic government if 
 retrularh' 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 tlie other 
 British Philhellenes to communicate with the general 
 Government, and to send their succours to them alone. 
 His sentiments were shared by the other chiefs, and the 
 name of Mavrocordatos was never mentioned with re- 
 spect in the Peloponnesus, where it seemed he had lost 
 all influence. His influence reigned in another quarter, 
 and for that reason his suite were very solicitous that 
 Lord Byron's friends should proceed to Hydi-a, instead 
 of Salamis, and expressed a hope that Lord Byron 
 himself would act in the difference between the Prince 
 and Colocotronis, not as a simple mediator, but in a
 
 476 APPENDIX. 
 
 decisive manner, " avec nne main de fer,'''' 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 ilfty, and the executive of five. 
 Every thing is described as wearing the appearance of 
 reality — the chiefs and people acknowledging 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, (Odysseus) 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. Tre- 
 lawney agreed to accompany him as his aide-de-camp, 
 being promised any number of men he chose under his 
 command, and imder the expectation of passing the win- 
 ter 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 expect- 
 ed. Staicos was to remain at Corinth, which surren- 
 dered 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
 
 LORD BYRON IN GREECE. 477 
 
 (October 1823), was in a very critical state, being block- 
 aded both by land and sea. 
 
 " There have been," says Mr. Trelawney, " thirty battles 
 fought and won by the late jMarco Botzari and his gallant 
 tribe of SuHotes, 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 por- 
 tion of this sum is raised" — and IMr. Trelawney adds, in a 
 spirit worthy of him and his deceased friend, " I would coin 
 my heart to save tli'i.s keij of Greece !" 
 
 A report like this was sufficient to show the point 
 %vhere 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 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 attempts to set Lord 
 Byron right with respect to the dissensions in the Morea, 
 and points out with great justice that though the Go- 
 vernment 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 w ant of 
 money ; and predicts their immediate disappearance when 
 means are found to pay the fleets and armies. He goes 
 on to speak of Loi'd Byron's intentions: —
 
 478 APPENDIX. 
 
 " I should do myself an injustice, my Lord, if I were not 
 to speak to you ^^'ith 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 kno'\\ s, 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 part in danger, — that iMesso- 
 longhi 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 ditiiculty in pene- 
 trating into the Morea and seizing upon its most fertile pro- 
 vinces, from whence it will be hard, nay, impossible to dis- 
 lodge 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 M'hen to leave oft inviting you to come to the 
 succour of INIessolonghi." 
 
 At this time Mavrocoi'datos was endeavouring to col- 
 lect a fleet for the relief of Messolong-hi. Lord Bvron'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. 1823. 
 
 " Corinth is taken, and a Turkish squadron is said to be 
 beaten in the Archipelago — the public progress of the Greeks 
 is consielerable, but their internal dissensions still continue. 
 On arrivin<<; at the seat of Government I shall endeavour to 
 mitigate or extinguish them — though neither is an easy task. 
 I have remained here partly in expectation of thie squadron in
 
 i-oiuj liYitox IX (;reece. 479 
 
 relief of JMessoloiighi, partly of ]\Ir. Parry's detachment, and 
 partly to receive from INIalta or Zante the sum of four hun- 
 dred thoTisand piastres, which, at the desire of the Greek 
 Government, I have advanced for the payment of the expect- 
 ed squadron. The Bills are negociating, and will be cashed 
 in a short time, as they could have been immediately in any 
 other mart, but the miserable Ionian merchants have little 
 money and no great credit, and are besides poUlicallij sin/ 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 
 
 except through English merchants; these, hoAvever, 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 400,000 piastres for the fleet. i\Iy 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 re- 
 m.onstrance on their divisions to Mavrocordatos, which I 
 understand was forwarded to the legislative body by the 
 Prince." 
 
 He did not, however, depart for the Government at the 
 time he had expected, and conceived it necessary to ad- 
 dress the Government again on the subject of their dis- 
 sensions. The following extract is a translation of the 
 concluding part of this very admirable letter : 
 
 " The affair of the loan, — the expectation, so long and 
 vainly indulged, of the arrival of the Greek fleet, and the
 
 480 APPENDIX. 
 
 dangers to which Messolonghi is still exposed, have detained 
 me here, and will still detain me till some of them are re- 
 moved. 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 ha^'e 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 ^hom no one was an enemy to Greece, but 
 seemed inclined to favour her in consenting to the establish- 
 ment of an independent power, will be persuaded that the 
 Greeks are unable to govern themselves, and will perhaps 
 themselves undertake to arrange your disorders in such a way 
 as to blast the brightest hopes you indulge, and Avhich 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 afl'airs. The rest, gentlemen, 
 depends on you — you have fought gloriously — act honour- 
 ably towards your fellow-citizens and towards the world; 
 and then it will be no more said, as has been repeated for 
 2,000 years with the Roman historian, that Philopoemen was 
 the last of the Grecians. Let not calumny itself (and it is
 
 LORD EYRON IN GREECE. 481 
 
 difficult to guard against it in so difficult a struggle) com- 
 pare the Turkish Paslia with the patriot Greek in peace, 
 after you have exterminated him in war. 
 
 " 30th Nov. 1823." " N. B." 
 
 •I 
 In another letter, written a few days after this, we 
 
 find a circumstance mentioned which probably turned 
 his views from the Morea to Western Greece. It must 
 be remembered that the Suhotes were his old favour- 
 ites, 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 
 things to rights- in the INIorea, which without a force seems 
 impracticable ; and really though very reluctant, as my letters 
 will have shown you, to take such a measure, there seems 
 hardlv any milder remedy. However, 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 have been too sensitive on 
 this point, and, as we think, attached too great an im- 
 portance 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 ditference of opinion exist- 
 
 2 I
 
 482 APPENDIX. . 
 
 ing 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 their barbarous oppressors actuate 
 them. What they want, to ensure success "and consolidate 
 the Government, is money — money — money." 
 
 Lord Byron in his correspondence, however, conti- 
 nues to allude to these unfortunate differences, and is 
 pleasant upon the gasconading which distinguishes the 
 Greek of this day as it did the Greek of the age oi 
 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 hoped, 
 will 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 ships, 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 something in the way of 
 the Spartans, but they have not inherited their style. — Dec. 
 10, 1823." 
 
 Soon after the date of this letter the long 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 Mavrocordatos, 
 who is on board, and has (I understand) despatches from the
 
 LOUD BYKON IN GREECE. 483 
 
 legislative to me ; in consequence of which, after paying the 
 squadron, I shall probably join him at sea or on shore." 
 
 In the same liglit and agreeable manner in which he 
 touches upon every subject, 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 nmsical jjreparations 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 Ave have an 
 engineer, and a trumpeter (we have chirurgeons already), 
 mere ' pearls to swine,' as the Greeks are ignorant of mathe- 
 matics, and have a bad ear for our nmsic ; the maps, &c. I 
 will put into use for them, and take care that all (with proper 
 caution) are turned to the intended uses of the Committee." 
 
 He speaks again of the supplies, however, with more 
 pleasantry than foresight ; for the very articles which he 
 seems to have thought thrown away, proved of remark- 
 able service, more jmrticularly the trumpets. The 
 Turks are so apprehensive of the skill and well directed 
 valour of the Fninks, that even the supposed presence 
 of a body of such troops, is sufficient to inspu'e a panic 
 The Greeks, aware of this, have frecjuently put their 
 enemy in disorder by sounding these same despised 
 bugles. The Greeks know this weak side of the Turks 
 
 2 1 2
 
 484 APPENDIX. 
 
 SO well, that they sometimes consider a collection of old 
 European hats a piece of ammunition more effectual 
 tlian nmch 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 sovmd of a trum- 
 pet. 
 
 " The supplies of the Committee are very useful^, and aU 
 excellent in their kind, but occasionally hardly practical 
 enough in the present state of Greece ; for instance, the ma- 
 thematical instruments are thrown away ; none of the Greeks 
 know a problem from a poker — we must conquer first, and 
 plan afterwards. The use of the trunijiets, too, may be 
 doubted, unless Constantinople were Jericho ; for the Hellen- 
 ists have no ears for bugles, and you must send somebody to 
 listen to them." He goes on, " We 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 ex- 
 pressed in his correspondence. He concludes a letter to 
 his banker, in Cephalonia, on business, with this sen- 
 tence, " 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 secoud.'''* 
 
 Lord Byron had the more merit in the zeal and 
 energy with which he espousc<l the interests of the Hel- 
 lenic cause, for he had not suftercd himself to be dis-
 
 LOKD EYRON IN GREECE. 48/> 
 
 gusted by tlie 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 perfection 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 
 o-reat service both to the cause and to the Committee, 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 in the country before) with some 
 hio-h-flown notions of the 6th form at Harrow and Eton, &c. ; 
 
 but Col. and I set him to rights on those points, 
 
 which was absolutely necessary to prevent disgust, or per- 
 haps return — but now we can set our shoulders soherJy to 
 the rvheel, without quarrelling with the mud which 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 must be permitted to view it in its 
 truth — with its defects as well as beauties, more especially 
 as success will remove the former— ^ra(/«rt//y. — (Dec. 20, 
 1823.)"
 
 486 APPENDIX. 
 
 Lord Byron had by this time yielded to the solicitor 
 tions of Mavrocordatos, who repeatedly urged him in 
 the most pressing manner to cross over to Messolonghi, 
 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 procuring money 
 for his Italian bills. His anxiety to procure supplies is 
 a constant subject of his correspondence. 
 
 "1 have written/' he says, in a letter dated 13th Oct. 182.3, 
 " 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 paymaster, as far as I am 
 ' good upon 'Change,' that is to say. — I pray you to repeat as 
 much to hhn ; and say that I must in the interim draw on 
 
 Messrs. R most formidably — -to say the truth, I do not 
 
 grudge it, now the fellows have begun to fight again : and 
 still more Avelcome 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 expected the next will be at least as much more^ 
 and how can I refuse if they w'ill 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 Roch- 
 dale manor, and mine income for the year A. d. 1824, to 
 answer and anticipate any orders, or drafts of mine, for
 
 LOUD BYTION IN GREECE. 487 
 
 the good cause, in good and lawful money of Great Britain, 
 &c. &c. Sec. May you live a thousand years ! which is 999 
 longer than the Spanish Cortes' Constitution." 
 
 When the supplies were procured, and his other pre- 
 parations made for departure, two Ionian vessels were 
 hired, and embarking his horses and effects, his Lord- 
 ship 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 Avith Mr. , and after receiving a 
 
 quantity of specie on board, he proceeded towards Mes- 
 solonghi. Two accidents occurred on this short passage, 
 which might have been attended with very serious con- 
 sequences. Count Ganiba, an intimate friend who had 
 accompanied his Lordship from Leghorn, had been 
 chai'ged with the vessel in which the horses and part of 
 the money were embarked: when off Chiarenza, a point 
 which lies between Zante and the place of their des- 
 tination, they were surprised at day-light on finding them- 
 selves under the bows of a Turkish frigate. Owing, 
 however, to the activity displayed on board Lord 
 B3'ron's vessel, and her superior sailing, she escaped, 
 while the second was fired at, brought to, and carried 
 into Patras. Gamba and his companions, being taken 
 before Yusuff Pasha, fully expected to share the fate 
 of the imfortunate men whom that sanguinary chief 
 sacrificed last year at Prevesa, though 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
 
 488 APPENDIX. 
 
 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 cap- 
 tain of the frigate of a scandalous breach of neutral- 
 ity, in firing at and detaining a vessel under English 
 colours, and concluded by informing YusufF, that he 
 might 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 re- 
 lease, but treated the whole party with the utmost 
 attenion, and even urged them to take a day's shooting 
 in the neighbourhood. Count Gamba gladly availed 
 himself of these unexpected hospitalities, and sailing 
 the next day, passed over to Messolonghi, where, to 
 his great surprise. Lord Byron had not yet arrived. 
 
 * The treatment of Gamba and the crew, wliile on boai-d the 
 Turkish ship of war, was scarcely less courteous than that which 
 they experienced on landinn;-. This arose from a very sing^ar 
 coincidence. On their first mounting the frigate's deck, the 
 captain gave orders to put them all in irons, and miglit have pro- 
 ceeded to further extremities, when the master of the A'essel 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 Tui-k, looking stedfastly at him for a few moments, ex- 
 claimed — "What! can it be Spiro ? " and springing forward, em- 
 braced his former deliverer with the greatest ti-ansport. 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 IN GREECE. 489 
 
 OwinjT 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 poAver 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. Prince 
 Mavrocordatos despatched a gun-boat to accompany his 
 Lordship's vessel ; while a })ortion of the Greek squa- 
 dron, stationed at ]Messolonghi, were also ordered to 
 cruize in ihe 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 probably have remained there, had it not been 
 for the activity of his Lordship's attendants, who jump- 
 ed 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 cus- 
 tomary with Greek sailors on such occasions.* As the 
 
 *" His Lordship is described by his physician as conducting 
 himself with admirable coohiess. \Vc will give the anecdjnte iu his
 
 490 APPENDIX. 
 
 wind continued to blow directly against their getting to 
 Messolongbi, 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 fol- 
 lowing morning, despatched from Messolongbi to ac- 
 company his Lordship, and assist him if required ; the 
 vessel accordingly sailed, but was forced to anchor in the 
 evenino-, 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 which he 
 sailed from Argostoli. 
 
 . ' " We are just arrived here (the letter is dated 31st Dec.- 
 1823), that is, part of my people and I, with some things. 
 
 own words : " Ma nel tli lui passaggio marittimo una fregata Turca 
 insegui la di lui nave, obligandola di ricoverarsi dentro le Scrofes, 
 dove per I'impeto del venti fu gettata sopra i scogli : tutti i mari- 
 nari e' I'equipaggio saltarono a terra per salrare la loro vita: 
 Milord solo col di lui Medico Dottr. Bruno rimasero suUa nave 
 che ognuno vedeva colare a fondo : ma dopo qualche tempo non 
 essendosi visto che cio avveniva, le persone fuggite a terra respin- 
 sero la nave nell' acque : ma il tempestoso mare la ribasto una 
 secondo volta contro i scogli, ed aUora si aveva per certo che la 
 nave coU' illustre personaggio, una gran quantita di denari, e 
 molti preziosi eiFetti per i Greci anderebhero a fondo : Tuttavia 
 Lord Byron non si perturbo per nulla, anzi disse al di lui medico, 
 che voleva gettarsi al nuoto onde raggiongere la spiaggia : ' non 
 abbandonate la nave finche abbiamo forze per direggerla ; allorche 
 saremo coperti dall' acque, aUora gettatevi pure, che io vi salvo.' "
 
 I.OKD BYRON IN GREECE. 491 
 
 &c., and which it may be as well not to si)ecify in a letter 
 (which has a risk of being intercepted) : but Gamba, and 
 my horses, negro, steward, and the press and all the com- 
 mittee things — also some eight thousand dollars of mine 
 (but never mind, Ave 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 fighting people on board), is another question — especially 
 if we remain long here — since we are blockaded out of Bles- 
 solonghi 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 
 g-et in without the least intimation to take heed that the 
 Moslems were out again. Make my respects to IVIavro- 
 cordatos and say, that I am here at his disposal. I am un- 
 easy at being here, not so much on my oA\n account, as on 
 that of the Greek boy with me — for you know A\hat his 
 fate would be — and I would sooner cut him in ])ieces and 
 myself, than have him taken out by those barbarians." 
 
 * He wished to convey that ho h;ul these SOOO dollars with htm 
 in his present awkward situation.
 
 492 APPENDIX, 
 
 Lord Byron was received at Messolonghi with the 
 most entliusiastic demonstrations 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, Avith all the troops and the population col- 
 lected together, met him on his landing, and accompanied 
 him to the house which had been prepared for him, 
 amidst the shouts of the multitude 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 ne- 
 cessary and unavoidable, had now in a great measure 
 effected its object. The 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 sig- 
 nalized 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.* 
 
 * Insegueiulo un giorno un corsaro Greco, una nave carica cli 
 Turchi, uno di essi nell' affrettarsi ad accomodare una vela per
 
 I,ORD BYRON IN GREECE. 493 
 
 His Lordship had not been long at Messolonghi, 
 before an opportunity presented itself for showing his 
 sense of Yusuff Pasha's moderation in releasing Count 
 Ganiba. Hearing that there were four Turkish prison- 
 ers in the town, he requestetl that Prince IVfavrocordatos 
 would place them in his hands ; this being immediately 
 granted, they were sent to the castle of the Morea, 
 
 fug^re pill presto, catlde in mare, e gli riusci di portarsi a terra 
 nuotando, ma due soldati Greci lo inseguivano per ammazzarlo ; 
 la fortuna voile die il Turco fuggisse appunto nella casa d'abita- 
 zione di Milord, il quale lo accolse subito, e lo nascose : giunti 
 i due soldati Greci, chiedono furibondi coU' anni alia mano e 
 colle minaccie la restituzione della loro preda che volevano sacri- 
 ficare ; Milard gli offre qiial somma volessero per riscattare il 
 Turco ; ma i due soldati iusistono, colle armi in atto di ferire, 
 a voler il prigioniei'o per ammazzarlo ; allora Milord rispose, 
 giacche e cosi, me piuttosto ammazzerete che quel povero in- 
 felice perisca ! Barl>ari che siete, e questo I'esempio che date 
 di essere Christian! come voi dite ? Ola fuggite dalla mia presen- 
 za, se non volete che vi faccia pagar caro il fio della vostra bar- 
 baric. — Lo tenne seco nascosto per alquanti 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 famiglia. Aveva Milord pure raccolto in Messolonglii 
 una donna Turca coUa di lei figlia, che dall' apice de la fortuna 
 si trovavano nella piii grande miseria. Fece dei ricchissimi doni 
 alia figlia ancor bambina, ed aveva divisato di mandarhi educare 
 in Italia, il che si effettuava anclie dopo la di lui morte ; ma la 
 madre e figlia Turche giunte a Zante voUevano per forza andare a 
 Prevesa, dicendo, che siceome avevano perduto in Milord il loro 
 padre, volevano rifirarsi nel lor nativo paese, e piangerne colii per 
 sompre la perdifa. — Dit. Bnivo.
 
 494 APPENDIX. 
 
 near Patras, with the followmg letter addressed to the 
 Turkish chief; 
 
 " Hiffhness ! — A vessel in which a friend and some do- 
 mestics of mine were embarked, 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, and being under British protection, no one liad a right 
 to detain, but for having treated my friends with so much 
 kindness while they were in your hands. 
 
 " In the hope, therefore, that it may not be altogether 
 displeasing to your Highness, 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 pri- 
 soners 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 es- 
 pecially since the horrors of war are sutliciently great in 
 themselves, without being aggravated by wanton cruelties on 
 either side. 
 
 " Messolonghi, 23 January, 1824." 
 
 "NOEL BYRON." 
 
 The above act was followed by another not less en- 
 titled to praise, while it proves how anxious his Lord- 
 ship 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 passen- 
 gers, chiefly women and children, they were also placed 
 in the hands of Lord Byron, at his particular request :
 
 LORD BYUON IN GREECE. 495 
 
 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 English Consul 
 Mr. Meyer, wlio thanked his Lordship in the name of 
 Beker Aga the Tvu-kish Governor of that place, and con- 
 cluded 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 
 \s'hich 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 submissive to the orders of the Govern- 
 ment. He had neither time nor much opportunity before 
 his decease to carry this point to any great extent ; 
 much good w^as however done ; and if Ave 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 well 
 treated : if he is not, the sin and the shame may lie at liis 
 own door. One great object is, to heal these internal dis- 
 sensions for the future, without exacting a too rigorous 
 account of the past. The Prince JMavrocordatos 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 good. However, I never judge by rejwrt, par- 
 ticularly in a revolution : personally I am rather obliged to
 
 496 APPENDIX. 
 
 him, for he has been very hospitable to all friends of mine 
 who have passed through his district. You may therefore 
 answer him, that any overtures for the advantage of Greece 
 and its internal pacification will be readily and sincerely 
 met here. I hardly think he would have ventured a deceitful 
 proposition to me through you, because he must be sure that 
 in such case it would be eventually exposed. At any rate, 
 the healing of these dissensions is so important a point, that 
 something must be risked to obtain it." 
 
 Sisseni is the Cupituiio of the rich and fertile plain of 
 Gastouni, who at first paid but a very uncertain obedi- 
 ence 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, are 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 importance of his Lordship's presence at 
 Messolonghi, and had no doubt fired his imagmation 
 by the anticipations of success, and the scenes of brilliant 
 achievement which he laid before him. " Soyez per- 
 suade, Milord," he says, among much of the same kind, 
 " qu'il ne dependra que de vous, d'assurer le sort de la 
 Grece. 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 Tliessalie !'''' Accordingly, Lord Bvron landed at
 
 LORD BYRON IN GREECE. 497 
 
 Messolonghi, animated with military ardour, and became, 
 as one of the letters from tlie place, dated soon after 
 his landing, expresses it, soldier-mad. After paying the 
 fleet, which indeed had only come out under the ex- 
 pectation of receiving its arrears from the loan which he 
 promised to make to the Provisional Government, 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. 1824, 
 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 of the 
 gulf is one of 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 reign in the place. It w^as un- 
 derstood that the Albanians \vould 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 expe- 
 
 2 K
 
 498 APPENDIX. 
 
 dition. It was first intended that a body of 2500 men 
 should form the main l^dy, and that Lord Byron 
 should join them with his 500 Suliotes, and with a 
 corps of artillery under Mr. Parry, which had 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 com- 
 mand 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 (nomi- 
 nally at least) under the command of a foreigner, than one 
 of their own body, the direction, it is said, is to be given to 
 me. There is also another reason, which is, that if a capi- 
 tulation should take place, the Mussulmans might perhaps 
 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 obvious motives for such an appointment, as 
 far as I can conjecture ; unless there be one 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 delay- 
 ed, and had been long eagerly expected with his ar- 
 tillery and stores, had not arrived ; and says, " I
 
 LORD BYRON IN GREECE. 499 
 
 presume from the retardment that he is the same Parry 
 who attempted the North Pole, and is (it may be sup- 
 posed) now essaying the Soiitfi.'''' 
 
 The expedition, however, had to experience delay and 
 disappointment from much more important causes than 
 the non-appearance of the engineer. The Suhotes, who 
 conceived that they had found a patron wliose wealtli 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 unma- 
 nageable in a town, were at this moment peculiarly 
 disposed to be obstinate, riotous, and mercenary. They 
 had been chiefly instrumental in preserving Messolon- 
 ghi 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 body of valiant 
 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 l)r()ok the 
 
 2 K 2
 
 500 APPENDIX. 
 
 delay of a favourite scheme, and he saw, with the ut- 
 most chagrin, that the state of his favourite troops was 
 such as to render any attempt to lead them out at pre- 
 sent impracticable. 
 
 The project of proceeding against Lepanto being thus 
 suspended, at a moment when Lord Byron's enthusiasm 
 was at its height, and when he had fully calculated on 
 striking a blow which could not fail to be of the ut- 
 most service to the Greek cause, it is no wonder that 
 the unlooked-for disappointment 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 epilepsy, with which he was attacked on 
 the 1 5th of February. His Lordship was sitting in the 
 apartment of Colonel Stanhope, (the active and enlight- 
 ened representative of the Greek Committee in Greece, 
 who had gone out to co-operate 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 suiFering 
 under some strong emotion. On a sudden he complain- 
 ed of a weakness in one of his legs, and rose ; but find- 
 ing himself unable to walk, he cried out for assistance. 
 He then fell into a state of nervous and convulsive 
 agitation, and was placed on a bed. For some minutes 
 his countenance was much distorted. He however 
 ([uickly recovered his senses ; his speech returned, and 
 h(; soon appeared perfectly well, although enfeebled 
 and exhausted by the violence of the struggle. Du-
 
 LOUD BYRON IN GREECE. 501 
 
 ring the fit he behaved with his usual remarkable firm- 
 ness, 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 bleed- 
 ing, cold bathing, perfect relaxation of mind, &c., and 
 he gradually recovered. An accident, however, hap- 
 pened a few days after his first illness, which was ill 
 calculated to aid the efforts of his medical advisers. A 
 SuHote, accompanied by the late Marco Botzari's 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 Suliotes, and out 
 of which they were ejected with great difficulty for the 
 reception of the Committee stores, and for the occu- 
 pation of the engineers, who required it for a labo- 
 ratory. The sentinel on guard ordered the Suliotes to 
 retire; which being a species of motion to which Su- 
 liotes are not accustomed, the man carelessly advanced ; 
 upon which the sergeant of the guard (a German) de- 
 manded his business, and receiving no satisfactory an- 
 swer, 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 Suliote drew a pistol from his belt. The ser- 
 geant wrenched it out of his hand, and blew the pow- 
 der out of the pan. At this moment Captain Sass, a
 
 502 xS^PPENDlX. 
 
 Swede, seeing the fray, came up and ordered the man 
 to be taken to the guard-room. The Suhote was then 
 disposed to depart, and would have done so if the ser- 
 geant would have permitted him. Unfortunately, Cap- 
 tain Sass did not confine himself to merely giving the 
 order for his arrest ; for when the Suliote struggled to 
 get away. Captain Sass dreAv 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, expired in a few 
 minutes. The Suliote also was a man of distinguished 
 bravery. This was a serious affair, and great apprehen- 
 sions were entertained that it would not end here. The 
 Suliotes refused to surrender the man to justice, alleging 
 that he had been struck, which, in Suliote law, jus- 
 tifies all the consequences which may follow. 
 
 In a letter dated a few days after J^ord Byron's first 
 attack, to a friend in Zante, he speaks of himself as ra- 
 pidly 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 ditliculty in stopping it ; but I have 
 been up daily, and out in boats or on horseback ; to-day I 
 have taken a warm bath, and live as temperately as Avell 
 can be, without any liquid but water, and without any ani- 
 mal food." He then adds, " Besides the four Turks sent
 
 LORD liYKON IN GREECE. 503 
 
 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 concludes thus : — " Matters are 
 here a little embroiled with the Suliotes, foreigners, &c., but 
 I still hope better things, and will 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 pes- 
 tilential place, and, except for purposes of utility, never 
 would have been selected for his residence. A gentle- 
 man of Zante wrote to him early in IMarch, 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 all 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. "^Vhile 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 ill- 
 ness, and that in a great measure superinduced by the 
 conduct of the troops he had taken into his pay and
 
 504 APPENDIX. 
 
 treated with the height of generosity, that he was in no 
 humour to pursue his scheme against Lepanto — sup- 
 posing that his state of health had been such as to bear 
 the fatigue of a campaign in Greece. The Suhotes, 
 however, shewed some signs of repentance, and offered 
 to place themselves at his Lordship's disposal. They 
 had, however, another objection to the nature of the 
 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 sur- 
 rendered ; 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 garri- 
 son. To this his Lordship has appended this note: 
 — " The Suliotes have declined marching against Le- 
 panto, 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 ex- 
 pedition to Lepanto was not thought of after this time. 
 
 This same letter, which communicated to Lord Byron 
 the facihty with which Lepanto might be taken, also 
 announced the intention of Ulysses (Odysseus) to sum- 
 mon a Congress of chiefs at Salona, to consider of a
 
 LORD BYRON TN GREECE. 505 
 
 mode of uniting more closely the interests of Eastern 
 and AVestern Greece, and arrangin<T between them some 
 method of strict co-operation. The whole of these two 
 districts are subordinate to their respective govern- 
 ments, 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 was able to collect all the chiefs of his 
 own district, was most desirous of prevailing upon 
 Mavrocordatos and Lord Byron, who were all-powerful 
 in the opposite territory, to be present at this Con- 
 gress, which he proposed 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 de- 
 sign, and repair to Salona. Odysseus himself first 
 despatched Mr. Finlay ; and after him Captain Hum- 
 phries went over to Messolonghi with all haste, by de- 
 sire of Colonel Stanhope. The latter succeeded. Lord 
 Byron, as may be supposed, was well disposed to the 
 measure ; but his consent was for some time held back 
 by the Prince, Avho had reasons for not approving the 
 Congress. Mavrocordatos was always averse to meeting 
 Odysseus, a man of a very different character from him- 
 self : nor did he relisli the idea of Lord Byron's quit-
 
 506 APPENDIX. 
 
 ting the seat of his government. It was, however, 
 apparently settled that both should attend at Salona, 
 as we learn from a letter from his Lordship to Colonel 
 Stanhope, at Athens, directly accepting the invitation 
 on the part of both ; as well as from another, dated 
 the 22d March, to his agent, of which the following 
 is an extract : — 
 
 " In a few days P. Mavrocordatos and myself Avith a con- 
 siderable escort, intend to proceed to Salona at the request 
 of Ulysses and the chiefs of Eastern Greece ; and to take 
 measures offensive and defensive for the ensuing campaign, 
 Mavrocordatos is almost recalled by the new 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 him, or to take the general direction of affairs in this 
 quarter with General Londos, and any 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 till the Salona meet- 
 ing is over ; but I am willing to serve them in 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 — it is late — and I have been several 
 hours on horseback in a country so miry after the rains, 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 intended. In the Government,
 
 LOBD EVUON TN GKEECE. 507 
 
 wl\lcl\ since Lord Byron's arrival at Messolonghi had 
 been changed, the civil and island interest now great- 
 ly preponderated ; and consequently by it a Congress 
 of military chiefs was looked upon with some jea- 
 lousy, and most unjustly styled an unconstitutional mea- 
 sure. Mavrocordatos's views were now those of the 
 Government ; so that, in addition 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 dehvering up Messo- 
 longhi to the Turks was alleged against the Suliotes. 
 But at last came Lord Byron's fatal illness, and all 
 schemes of congresses and campaigns were for a time 
 forgotten in the apprehensions entertained for his life, 
 and in the subsequent 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.
 
 508 APPENDIX. 
 
 Mr. FLETCHER'S ACCOUNT of LORD BYRON'S 
 LAST MOMENTS. 
 
 The last moments 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 ex- 
 ample. We are 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 possible 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 
 aftecting and interesting a history of the last days of
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 509 
 
 the greatest and the truest poet that England 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 Lord- 
 ship changed the whole of his dress ; but he had been 
 too long in his wet clothes, and the cold, of which he 
 had complained more or less ever since we left Ce- 
 phalonia, 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 bones and a head-ache : this did not, how- 
 ever, prevent him from taking a ride in the afternoon, 
 which 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 illness appear- 
 ed 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 
 httle arrow-root, of which he took three or four spoon- 
 fuls, saying it was very good, but could take no more. 
 It 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. Millin-
 
 510 APPENDIX. 
 
 gen, the two medical attendants, and inquired minutely 
 into every circumstance connected with my master's pre- 
 sent 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 ex- 
 pressing 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, hove 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 one of so 
 serious a nature.' — ' I think I never had,' was his Lord- 
 ship's answer. I repeated my supplications that Dr. 
 Thomas should be sent for, on the 15th, 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 
 jjersuade myself that those of a strong purgative nature 
 were the best adapted for his complaint, concluding 
 that, as he had nothing on his stomach, the only effect
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 511 
 
 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 different 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 evening 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 frequently lu'ged my master to be bled, Ivut 
 that he always refused. A long dispute now arose about 
 the time that had been lost, and the necessity of sending 
 for medical assistance to Zante ; upon which I was in- 
 formed, for the first time, that it would be of no use, 
 as ray master would be better, or no more, before the 
 arrival of Dr. Thomas. His Lordship continued to get 
 worse: but Dr. Bruno said, he thouoht lettino; bloo<l 
 again would save his hfe ; and I lost no time in telHng 
 my master how necessary it was to comply with the 
 doctor's wishes. To this he replied by saying, he fear- 
 ed they knew nothing al)out his disorder ; and then, 
 stretching out his arm, said, ' Here, take my arm, and
 
 512 APPENDIX. 
 
 do whatever you like.' His Lordship continued to get 
 weaker; and on the 17th he was bled twice in the morn- 
 ino-, and at two ©""clock in the afternoon. The bleed- 
 ing at both times was followed by fainting fits, and he 
 would have fallen down more than cnce, 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 appre- 
 hension of his fate tiU the day after, the 18th, when he 
 said, ' I fear you and Tita will be ill by sitting up con- 
 stantly night and day.' I answered, ' We shall never 
 leave your I^ordship 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 Lord- 
 ship addressed me frequently, and seemed to be very 
 much dissatisfied with his medical treatment. I then 
 said, ' Do allow me to send for Dr. Thomas ;' 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
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF I,ORD BYRON. 5l3 
 
 like to see other doctors here."' I did not lose a moment 
 in obeying my mastery'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 Lord,' was my answer; 
 upon which he said, ' You have done right, for I 
 should like to know what is the matter with me.' 
 Although his Lordship did not appear to think his 
 dissolution was so near, I could perceive he was getting 
 weaker every hour, and he 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 lose too much time, and I have it not to spare, for 
 my time is now short,"* said his Lordship ; and imme- 
 diately 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 Iia\e 
 
 2 L
 
 514 APPENDIX. 
 
 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 intervals ; 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 per- 
 plexity, that I had not understood a word of what he 
 said ; to which he replied, ' Oh, my God ! then all 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 ray 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 I 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 adminis- 
 ter 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
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 515 
 
 were addressed, and which, if required, I shall com- 
 municate to themselves, it was impossible to understand 
 any thing his Lordship 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 rephed, * 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 preceding his death. The last words 
 I heard my master utter were at six o'clock on the even- 
 ing 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 I^ordship is gone !' 
 The doctors then felt his pulse, and saitl, * You are 
 right — he is gone !' " 
 
 2 L 2
 
 516 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Editor thinks it right to add here, from " The 
 Examiner," Dr. Bruno''s Answer to Mr. Fletcher's State- 
 ment. 
 
 *' Mr. Fletcher has omitted to state, that on the second 
 day of Lord Byron's illness, his physician. 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 jmight 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 an- 
 swered, * 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.' 
 
 " After the first consultation with Mr. Millingen, 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. Millingen, assured 
 Lord Byron, from day to day, that it could wait till to-
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 517 
 
 morrow ; and thus four days slipped away, during which 
 the disease, for want of blood-letting, grew much worse. 
 At length Mr. Millingen, seeing that the prognostica- 
 tions which Dr. Bruno had made respecting Lord By- 
 ron's malady were more and more confirmed, urged the 
 necessity of bleeding, and of no longer delaying it a 
 monient. 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 under- 
 stand 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 Lord- 
 ship would consent to lose as much blood as was neces- 
 sary, 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. '-»H 
 
 " 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 ad- 
 -vised to take this precaution by Dr. Bruno, the latter 
 having perceived that my Lord had moments of de- 
 lirium. 
 
 " Two days before the death, a consultation was held 
 with three other doctors, who appeared to think that 
 I lis Lordship's disease was changing from inflammatory
 
 518 APPENDIX. 
 
 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 complaint 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 physicians, however, were of 
 a different opinion ; and it was then that Dr. Bruno 
 declared to his colleagues that he would have no further- 
 responsibility for the loss of Lord Byron, which he pro- 
 nounced 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 they gave him a cup of very strong 
 decoction of china, with some drops of laudanum : 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 phy- 
 sicians who were present at that opening were con- 
 vinced that my Lord would have been saved by the 
 
 * This is a French teraij sometimes used for the smilax china ; 
 but -we have no doubt it means here the Jesuit's bark.
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 619 
 
 bleeding, which liis 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 Stan- 
 hope was at Salona ; Mr. Trelawney arrived at Messo- 
 longhi 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 stran- 
 ger the news from Messolonghi ; I heard nothing more 
 than ' Lord Byron is deady' 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 translator's 
 ignorance of anatomy, it has been hitherto perfectly un- 
 intelhgible. 
 
 " L On opening the body of Lord Byron, the bones of 
 the head were found extremely hard, exhibiting no appear- 
 ance of suture, like the cranium of an octogenarian, so that 
 the skull had the appearance of one uniform bone: there 
 seemed to be no diploe^ and the sinus Jr on talis was wanting.
 
 520 APPENDIX. 
 
 2. The dura mater was so firmly attached to the internal 
 parietes of the cranium, that the reiterated attempts of two 
 stroniT 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 muter and the convolutions of the brain 
 were found many globules of air, with exudation of lymph and 
 numerous adhesions. 
 
 4. The great falx of the dtira 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 the minute vessels produced specks 
 of a bright red colour. An extravasation of about 2 oz. of 
 bloody serum was found beneath the pons Varioli, at the 
 base of the hemispheres ; and in the two superior or lateral 
 ventricles a similar extravasation was discovered at the base 
 of the cerebellum, and the usual effects of inflammation were 
 observable tliroughout the cerebrum. 
 
 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 membranes, weigh- 
 ed 61bs. {inediche^. 
 
 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 (gigantiscile). 
 
 9. Between the pericardium and the heart there was about 
 an ounce of lymjih, and the heart itself was of greater size
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 521 
 
 than usual; but its muscular substance was extremely 
 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 distended with 
 air. 
 
 IL 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 11, the physician who attended Lord Byron 
 concludes, that he might probably have recovered from 
 his illness, had he submitted to the loss of blood which 
 was recommended 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 
 Lordship could not have survived many years, on ac- 
 count 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 in- 
 flammation of the brain; at least, if the appearances reaDj 
 were as described. The cause of the attack was clearly 
 his exposure to wet and cold on the 9th of April. By 
 this exposure fever was excited. His brain was predis- 
 posed to disease, as is evident from the attack of con- 
 vulsion from which he was scarcely yet recovered ; and 
 the fever once produced, excited inflanmiation in the 
 brain the more readily on account of the predisposition 
 to disease which had already been manifested in that
 
 522 APPENDIX. 
 
 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 late to do any thing, any suspicion of the true 
 nature of his disease, we are fully satisfied. Nothing 
 is Tcnoivn of any intention to bleed until the 15th, that 
 is, the 6th day of the disease, and then one of the medi- 
 cal 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 con- 
 fidence 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 bleed- 
 ing to his patient, and his Lordship's refusal to submit 
 to the treatment. He called his complaint a cold, and 
 said the patient would be well in a few days, and no 
 physician would propose copious bleeding under such cir- 
 cumstances. It seems to us that Lord Byron's penetra^ 
 tion discovered their hesitation, and suspected the igno- 
 rance by which it was caused, and that his suspicion was 
 but too well founded. Without further evidence we 
 should disbelieve in the total obhteration of the sutures ; 
 and we may add, that all the inferences deduced from 
 the alleged appearances in 1, 8, 9, &c. are absurd; they
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 523 
 
 do not afford evidence enough to warrant the shglitest 
 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 ex- 
 traordinary, 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 teaching or marshalling into the ex- 
 pression of its feeUngs. The rude and military 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 follow- 
 ing proclamation.
 
 'Ap. 1 185.) 
 nP02I2PlNH AIOIKHSIS THS EAAAA02. 
 
 Al\ '7rapou(Tai ^apfj,6(rvvoi yjjtx.?p«j eyjvav 8»a oKovg ri[xa.{ 
 ■f^lLspa.1 TTsvQovg. 
 
 'O Aop5 No'cA Hvpwv UTrspuffs <Tript.spov e\g rijv olWt^v 
 Kuir}v, ■tffsp) Tag evSsxa Mpocg t^v ka'mpa.v /xsra jtz-iav da^ivnav 
 (p\oyifiKOv pBvpi^aTmov TrupsTou 10 rifj,spwv. 
 
 Ka« TTpjv axopiYi p^wpitrflji >) vf/u^^ a^ro to (rccfxcc, 
 r, xojyij xxTrjfsix sXsysv 0(rr,v ^X't^iv fi<T^civsTO ij xocpdix 
 oXmv, xci) oAo« /Ajxpoj ja=yaAo», ccv^pe^ xa) yvvoilxeS} 
 vixYifj^evoi oiTzo ri^v ^xA|/iVj e\Y}a'[ji.ovri<ToiTe to Tloca^yu. 
 
 'H fsptjixig (xvTQu Tou Aoi[Jt,7rpoii uttoxsiju-svou elvaj 
 ^sjSuKx. -KoKKa. alo-SavTJX^ S»' oX>jv T^v 'EAA«8a^ aAAa 
 e»vaj TToXu TZspKTOTspov a^io^privriTOs S»« auT^v t^v ITo'AjVj 
 T^v OTToluv yiyocTTYiO-B Sjaipspo'vTOJf , xa» gij «ut^v iTroAiToypa^?;, 
 xai aTTo'^acTJV g-uQspav sI^bv av to sfspsv r\ 7rsptg-u(rig voi 
 yivfi xoti "TTpotTcainxwi <tvu.(ji,sto^os toov x/vSu'vcuv. t^^ . 
 
 KaS/vaf /SAettji spL-Kpos too Toig TrXova-'tug vpog to 
 xomv £Vcpys(Tiag tow, xal ju-^ts sTraytrs ju-jjts Traujj xkvsig 
 pis svyvoipiova, xa\ aAijfijv^v tpcuv^v va tov o)/Ofj,a^r] 
 svipysTYjv.
 
 GREEK PROCLAMATION, 
 
 525 
 
 "Ewj o\j VOL yvwfOTrojjjflEtJV ai Sjarayaj t^j 'ESvjx^f 
 
 AwvajxH TOW wtt' a^. 314 xa» 13/x. 15 'OxTOJ/Spiou 
 •SecrTriVjM-aTo; roti BcK>A,goT<xoD S^ju-aTO^, 
 
 A««TaTT£Tai, 
 
 a'. ) AvfiOVy fj.6\is av«Te/X>j 6 "HXioj ^ va -bteVouv ajro 
 TO jj.ey<xKciv 7iixvovOia(rtov tou rel^oy^ awT^j t^j Oo'^ew^ 
 37 Kxmvixig ift'icic to xafls Xstttov,) xaTa tov u^tS[ji,ov 
 TctfV ^povoav TYji ?«)))f too diToQavovTog. 
 
 /3'.) "OAa Ta xoiva Cijrovpyslct, 8ja t^sjj ^^fJi-Bfots kutoL 
 <j"uyg^e(av, va xA,=<crdouv, sfx,iripts^oix,iva)v xx) tuv xptTYjclouv. 
 y .) Na x\=»cr9ouv oXa Ta epyas-rjpia. Ixtoj exe/vwv, oVou 
 TTCuXotivTaj Tsofuij xai laTfixoi' xu) va X=/\I/ouv Ta [xova-ixoi 
 vuiyvYi^iOi, ol (ruvsi9«(rj«.lvoj elj auTaj Taj hf'ipa; X°P°h 
 vx TTct'jcrovv TO, ^xyoTTOTiu 6JJ T« xpu<TOT:wKiioLy xcti XCC^f 
 x\Xo sl^of xb^vou ^etpavTUifLUTOi. 
 I .) Na yevjf 21 ri[Jispug Tsvtxrj TrevQi^opia. 
 i .) Na ye'vouv Ittjx^Ssjoi Sri^TSJ^ elj oXaj Ta^ lxxA)j(riaj. 
 
 'Ev Meo-oXoyyjo; t^v 7 'AvpiWiov 1 824- 
 
 T. S. A. Maypoxop5aTOj. 
 
 - 'O r^ajX/xaTeuf 
 
 Tscopyios Tlpal^g. 
 
 'Ex Tf,5 ToTToypoc^lxg A. Meo-^sve'wj.
 
 526 APPENDIX. 
 
 (translation.) 
 
 Art. 1185. Provisional Government of Western Greece. 
 
 The present day of festivity and rejoicing is turned into 
 one of sorrow and mourning. 
 
 Tiie 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 Lord- 
 ship's illness on the public mind, that all classes had forgot- 
 ten their usual recreations of Easter, even before the afflict- 
 ing end was apprehended. 
 
 The loss of this illustrious individual is undoubtedly to be 
 deplored by all Greece ; but it must be more especially a sub- 
 ject 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 partici- 
 pating 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, 
 
 1st. To-morrow morning at daylight, 37 minute-guns shall 
 be fired from the grand battery, being the number which cor- 
 responds with the age of the illustrious deceased. 
 
 2d. All the public offices, even to the tribunals, are to 
 I'emain closed for three successive days.
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LOUD BYIION. 527 
 
 3d. 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 
 dtemonstrations of festivity at Easter, may be suspended. 
 
 4th. A general mourning will be observed for twenty-one 
 days. 
 
 5th. Prayers and a funeral service are to be offered up in 
 all the churches. 
 
 (Signed) A. Mavrocordatos, 
 
 GiORGius Praidis, 
 Given at Messolonghi, Secretary, 
 
 this IQth day of April, 1824. 
 
 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 embalmment, the first step was to 
 send the body to Zante, where the authorities were 
 to decide as to its ultimate 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 pro- 
 position which was received with indignation and most 
 decidedly opposed by the majority of the Enghsh. By 
 one it was proposed that his remains should have been 
 deposited in the temple of Theseus, or in the Parthenon,
 
 528 APPENDIX. 
 
 at Athens ; and as some importance might have been at- 
 tached 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-cpn- 
 secrating, as it were, the sacred land of the Arts and the 
 Muses, we cannot but lament that the measure was not 
 hstened to. Ulysses sent an express to Messolonghi, 
 to solicit that his ashes might be laid in Athens ; the 
 body had then, however, reached Zante, and it appear- 
 ing to be the almost unanimous wish of the English 
 that it should be sent to England, for public burial in 
 Westminster Abbey or St. PauPs, the Resident of the 
 Island yielded; the Florida was taken up for that 
 purpose — and the whole English public know the re- 
 sult. 
 
 It was not only at Messolonghi, but throughout the 
 whok 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 cir- 
 cumstances 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 Eu- 
 rope 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 letter written while he was expected, 
 something like the character "of the coming of a Mes- 
 siah."" Proportionate, doubtless, was the disappoint-
 
 LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 529 
 
 ment, grief, and depression, when his mission ended 
 before he had effected any thing of importance. — For- 
 tunately 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 uncontrollable circumstances ; 
 by the character of the country, by the present ignorance 
 and the former brutality of its oppressors, by Greek in- 
 genuity, 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 character of bandit 
 robbers and shepherd chiefs, watching the moment when 
 they might assume a more generous trade, and on a 
 larger scale revenge the wrongs of a race of mountain- 
 warriors. — By these and a multitude of other causes 
 which might be enumerated, the fate of Greece is cer- 
 tain. We repeat with the most earnest assurance to 
 those who still doubt, and with the most intimate know- 
 ledge of all the facts which have taken place, that the 
 ultimate independence of Greece is secure. The only 
 question at 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 here that Lord 
 Byron might have been useful ; by healing divisions, 
 by exciting dormant energies, by ennobling and ce- 
 
 2 M
 
 530 APPENDIX. 
 
 lebrating the cause, he might perhaps 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 des- 
 pair 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.
 
 ( 531 ) 
 
 FUNERAL ORATION ON LORD NOEL BYRON. 
 
 COMPOSED AND DELIVERED 
 BY M. SPIRIDION TRICOUPI. 
 
 {Printed by Order of Government.) 
 
 Messolonghi, 1 0th April, 
 Thursday in Easter 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 sahitation of the day, " Christ is risen," re- 
 mained but half pronounced on the li])s 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, appeared as if they had 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 dehverance of our native 
 
 land. 
 
 2 M 2
 
 532 APPENDIX. 
 
 And how is it possible that any heart should re- 
 main unmoved, any lip closed upon the present oc- 
 casion ? Was ever Greece in greater want of assistance 
 than when the ever-to-be-lamented 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 poverty would have otherwise rendered irremediable. 
 How many and much greater benefits did we not ex- 
 pect from him !— and to-day, alas ! to-day, the unrelent- 
 ing grave closes over him and our hopes ! 
 
 Residing out of Greece, and enjoying all the pleasures 
 and luxuries of Europe, he might have contributed 
 materially to the success of our cause, without coming 
 personally amongst us ; and this would have been suffi- 
 cient 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 sup- 
 plied. But if this was sufficient for us, it was not so for 
 Lord Byron. Destined by nature to uphold the rights 
 of man whenever he saw them trampled upon ; born in 
 a free and enlightened country ; early taught, by reading 
 the works of our ancestors, (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
 
 FUNERAL ORATION. .j;33 
 
 all the pleasures of Europe, he came to share our suffer- 
 ings and our hardships ; assisting us, not only with his 
 wealth, of which he was profuse ; not only with his judg- 
 ment, of which he has given us so many salutary ex- 
 amples ; — but with his sword, which he was preparing 
 to unsheath against our barbarous and tyrannical oppres- 
 sors. He came, in a word, according to the testimony of 
 those 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 liberal, 
 generous, courageous — a true Philhellenist ; and you have 
 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 his 
 fancy did not permit him to follow the splendid 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 endeavouring, 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 well as the 
 other, a sure road to tnie knowledge. I will not detain
 
 534 APPENDIX. 
 
 you at the present time by expressing all the respect 
 and enthusiasm with which the perusal of his writings 
 has always inspired me, and which indeed I feel much 
 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 for all ages. 
 
 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 acknow- 
 ledged 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 
 possibility 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 en- 
 slaved by barbarians, and more particularly by barbarians 
 rooted for ages in their soil — has not yet seen, I say, such 
 a people throw off their slavery unassisted 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 philosopher beholds it from afar,
 
 FUNERAL OTlxVTION. 535 
 
 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 ob- 
 servant and more on his guard. Such is the extra- 
 ordinary time in whidi we hve. My friends, the in- 
 surrection 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 lament- 
 ed Byron observed this phenomenon, and he wished to 
 unite his name with our glory. Other revolutions 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 w^ere totally different: 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 enlightened 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.
 
 536 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 his 
 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 lips 
 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 I" 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 grateful 
 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, which, though removed from us, he will 
 observe from the heavens, of which his virtues have 
 doubtless opened to him the gates. This return alone 
 
 * This translation is by a Greek at Messolonghi, from the 
 original modern Greek Gazette. No alterations have been made 
 though a few suggest themselves ; one of which is, that Lord 
 Byron was not born in London.
 
 FUNERAL ORATION. 537 
 
 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 hfe. 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 Archbishop 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 consecrate it with his oratory ; 
 and the poet, resting upon the marble, will become 
 doubly inspired ; the virgins of Greece (whose beauty 
 our ihustrious fellow-citizen Byron has celebrated in 
 many of his poems,) without any longer fearing con- 
 tamination 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 the poet of 
 our age has already commemorated with such grace 
 and truth. But what sorrowful thought now presses 
 upon my mind ! INIy fancy has carried me away ; I had 
 pictured to myself all that my heart could have desired ; 
 I had imagined the blessing 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
 
 538 APPENDIX. 
 
 will remain void ; but a few days more 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 precious remains. Mes- 
 solonghi, 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
 
 FUNERAL ORATION. 539 
 
 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 funeral couch, and swore never to forget the sacri- 
 fices 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 moment 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.
 
 540 APPENDIX. 
 
 ODE TO THE MEMORY OF LORD BYRON. 
 
 FROM A CiREEK JOURNAL. 
 
 'Hoi} elj Tov \op^ Bvpmu. 
 'EXeysia. 
 
 Tovg Xai^TTpovi upouj t^5 vIx>)? uflvcav. 
 
 njxpwj XuTToOvT «l rl/vx«» tSv eXXi^vc/JV 
 T' axoysi (xaxpo'Qsv xal %«!>' ix^poV 
 
 '0 <plXoj ^X9f, TTAijV jX0X»5 TOV siSov, 
 ,:Sx«7rT0uv xXaiovTsj tov ra^ov awTOu. 
 
 'l8ou TO TsXo? IvSo^cov IXtt/Scov 
 
 K«l TO rpmuiov davarou (rxX>)pou. 
 
 'HxSs va £ju.7rv=ucr' coj aXXoc TypTaToc, 
 
 El? xa9; a-ni9o5 TroXejxwv opfAijv 
 nx^v (psu! 6 BapSoj IX7r»Vaf [uarami 
 
 '18ou |U.£ve« e»J alwvjov (TiayKr^v. 
 'ilj SsvSpov x=7t' ott' i>tn(r[un fJ.Bya.Kuii 
 
 T^v KopvfyjV (ji.ov(TiKOt> Hapvua-aou, 
 Nuv TrpoTToSwv (p&ilpoua-ctTov TO xaXXoj 
 
 Ilvo'r] TO sppivj/' otvefjiov (ji^olpov. 
 'EXXa? ! £«v TO o-coju-aT >; 'AyyX.'a 
 
 N« <psp* ''? p-v^i^a ^r)Ta TraTpjxov 
 Eks, Mowo-cwv J) |U.*]Tepa yXux=»«, 
 
 Elvaj Tgxvov ju-ou 6 ujoj twv Mouo-wv. 
 
 KctTa^povcibv Tojv gpwTwv tov; ^privovg 
 
 'HSOV^S jM-^V SiitOVCaV TYjV (pOJV^V, 
 
 'E^^T idui YipMCtiV TOW? xjvSyycuj
 
 / 
 
 ODE, &c. 541 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 [[from the literary gazette.] 
 
 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 — ^but, alas ! how soon 
 With him the light of all our prospects Hed I 
 
 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 Avhich waved its shady head, 
 
 And graced the heights where famed Parnassus join'd. 
 Is torn by tempests from its earthy bed. 
 
 And yields its beauties scatter'd 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 heroic dangers he despised ; 
 
 Then Greece, the land of heroes, be his tomb ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET.
 
 E 11 II A T A. 
 
 Pa^e 13, line 2, fur" resistless" >"m</ " restless." 
 15, — 15, omit semicolon after " wonder." 
 18, , for " rather fine" read " first." 
 
 19, — 3, — " five-frauc" reff*/ " five-Paul." 
 
 20, — 14, — " forming" read " frowning." 
 
 36, — 3, a full stop after the word " say." 
 
 37, — 2, after " Gambas," add " who took no part in the aifair." 
 89, — 7, for *' prime" read " jjriui." 
 
 92, — 8, the sentence commencing in this line belongs to the 
 folloiring paragraph. 
 132, — 4, for " Troilus' and Cressida's passion," read " Troilus 
 
 and Cressida passim." 
 138, — 16, — " Werner" re^id " Werner's play." 
 145, — 19, — " Argive" read " Argine." 
 
 148, — 6, — " Miltiades" read " Mithridates." 
 
 149, — 14, after " do," instead of" and was" read " Lewis." 
 153, , for " wag" read " hag." 
 
 157, last line — " eats" read " ate." 
 
 177 , line 8, — " Benyous" rrarf " Benzons." 
 
 206, — 2, after " at Lucca" insert " said wShelley." 
 
 206, — 12, — " school" insert " replied Lord Byron." 
 
 208, — 5, for " recitation" read " recitative." 
 
 233, •— 10, — " row" read" snoring." 
 
 249, — 7, after " seraglio" a colon — after " there" omit the full 
 
 stop. 
 291, — 15, for " Mrs. Pope" read " Mrs. Hope." 
 295, — 9, — " lasses" read " asses," 
 379 — 17, — " Signor" read " Sergeant." 
 
 380, 381, do. do. 
 
 381, — 11, — " bender" read" Bender." 
 
 426, — 7, — " sublime and effect" read " sublimity and effect." 
 
 17 1
 
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