'/
BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
BYRON:
THE LAST PHASE
BY RICHARD EDGCUMBE
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
153-157 FIFTH AVENUE
1909
UJMIVERSITY OF ( ALIf ORNIA
SANTA BARBARA
TO
MRS. CHARLES CALL,
DAUGHTER OF EDWARD TRELAWNY, BYRON'S
COMPANION IN GREECE,
I DEDICATE THIS WORK AS A MARK OF AFFECTION
AND ESTEEM
PREFACE
This book has no pretensions ; it is merely a record
of events and impressions which nearly forty years of
close study have accumulated. There seems to be a
general agreement that the closing scenes of Byron's
short life have not been adequately depicted by his
biographers. From the time of Byron's departure
from Ravenna, in the autumn of 1821, his disposition
and conduct underwent a transformation so complete
that it would have been difficult to recognize, in the
genial, unselfish personality who played so effective a
role at Missolonghi, the gloomy misanthrope of 181 1,
or the reckless libertine of the following decade.
The conduct of Byron in Greece seems to have
come as a revelation to his contemporaries, and his
direction of complex affairs, in peculiarly trying
circumstances, certainly deserves more attention than
it has received. Records made on the spot by men
whose works are now, for the most part, out of print
have greatly simplified my task, and I hope that the
following pages may be acceptable to those who have
not had an opportunity of studying that picturesque
phase of Byron's career. I should have much pre-
ferred to preserve silence on the subject of his separa-
tion from his wife. Unfortunately, the late Lord
Lovelace, in giving his sanction to the baseless and
viii PREFACE
forgotten slanders of a bygone age, has recently
assailed the memory of Byron's half-sister, and has
set a mark of infamy upon her which cannot be erased
without referring to matters which ought never to
have been mentioned.
In order to traverse statements made in ' Astarte,' it
was necessary to reveal an incident which, during
Byron's lifetime, was known only by those who
were pledged to silence. With fuller knowledge
of things hidden from Byron's contemporaries, we may
realize the cruelty of those futile persecutions to
which Mrs. Leigh was subjected by Lady Byron and
her advisers, under the impression that they could
extract the confession of a crime which existed only
in their prurient imaginations. Mrs. Leigh, in one of
her letters to Hobhouse, says, * I have made it a rule to
be silent— that is to say. As Long As I Can.' Although
the strain must have been almost insupportable she
died with her secret unrevealed, and the mystery
which Byron declared ' too simple to be easily found
out ' has hitherto remained unsolved. I regret being
unable more precisely to indicate the source of in-
formation embodied in the concluding portions of this
work. The reader may test the value of my state-
ments by the light of citations which seem amply to
confirm them. At all events, I claim to have shown
by analogy that Lord Lovelace's accusation against
Mrs. Leigh is groundless, and therefore his contention,
that Byron's memoirs were destroyed because they
implicated Mrs. Leigh, is absolutely untenable. Those
memoirs were destroyed, as we now know, because
both Hobhouse and Mrs. Leigh feared possible revela-
tions concerning another person, whose feelings and
interests formed the paramount consideration of those
PREFACE ix
who were parties to the deed. Lord John Russell,
who had read the memoirs, stated in 1869 that
Mrs. Leigh was not implicated in them, a fact which
proves that they were not burned for the purpose of
shielding her.
Lord Lovelace tells us that Sir Walter Scott, who
had heard full particulars from Thomas Moore,
remarked, ' It is a pity, but there tvas a reason — premai
nox alta.' Facts which they hoped deep oblivion
would hide have come to the surface at last, and I
deeply regret that circumstances should have imposed
upon me a duty which is repugnant both to my
inclination and instincts. After all is said, the
blame rightly belongs to Lady Byron's grandson,
who, heedless of consequences, stirred the depths of
a muddy pool. He tells us, in 'Astarte,' (i) that the
papers concerning Byron's marriage have been care-
fully preserved ; (2) that the}'' form a complete record
of all the causes of separation ; and (3) that they contain
full information on every paii of the subject.
In those circumstances it is strange that, with the
whole of Lady Byron's papers before him. Lord
Lovelace should have published only documents of
secondary importance which do not prove his case.
After saying, ' It should be distinctly understood that
no misfortunes, blunders, or malpractices, have swept
away Lady Byron's papers, or those belonging to
the executors of Lord Byron,' he leaves the essential
records to the imagination of his readers, and feeds
us on hints and suggestions which are not borne
out by extracts provided as samples of the rest. It
is impossible not to suspect that Lord Lovelace,
in arranging the papers committed to his charge,
discarded some that would have told in favour of
X PREFACE
Mrs. Leigh, and selected others which colourably
supported his peculiar views.
In matters of this kind everything depends upon
the qualifications of the accuser and the reliability
of the witness. Lord Lovelace in a dual capacity
certainly evinced an active imagination.
As an example, 'Astarte,' which was designed to
blast the fair fame of Mrs. Leigh, was used by him to
insult the memory of the late Mr. Murray (who he
admits showed him many acts of kindness), and to
repudiate promises which he undoubtedly made,
to edit his grandfather's works. Rambling statements
are made with design to discredit both Mr. Gifford,
the editor of the Quarterly, and Mr. Murray, the
friend of Lord Byron. Even personal defects are
dragged in to prejudice the reader and embitter the
venom of irrelevant abuse. It was as if Plutarch, in
order to enhance the glory of Antony, had named
' the Last of the Romans ' Cassius the Short-sighted.
Fortunately, written proofs were in existence to
controvert Lord Lovelace's assertions — proofs which
were used with crushing effect — otherwise Mr.
Murray might have found himself in a position
quite as helpless as that of poor Mrs. Leigh her-
self. So unscrupulous a use of documents in that
case suggests the possibility that a similar process
may have been adopted in reference to Mrs. Leigh.
It is indeed unfortunate that Lady Byron's papers
cannot be inspected by some unprejudiced person, for
we have nothing at present beyond Lord Lovelace's
vague assertions. Were those papers thoroughly
sifted they would surely acquit Mrs. Leigh of the
crime that has been so cruelly laid to her charge.
Meanwhile I venture to think that the following
PREFACE xi
pages help to clear the air of much of that mystery
which surrounds the liv^es of Lord Byron and his
sister.
In conclusion, I desire to record my personal
obligation to the latest edition of the ' Poems,' edited
by Mr. Ernest Hartley Coleridge ; and of the * Letters
and Journals,' edited by Mr. Rowland Prothero,
volumes which together form the most comprehen-
sive and scholarly record of Byron's life and poetry
that has ever been issued,
R. E.
August, 1909.
BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
PART I
* . . . Le cose ti fien conte,
Quando noi fermerem li nostri passi
Sulla trista riviera d' Acheronle.'
Inferno, Canto III., 76-78.
CHAPTER I
' A LARGE disagreeable city, almost without inhabi-
tants ' — such was the poet Shelley's description of
Pisa in 1821. The Arno was yellow and muddy, the
streets were empty, and there was altogether an air
of poverty and wretchedness in the town. The con-
victs, who were very numerous, worked in the streets
in gangs, cleaning and sweeping them. They were
dressed in red, and were chained together by the
leg in pairs. All day long one heard the slow clank-
ing of their chains, and the rumbling of the carts
they were forced to drag from place to place like so
many beasts of burden. A spectator could not but
be struck by the appearance of helpless misery
stamped on their yellow cheeks and emaciated
forms.
On the Lung' Arno Mediceo, east of the Ponte di
Mezzo, stands the Palazzo Lanfranchi, which is sup-
posed to have been built by Michael Angelo. Here,
on November 2, 1821, Lord Byron arrived, with his
servants, his horses, his monkey, bulldog, mastiff,
cats, peafowl, hens, and other live stock, which he
had brought with him from Ravenna. In another
quarter of the city resided Count Rugiero Gamba,
his son Pietro, and his daughter Countess Teresa
;? I — 2
4 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
Guiccioli. On the other side of the Arno, nearly
opposite to Byron's residence, lived the poet Shelley,
with his wife and their friends Edward and Jane
Williams.
In the middle of November, Captain Thomas
Medwin, a relative of Shelley's, arrived at Pisa ; and
on January 14, 1822, came Edward John Trelawny,
who was destined to play so important a part in the
last scenes of the lives of both Shelley and Byron.
Byron was at this time in his thirty-third year.
Medwin thus describes his personal appearance :
'I saw a man of about five feet seven or eight,
apparently forty years of age. As was said of Milton,
Lord Byron barely escaped being short and thick.
His face was fine, and the lower part symmetrically
moulded ; for the lips and chin had that curved and
definite outline that distinguishes Grecian beauty.
His forehead was high, and his temples broad ; and he
had a paleness in his complexion almost to wanness.
His hair, thin and fine, had almost become grey, and
waved in natural and graceful curls over his head,
that was assimilating itself fast to the "bald first
Caesar's." He allowed it to grow longer behind than
it is accustomed to be worn, and at that time had
mustachios which were not sufficiently dark to be
becoming. In criticizing his features, it might,
Eerhaps, be said that his eyes were placed too near
is nose, and that one was rather smaller than the
other. They were of a greyish -brown, but of a
peculiar clearness, and when animated possessed a
fire which seemed to look through and penetrate the
thoughts of others, while they marked the inspirations
of his own. His teeth were small, regular, and white.
I expected to discover that he had a club-foot ; but it
would have been difficult to have distinguished one
from the other, either in size or in form. On the
whole, his figure was manly, and his countenance
handsome and prepossessing, and very expressive.
The familiar ease of his conversation soon made me
perfectly at home in his society.'
BYRON'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE 5
Trelawny's description is as follows :
' In external appearance Byron realized that ideal
standard with which imagination adorns genius. He
was in the prime of life, thirty-four ; of middle height,
five feet eight and a half inches ; regular features,
without a stain or furrow on his pallid skin ; his
shoulders broad, chest open, body and limbs finely
proportioned. His small highly - finished head and
curly hair had an airy and graceful appearance from
the massiveness and length of his throat ; you saw his
genius in his eyes and lips,'
Trelawny could find no peculiarity in his dress,
which was adapted to the climate. Byron wore :
' a tartan jacket braided — he said it was the Gordon
pattern, and that his mother was of that race — a blue
velvet cap with a gold band, and very loose nankin
trousers, strapped down so as to cover his feet. His
throat was not bare, as represented in drawings.'
Lady Blessington, who first saw Byron in April of
the following year, thus describes him :
' The impression of the first few minutes dis-
appointed me, as I had, both from the portraits and
descriptions given, conceived a diff'erent idea of him.
I had fancied him taller, with a more dignified and
commanding air; and I looked in vain for the hero-
looking sort of person, with whom I had so long
identified him in imagination. His appearance is,
however, highly prepossessing. His head is finely
shaped, and his forehead open, high, and noble ; his
eyes are grey and full of expression, but one is visibly
larger than the other. The nose is large and well
shaped, but, from being a little too thick, it looks better
in profile than in front-face ; his mouth is the most
remarkable feature in his face, the upper lip of Grecian
shortness, and the corners descending; the lips full,
and finely cut.
* In speaking, he shows his teeth very much, and
they are white and even ; but I observed that even in
his smile — and he smiles frequently — there is some-
thing of a scornful expression in his mouth, that is
6 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
evidently natural, and not, as many suppose, affected.
This particularly struck me. His chin is large and
well shaped, and finishes well the oval of his face.
He is extremely thin— indeed, so much so that his
figure has almost a boyish air. His face is peculiarly
pale, but not the paleness of ill-health, as its character
is that of fairness, the fairness of a dark-haired person ;
and his hair (which is getting rapidly grey) is of a
very dark brown, and curls naturally : he uses a good
deal of oil in it, which makes it look still darker. His
countenance is full of expression, and changes with
the subject of conversation ; it gains on the beholder
the more it is seen, and leaves an agreeable impres-
sion. . . . His whole appearance is remarkably gentle-
manlike, and he owes nothing of this to his toilet, as
his coat appears to have been many years made, is
much too large — and all his garments convey the idea
of having been purchased ready-made, so ill do they
fit him. There is 3. gaucherie in his movements, which
evidently proceeds from the perpetual consciousness
of his lameness, that appears to haunt him ; for he
tries to conceal his foot when seated, and when walk-
ing has a nervous rapidity in his manner. He is very
slightly lame, and the deformity of his foot is so little
remarkable, that I am not now aware which foot it is.
' His voice and accent are peculiarly agreeable, but
effeminate — clear, harmonious, and so distinct, that
though his general tone in speaking is rather low
than high, not a word is lost. His manners are as
unlike my preconceived notions of them as is his
appearance. I had expected to find him a dignified,
cold, reserved, and haughty person, but nothing can
be more different; for were I to point out the
prominent defect of Lord Byron, I should say it was
flippancy, and a total want of that natural self-posses-
sion and dignity, which ought to characterize a man of
birth and education.'
Medwin tells us, in his 'Journal of the Conversa-
tions of Lord Byron,' that Byron's voice had a flexi-
bility, a variety in its tones, a power and pathos,
beyond any he ever heard ; and his countenance was
capable of expressing the tenderest as well as the
BYRON'S LAMENESS 7
strongest emotions, which would perhaps have made
him the finest actor in the world.
The Countess Guiccioli, who had a longer acquaint-
ance with Byron than any of those who have attempted
to portray him, says :
* Lord Byron's eyes, though of a light grey, were
capable of all extremes of expression, from the most
joyous hilarity to the deepest sadness, from the very
sunshine of benevolence to the most concentrated
scorn or rage. But it was in the mouth and chin that
the great beauty as well as expression of his fine
countenance lay. His head was remarkably small, so
much so as to be rather out of proportion to his face.
The forehead, though a little too narrow, was high,
and appeared more so from his having his hair (to
preserve it, as he said) shaved over the temples.
Still, the glossy dark brown curls, clustering over his
head, gave the finish to its beauty. When to this is
added that his nose, though handsomely, was rather
thickly shaped, that his teeth were white and regular,
and his complexion colourless, as good an idea, perhaps,
as it is in the power of mere words to convey may be
conceived of his features. In height he was five feet
eight inches and a half. His hands were very white,
and, according to his own notions of the size of hands
as indicating birth, aristocratically small. . . . No
defect existed in the formation of his limbs ; his slight
infirmity was nothing but the result of weakness of
one of his ankles. His habit of ever being on horse-
back had brought on the emaciation of his legs, as
evinced by the post-mortem examination ; the best
proof of this is the testimony of William Swift, boot-
maker at Southwell, who had the honour of working
for Lord Byron from 1805 to 1807.'
It appears that Mrs. Wildman (the widow of the
Colonel who had bought Newstead from Byron) not
long before her death presented to the Naturalist
Society of Nottingham several objects which had
belonged to Lord Byron, and amongst others his
8 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
boot and shoe trees. These trees are about nine
inches long, narrow, and generally of a symmetrical
form. They were accompanied by the following
statement :
' William Swift, bootmaker at Southwell, Notting-
hamshire, having had the honour of working for Lord
Byron when residing at Southwell from 1805 to 1807,
asserts that these were the trees upon which his
lordship's boots and shoes were made, and that the
last pair delivered was on the loth May, 1807. He
moreover affirms that his lordship had not a club
foot, as has been said, but that both his feet were
equally well formed, one, however, being an inch and
a half shorter than the other.* The defect was not in
the foot, but in the ankle, which, being weak, caused
the foot to turn out too much. To remedy this, his
lordship wore a very light and thin boot, which was
tightly laced just under the sole, and, when a boy, he
was made to wear a piece of iron with a joint at the
ankle, which passed behind the leg and was tied behind
the shoe. The calf of this leg was weaker than the
other, and it was the left leg.
'(Signed) William Swift.'
'This, then,' says Countess Guiccioli, *is the extent
of the defect of which so much has been said, and
which has been called a deformity. As to its being
visible, all those who knew him assert that it was so
little evident, that it was even impossible to discover
in which of the legs or feet the fault existed.'
Byron's alleged sensitiveness on the subject of his
lameness seems to have been exaggerated.
'When he did show it,' continues Countess Guic-
cioli, ' which was never but to a very modest
extent, it was only because, physically speaking, he
suffered from it. Under the sole of the weak foot he
at times experienced a painful sensation, especially
* Medwin, in his book ' Tlie Angler in Wales,' vol. ii., p. 211, says :
The right foot, as everyone knows, being twisted inwards, so as to
amount to what is generally known as a club-foot.'
PORTRAITS OF BYRON 9
after long walks. Once, at Genoa, Byron walked
down the hill from Albaro to the seashore with me
by a rugged and rough path. When we had reached
the shore he was very well and lively. But it was an
exceedingly hot day, and the return home fatigued him
greatly. When home, I told him that I thought he
looked ill. "Yes," said he, "I suffer greatly from my
foot ; it can hardly be conceived how much I suffer at
times from that pain ;" and he continued to speak to
me about this defect with great simplicity and in-
difference.'
We have been particular to set before the reader the
impression which Byron's personal appearance made
upon those who saw him at this time, because none of
the busts or portraits seem to convey anything like an
accurate semblance of this extraordinary personality.
Had the reader seen Byron in his various moods, he
would doubtless have exclaimed, with Sir Walter
Scott, that ' no picture is like him.'
The portrait by Saunders represents Byron with
thick lips, whereas 'his lips were harmoniously
perfect,' says Countess Guiccioli. Holmes almost
gives him a large instead of his well-proportioned
head. In Phillips's picture the expression is one ot
haughtiness and affected dignity, which Countess
Guiccioli assures us was never visible to those who
saw him in life. The worst portrait of Lord Byron,
according to Countess Guiccioli, and which surpasses
all others in ugliness, was done by Mr. West, an
American, ' an excellent man, but a very bad painter.'
This portrait, which some of Byron's American
admirers requested to have taken, and which Byron
consented to sit for, was begun at Montenero, near
Leghorn. Byron seems only to have sat two or three
times for it, and it was finished from memory.
Countess Guiccioli describes it as * a frightful carica-
10 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
tare, which his family or friends ought to destroy.'
As regards busts, she says :
'Thorwaldsen alone has, in his marble bust of
Byron, been able to blend the regular beauty of his
features with the sublime expression of his counte-
nance.'
On January 22, 1822, Byron's mother-in-law, Lady
Noel, died at the age of seventy.
' I am distressed for poor Lady Byron,' said the
poet to Medwin : 'she must be in great affliction, for
she adored her mother! The world will think that
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. If we are not
reconciled, it is not my fault.'
There is no trace of this letter, and it is ignored by
Lord Lovelace in 'Astarte.' It may be well here to
point out how erroneous was the belief that Miss
Milbanke was an heiress. Byron on his marriage
settled ;^6o,ooo on his wife, and Miss Milbanke was to
have brought ;^2o,ooo into settlement ; but the money
was not paid. Sir Ralph Milbanke's property was
at that time heavily encumbered. Miss Milbanke had
some expectations through her mother and her uncle,
Lord Wentworth ; but those prospects were not men-
tioned in the settlements. Both Lord Wentworth and
Sir Ralph Milbanke were free to leave their money
as they chose. When Lord Wentworth died, in April
181 5, he left his property to Lady Milbanke for her
life, and at her death to her daughter, Lady Byron.
Therefore, at Lady Noel's death Byron inherited the
whole property by right of his wife. But one of the
terms of the separation provided that this property
SOCIETY OF THE SHELLEYS ii
should be divided by arbitrators. Lord Dacre was
arbitrator for Lady Byron, and Sir F. Burdett for
Byron. Under this arrangement half the income was
allotted to the wife and half to the husband. In the
London Gazette dated 'Whitehall, March 2, 1822,' royal
licence is given to Lord Byron and his wife that
they may * take and use the surname of Noel only,
and also bear the arms of Noel only ; and that the
said George Gordon, Baron Byron, may subscribe the
said surname of Noel before all titles of honour.'
Henceforward the poet signed all his letters either
with the initials N. B. or with ' Noel Byron ' in full.
Byron was at this time in excellent health and
spirits, and the society of the Shelleys made life
unusually pleasant to him, Ravenna, with its gloomy
forebodings, its limited social intercourse, to say
nothing of its proscriptions — for nearly all Byron's
friends had been exiled — was a thing of the past.
The last phase had dawned, and Byron was about to
show another side of his character. Medwin tells us
that Byron's disposition was eminently sociable, how-
ever great the pains which he took to hide it from the
world. On Wednesdays there was always a dinner
at the Palazzo Lanfranchi, to which the convives were
cordially welcomed. When alone Byron's table was
frugal, not to say abstemious. But on these occasions
every sort of wine, every luxury of the season, and
every English delicacy, were displayed. Medwin says
he never knew any man do the honours of his house
with greater kindness and hospitality. On one occasion,
after dinner, the conversation turned on the lyrical
poetry of the day, and a question arose as to which
was the most perfect ode that had been produced.
Shelley contended for Coleridge's on Switzerland
12 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
beginning, ' Ye clouds,' etc. ; others named some of
Moore's 'Irish Melodies' and Campbell's ' Hohen-
linden '; and, had Lord Byron not been present, his
own Invocation to Manfred, or Ode to Napoleon,
or on Prometheus, might have been cited. ' Like
Gray,' said Byron, ' Campbell smells too much of the
oil : he is never satisfied with what he does ; his finest
things have been spoiled by over-polish— the sharp-
ness of the outline is worn off. Like paintings, poems
may be too highly finished. The great art is effect,
no matter how produced.'
And then, rising from the table, he left the room, and
presently returned with a magazine, from which he
read 'The Burial of Sir John Moore ' with the deepest
feeling. It was at that time generally believed that
Byron was the author of these admirable stanzas;
and Medwin says : ' I am corroborated in this opinion
lately (1824) by a lady, whose brother received them
many years ago from Lord Byron, in his lordship's
own handwriting.'
These festive gatherings were not pleasing to
Shelley, who, with his abstemious tastes and modest,
retiring disposition, disliked the glare and surfeit
of it all. But Shelley's unselfish nature overcame
his antipathy, and for the sake of others he sacrificed
himself In writing to his friend Horace Smith,
he marks his repugnance for these dinners, 'when
my nerves are generally shaken to pieces by sitting
up, contemplating the rest of the company making
themselves vats of claret, etc., till three o'clock
in the morning.' Nevertheless, companionship with
Byron seemed for a time, to Shelley and Mary, to
be like 'companionship with a demiurge who could
create rolling worlds at pleasure in the void of space.'
SHELLEY NO INFLUENCE OVER BYRON 13
Shelley's admiration for the poetic achievements of
Byron is well known :
* Space wondered less at the swift and fair creations
of God when he grew weary of vacancy, than I at the
late works of this spirit of an angel in the mortal
paradise of a decaying body. So I think — let the
world envy, while it admires as it may.'*
And again : * What think you of Lord Byron's last
volume ? In my opinion it contains finer poetry than
has appeared in England since the publication of
*' Paradise Regained." " Cain " is apocalyptic ; it is a
revelation not before communicated to man.'
Byron recognized Shelley's frankness, courage, and
hardihood of opinion, but was not influenced by him
so much as was at that time supposed by his friends
in England. In writing to Horace Smith (April 11,
1822), Shelley begs him to assure Moore that he had
not the smallest influence over Byron's religious
opinions.
* If I had, I certainly should employ it to eradicate
from his great mind the delusions of Christianit3'',
which, in spite of his reason, seem perpetually to
recur, and to lay in ambush for the hours of sickness
and distress. ** Cain " was cojtceived many years ago,
and begun before I saw him last year at Ravenna.
How happy should I not be to attribute to myself,
however indirectly, any participation in that immortal
work !'
' Byron,' says Professor Dowden in his ' Life of
Shelley,' ' on his own part protested that his dramatis
personce uttered their own opinions and sentiments,
not his.'
Byron undoubtedly had a deep-seated reverence for
religion, and had a strong leaning towards the Roman
* Letter to Mr. Gisborne, January 12, 1822. Professor Dowden's
' Life of Shelley,' vol. ii., p. 447.
14 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
Catholic doctrines. Writing to Moore (March 4, 1822),
he says :
' I am no enemy to religion, but the contrary. As a
proof, I am educating my natural daughter a strict
Catholic in a convent of Romagna ; for I think people
can never have enough of religion, if they are to have
any ... As to poor Shelley, who is another bug-
bear to you and the world, he is, to my knowledge,
the least selfish and the mildest of men— a man who
has made more sacrifices of his fortune and feelings
for others than any I ever heard of. With his specu-
lative opinions I have nothing in common, nor desire
to have.
Countess Guiccioli, a woman of no ordinary intuitive
perceptions, with ample opportunities for judging the
characters of both Shelley and Byron, makes a clear
statement on this point :
' In Shelley's heart the dominant wish was to see
society entirely reorganized. The sight of human
miseries and infirmities distressed him to the greatest
degree ; but, too modest himself to believe that he
was called upon to take the initiative, and inaugurate
a new era of good government and fresh laws for the
benefit of humanity, he would have been pleased to
see such a genius as Byron take the initiative in this
undertaking. Shelley therefore did his best to in-
fluence Byron. But the latter hated discussions. He
could not bear entering into philosophical speculation
at times when his soul craved the consolations of
friendship, and his mind a little rest. He was quite
insensible to reasonings, which often appear sublime
because they are clothed in words incomprehensible
to those who have not sought to understand their
meaning. But he made an exception in favour of
Shelley. He knew that he could not shake his faith
in a doctrine founded upon illusions, by his in-
credulity; but he listened to him with pleasure, not
only on account of Shelley's good faith and sincerity,
but also because he argued upon false data, with such
talent and originality, that he was both interested and
SHELLEY'S METAPHYSICS 15
amused. Lord Byron had examined every form of
philosophy by the light of common sense, and by the
uistinct of his genius. Pantheism in particular was
odious to him. He drew no distinction between
absolute Pantheism which mixes up that which is
infinite with that which is finite, and that form of
Pantheism which struggles in vain to keep clear of
Atheism. Shelley's views, clothed in a veil of
spiritualism, were the most likely to interest Byron,
but they did not fix him. Byron could never consent
to lose his individuality, deny his own freedom of
will, or abandon the hope of a future existence. As a
matter of fact, Byron attributed all Shelley's views to
the aberrations of a mind which is happier when it
dreams than when it denies.'
* Shelley appears to me to be mad with his meta-
physics,' said 3yron on one occasion to Count Gamba.
* What trash in all these systems ! say what they will,
mystery for mystery, I still find that of the Creation
the most reasonable of any.'
Thus it will be seen that the opinions of Lord Byron
on matters of religion were far more catholic than those
of his friend Shelley, who could not have influenced
Byron in the manner generally supposed. That a
change came over the spirit of Byron's poetry after
meeting Shelley on the Lake of Geneva is unques-
tionable ; but the surface of the waters may be
roughened by a breeze without disturbing the depths
below. Like all true poets, Byron was highly sus-
ceptible to passing influences, and there can be no
doubt that Shelley impressed him deeply.
The evident sincerity in the life and doctrines of
Shelley — his unworldliness ; the manner in which
he had been treated by the world, and even by his
own family, aroused the sympathy of Byron, at a
time when he himself was for a different cause smart-
ing under somewhat similar treatment. Although
i6 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
Byron and Shelley differed fundamentally on some
subjects they concurred in the principles of others.
Byron had no fixed religious opinions— that was the
string upon which Shelley played— but there is a
wide difference between doubt and denial. Gamba,
after Byron's death, wrote thus to Dr. Kennedy :
' My belief is that Byron's religious opinions were
not fixed. I mean that he was not more inclined
towards one than towards another of the Christian
sects ; but that his feelings were thoroughly religious,
and that he entertained the highest respect for the
doctrines of Christ, which he considered to be the
source of virtue and of goodness. As for the incorn-
prehensible mysteries of religion, his mind floated in
doubts which he wished most earnestly to dispel, as
they oppressed him, and that is why he never avoided
a conversation on the subject, as you are well aware.
I have often had an opportunity of observing him at
times when the soul involuntarily expresses its most
sincere convictions ; in the midst of dangers, both at
sea and on land ; in the quiet contemplation of a calm
and beautiful night, in the deepest solitude. On these
occasions I remarked that Lord Byron's thoughts were
always imbued with a religious sentiment. The first
time I ever had a conversation with him on that
subject was at Ravenna, my native place, a little more
than four years ago. We were riding together in the
Pineta on a beautiful spring day. " How," said Byron,
" when we raise our eyes to heaven, or direct them to
the earth, can we doubt of the existence of God ? or
how, turning them inwards, can we doubt that there
is something within us, more noble and more durable
than the clay of which we are formed ? Those who
do not hear, or are unwilling to listen to these feelings,
must necessarily be of a vile nature." I answered him
with all those reasons which the superficial philosophy
of Helvetius, his disciples and his masters, have taught.
Byron replied with very strong arguments and pro-
found eloquence, and I perceived that obstinate con-
tradiction on this subject, which forced him to reason
upon it, gave him pain. This incident made a deep
GAMBA'S LETTER TO KENNEDY 17
impression upon me. . . . Last year, at Genoa, when
we were preparing for our journey to Greece, Byron
used to converse with me alone for two or three hours
every evening, seated on the terrace of his residence
at Albaro in the fine evenings of spring, whence there
opened a magnificent view of the superb city and the
adjoining sea. Our conversation turned almost always
on Greece, for which we were so soon to depart, or on
religious subjects. In various ways I heard him con-
firm the sentiments which I have already mentioned
to you. " Why, then," said I to him, ** have you
earned for yourself the name of impious, and enemy
of all religious belief, from your writings ?" He
answered, "They are not understood, and are wrongly
interpreted by the malevolent. My object is only to
combat hypocrisy, which I abhor in everything, and
particularly in religion, and which now unfortunately
appears to me to be prevalent, and for this alone do
those to whom you allude wish to render me odious,
and make me out worse than I am.'*'
We have quoted only a portion of Pietro Gamba's
letter, but sufficient to show that Byron has been, like
his friend Shelley, ' brutally misunderstood.' There
was no one better qualified than Count Gamba to
express an opinion on the subject, for he was in the
closest intimacy with Byron up to the time of the
latter's death. There was no attempt on Byron's part
to mystify his young friend, who had no epistolary
intercourse with those credulous people in England
whom Byron so loved to 'gull' The desire to blacken
his own character was reserved for those occasions
when, as he well knew, there would be most publicity.
Trelawny says :
* Byron's intimates smiled at his vaunting of his
vices, but comparative strangers stared, and noted his
sayings to retail to their friends, and that is the way
many scandals got abroad.'
According to the same authority, George IV. made
i8 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
the sport known as ' equivocation ' the fashion ; the
men about town were ashamed of being thought
virtuous, and bragged of their profligacy. ' In com-
pany,' says Trelawny, ' Byron talked in Don Juan's
vein ; with a companion with whom he was familiar,
he thought aloud.'
Among the accusations made against Byron by those
who knew him least was that of intemperance— in-
temperance not in meat and drink only, but in every-
thing. It must be admitted that Byron was to blame
for this ; he vaunted his propensity for the bottle,
and even attributed his poetic inspirations to its aid.
Trelawny, who had observed him closely, says:
*0f all his vauntings, it was, luckily for him, the
emptiest. From all that I heard or witnessed of his
habits abroad, he was and had been exceedingly
abstemious in eating and drinking. When alone, he
drank a glass or two of small claret or hock, and when
utterly exhausted at night, a single glass of grog;
which, when I mixed it for him, I lowered to what
sailors call " water bewitched," and he never made
any remark. I once, to try him, omitted the alcohol ;
he then said, " Tre, have you not forgotten the creature
comfort ?" I then put in two spoonfuls, and he was
satisfied. This does not look like an habitual toper.
Byron had not damaged his body by strong drinks, but
his terror of getting fat was so great that he reduced
his diet to the point of absolute starvation. He was
the only human being I ever met with who had suffi-
cient self-restraint and resolution to resist this prone-
ness to fatten. He did so; and at Genoa, where he
was last weighed, he was ten stone and nine pounds,
and looked much less. This was not from vanity of
his personal appearance, but from a better motive,
and, as he was always hungry, his merit was the
greater. Whenever he relaxed his vigilance he swelled
apace. He would exist on biscuits and soda-water for
days together; then, to allay the eternal hunger gnaw-
ing at his vitals, he would make up a horrid mess of
BYRON'S WEIGHT
19
cold potatoes, rice, fish, or greens, deluged in vinegar,
and swallow it like a famished dog. Either of these
unsavoury dishes, with a biscuit and a glass or two of
Rhine wine, he cared not how sour, he called feasting
sumptuously. Byron was of that soft, lymphatic tem-
perament which it is almost impossible to keep within
a moderate compass, particularly as in his case his
lameness prevented his taking exercise. When he
added to his weight, even standing was painful, so he
resolved to keep down to eleven stone.'
While on this subject, it is not uninteresting to
contrast the effects of Byron's regimen of abstinence
by the light of a record kept by the celebrated wine-
merchants, Messrs. Berry, of St. James's Street. This
register of weights has been kept on their premises
for the convenience of their customers since 1765, and
contains over twenty thousand names. The following
extract was made by the present writer on Novem-
ber 2, 1897 •*
Date.
January 4, 1806 (boots, no hat)
July 8, 1807 (shoes)
July 23, 1807 (shoes, no hat)
August 13, 1807 (shoes, no hat)
January 13, 1808 (see Moore's ' Life')
May 27, 1808 (Messrs. Berry") ...
June 10, 1809 (Messrs. Berry) ...
July 15, 1811 (Messrs. Berry) ...
(Circa) June, 1823 (see Trelawny)
It will be seen at a glance that between the ages
of eighteen and thirty-five Byron had reduced his
weight by three stone and three pounds. The fluc-
tuations between the ages of nineteen and thirty-five
are not remarkable. This record marks the con-
sistency of a heroic self-denial under what must often
have been a strong temptation to appease the pangs
Stone.
lbs.
Age.
13
12
.. 18
10
13
.. 19
II
.. 19
10
114
.. 19
10
7
20
II
I
—
II
5f
21
9
114
.. 23
10
9
•• 35
of hunger.
Lord Byron.'
CHAPTER II
Byron's life at Pisa, as afterwards at Genoa, was what
most people would call a humdrum, dull existence.
He rose late.
* Billiards, conversation, or reading, filled up the
intervals,' says Medwin, ' 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, then drove to Count Gamba's,
the Countess Guiccioli's father, passed several hours
in their 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 fancied himself, subject.'
On Sunday, March 24, 1822, while Byron, Shelley,
Trelawny, Captain Hay, Count Pietro Gamba, and an
Irish gentleman named Taaffe, were returning from
their evening ride, and had nearly reached the Porta
alle Piagge at the eastern end of the Lung' Arno,
Sergeant-Major Masi, belonging to a dragoon regiment,
being apparently in a great hurry to get back to
barracks, pushed his way unceremoniously through
the group of riders in front of him, and somewhat
severely jostled Mr. Taaffe. This gentleman appealed
20
THE AFFRAY AT PISA 21
to Byron, and the latter demanded an apology from
the sergeant, whom he at first mistook for an officer.
The sergeant lost his temper, and called out the
guard at the gateway. Byron and Gamba dashed
through, however, and before the others could follow
there was some ' dom'd cutting and slashing '; Shelley
was knocked off his horse, and Captain Hay received
a wound in his face. Masi in alarm fled, and on the
Lung' Arno met Byron returning to the scene of
the fray : an altercation took place, and one of Byron's
servants, who thought that Masi had wounded his
master, struck at him with a pitchfork, and tumbled
the poor fellow off his horse. There was a tremendous
hubbub about this, and the legal proceedings which
followed occupied two months, with much bluster,
false swearing, and injustice, as a natural consequence.
The court eventually came to the conclusion that there
was no evidence for criminal proceedings against any
of Byron's domestics, but, in consideration of Giovanni
Battista Falcieri — one of Byron's servants — having a
black beard, he was condemned to be escorted by the
police to the frontier and banished from the grand-
duchy of Tuscany.
At the same time the Gambas (who had nothing
whatever to do with the affair) were told that their
presence at Pisa was disagreeable to the Government.
In consequence of the hint, Byron and the Gambas
hired the Villa Dupuy, at Montenero, near Leghorn.
Here, on June 28, 1822, a scuffle took place in the
gardens of the villa between the servants of Count
Gamba and of Byron, in which Byron's coachman and
his cook took part. Knives were drawn as usual.
Byron appeared on the balcony with his pistols,
and threatened to shoot the whole party if they did
22 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
not drop their knives, and the police had to be called
in to quell the disturbance. The Government, who
were anxious to be rid of Byron, took advantage of
this riot at the Villa Dupuy. Byron's courier and
Gamba's valet were sent over the frontier of the grand-
duchy under police escort, and the Gambas were
warned that, unless they left the country within three
days, formal sentence of banishment would be passed
upon them. As soon as Byron heard the news, he
wrote a letter to the Governor of Leghorn, and
asked for a respite for his friends. A few days grace
were granted to the Gambas, and on July 8 they took
passports for Genoa, intending to go first to the Baths
of Lucca, where they hoped to obtain permission to
return to Pisa. While negotiations were proceeding
Byron returned to the Palazzo Lanfranchi.*
On April 20, 1822, there died at Bagnacavallo, not far
from Ravenna, Byron's natural daughter Allegra,
whose mother, Claire Clairmont, had joined the
Shelleys at Pisa five days previously. The whole
story is a sad one, and shall be impartially given in
these pages.
When Shelley left Ravenna in August, 1821, he
understood that Byron had determined that Allegra
should not be left behind, alone and friendless, in the
Convent of Bagnacavallo, and Shelley hoped that an
arrangement would be made by which Claire might
have the happiness of seeing her child once more.
When Byron arrived at Pisa in November, and
Allegra was not with him, Claire Clairmont's anxiety
was so great that she wrote twice to Byron, pro-
testing against leaving her child in so unhealthy a place,
* 'Letters and Journals of Lord Byron,' edited by Rowland
Prothero, vol. vi., appendix iii.
DEATH OF ALLEGRA 23
and entreated him to place Allegra with some respect-
able family in Pisa, or Florance, or Lucca. She
promised not to go near the child, if such was his wish,
nor should Mary or Shelley do so without Byron's
consent. Byron, it appears, took no notice of these
letters. The Shelleys, while strongly of opinion that
Allegra should in some way be taken out of Byron's
hands, thought it prudent to temporize and watch for
a favourable opportunity. Claire held wild schemes
for carrying off the child, schemes which were under
the circumstances impolitic, even if practicable. Both
Mary and Shelley did their utmost to dissuade Claire
from any violent attempts, and Mary, in a letter
written at this time, assures Claire that her anxiety for
Allegra's health was to a great degree unfounded.
After carefully considering the affair she had come to
the conclusion that Allegra was well taken care of by
the nuns in the convent, that she was in good health,
and would in all probability continue so.
On April 15 Claire Clairmont arrived at Pisa on
a visit to the Shelleys, and a few days later started
with the Williamses for Spezzia, to search for houses
on the bay. Professor Dowden says :*
'They cannot have been many hours on their
journey, when Shelley and Mary received tidings of
sorrowful import, which Mary chronicles in her
journal with the words " Evil news." Allegra was
dead. Typhus fever had raged in the Romagna, but
no one wrote to inform her parents with the fact.'
Lord Byron felt the loss bitterly at first.
* His conduct towards this child,' says Countess
Guiccioli, *was always that of a fond father. He was
dreadfully agitated by the first intelligence of her
* ' Life of Shelley,' vol. ii., p. 494.
24 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
illness ; and when afterwards that of her death arrived,
I was obliged to fulfil the melancholy^ task of com-
municating it to him. The memory of that frightful
moment is stamped indelibly on my mind. A mortal
paleness spread itself over his face, his strength failed
him, and he sank into a seat. His look was fixed, and
the expression such that I began to fear for his reason ;
he did not shed a tear; and his countenance manifested
so hopeless, so profound, so sublime a sorrow, that at
the moment he appeared a being of a nature superior
to humanity. He remained immovable in the same
attitude for an hour, and no consolation which I
endeavoured to afford him seemed to reach his ears,
far less his heart.'
Writing to Shelley on April 23, 1822, Byron says :
' I do not know that I have anything to reproach in
my conduct, and certainly nothing in my feelings and
intentions towards the dead. But it is a moment when
we are apt to think that, if this or that had been done,
such events might have been prevented, though every
day and hour shows us that they are the most natural
and inevitable. I suppose that Time will do his usual
work. Death has done his.'
Whatever may be thought of Byron's conduct in
the matter of Miss Claire Clairmont — conduct which
Allegra's mother invariabl}'- painted in the darkest
colours — the fact remains as clear as day, that Byron
always behaved well and kindly towards the poor
little child whose death gave him such intense pain.
The evidence of the Hoppners at Venice, of Countess
Guiccioli at Ravenna, and of the Shelleys, all point in
the same direction ; and if any doubt existed, a close
study of the wild and wayward character of Claire
Clairmont would show where the truth in the matter
lay. Byron was pestered by appeals from Allegra's
mother, indirectly on her own behalf, and directly on
behalf of the child. Claire never understood that, by
BYRON'S ANTIPATHY TO CLAIRE 25
reason of Byron's antipathy to her, the surest way of
not getting what she wanted was to ask for it ; and,
with appalling persistency, she even persuaded Shelley
to risk his undoubted influence over Byron by inter-
cessions on her behalf, until Byron's opinion of
Shelley's judgment was shaken. After making full
allowance for the maternal feeling, so strong in all
women, it was exceedingly foolish of Claire not to
perceive that Byron, by taking upon himself the
adoption of the child, had shielded her from scandal ;
and that, having surrendered Allegra to his care, Claire
could not pretend to any claim or responsibility in the
matter. It should also be pointed out that, in sending
Allegra to the convent at Bagnacavallo, Byron had no
intention of leaving her there for any length of time.
It was merely a provisional step, and, at Hoppner's
suggestion, Byron thought of sending the child to a
good institution in Switzerland. In his will he had
bequeathed to the child the sum of ^5,000, which was
to be paid to her either on her marriage or on her
attaining the age of twenty-one years (according as the
one or the other should happen first), with the proviso
that she should not marry with a native of Great
Britain. Byron was anxious to keep her out of
England, because he thought that his natural daughter
would be under great disadvantage in that country,
and would have a far better chance abroad.
CHAPTER III
On April 26, 1822, the Shelleys left Pisa for Lerici,
and on May i they took up their abode in the Casa
Magni, situated near the fishing-village of San Terenzo.
Towards the close of May, Byron moved to his new
residence at Montenero, near Leghorn.
Leigh Hunt's arrival, at the end of June, added con-
siderably to Byron's perplexities. The poet had not
seen Hunt since they parted in England six years
before, and many things had happened to both of
them since then. Byron, never satisfied that his
promise to contribute poetry to a joint stock literary
periodical was wise, disliked the idea more and more
as time went on, and Shelley foresaw considerable
difficulties in the way of keeping Byron up to the
mark in this respect. Hunt had brought over by sea
a sick wife and several children, and opened the ball
by asking Byron for a loan of money to meet current
expenses. Byron now discovered that Leigh Hunt
had ceased to be editor of the Examiner, and, being
absolutely without any source of income, had no
prospect save the money he hoped to get from a
journal not yet in existence. He ought, of course, to
have told both Byron and Shelley that in coming to
Italy with his family— a wife and six children— he
26
HUNT'S IMPECUNIOSITY 27
would naturally expect one or both of his friends to
provide the necessary funds. This information Hunt
withheld, and although both Byron and Shelley knew
him to be in pecuniary embarrassment, and had every
wish to assist him, they were both under the impres-
sion that Hunt had some small income from the
Examiner. Byron was astonished to hear that his
proposed coadjutor in a literary venture had not
enough money in his pockets even for one month's
current expenses. He was not inclined to submit
tamely to Hunt's arrangements for sucking money
out of him.
Beginning as he meant to go on, Byron from the
first showed Hunt that he had no intention of being
imposed upon, and the social intercourse between
them was, to say the least of it, somewhat strained.
Byron and Shelley betv/een them had furnished the
ground-floor of the Palazzo Lanfranchi for the Hunt
family, and had Shelley lived he would, presumably,
have impoverished himself by disbursements in their
favour; but his death placed the Hunts in a false
position. Had Shelley lived, his influence over Byron
would have diminished the friction between Byron
and his tactless guest. The amount of money spent
by Byron on the Hunt family was not great, but,
considering the comparative cheapness of living in
Italy at that time, and the difference in the value
of money, Byron's contribution was not niggardly.
After paying for the furniture of their rooms in his
palace, and sending £200 for the cost of their voyage
to Italy, Byron gave Leigh Hunt £70 while he was
at Pisa, defrayed the cost of their journey from
Pisa to Genoa, and supplied them with another £T)0
to enable them to travel to Florence. There was
28 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
really no occasion for Byron to make Hunt a present
of ^500, which he seems to have done, except Hunt's
absolute incapacity to make both ends meet, which
was his perpetual weakness. From the manner in
which Hunt treats his pecuniary transactions with
the wide-awake Byron, it is evident that the sum
would have risen to thousands if Byron had not turned
a deaf ear to the ' insatiable applicant' at his elbow.
On the first visit which Trelawny paid to Byron at
the Palazzo Lanfranchi after Hunt's arrival, he found
Mrs. Hunt was confined to her room, as she generally
was, from bad health. Trelawny says :
' Hunt, too, was in delicate health — a hypochondriac ;
and the seven children, untamed, the eldest a little
more than ten, and the youngest a yearling, were
scattered about playing on the large marble staircase
and in the hall. Hunt's theory and practice were
that children should be unrestrained until they were of
an age to be reasoned with. If they kept out of his
way he was satisfied. On my entering the poet's
study, I said to him, "The Hunts have effected a
lodgment in your palace;" and I was thinking how
different must have been his emotion on the arrival of
the Hunts from that triumphant morning after the
publication of *' Childe Harold " when he "awoke and
found himself famous." '
Truth told, the Hunts' lodgment in his palace must
have been a terrible infliction to the sensitive Byron.
His letters to friends in England at this time are full
of allusions to the prevailing discomfort. Trelawny
tells us that
' Byron could not realize, till the actual experiment
was tried, the nuisance of having a man with a sick
wife and seven disorderly children interrupting his
solitude and his ordinary customs— especially as Hunt
did not conceal that his estimate of Byron's poetry was
not exalted. At that time Hunt thought highly of his
BYRON'S RECEPTION OF MRS. HUNT 29
own poetry and underestimated all other. Leigh Hunt
thought that Shelley would have made a great poet if
he had written on intelligible subjects. Shelley soared
too high for him, and Byron flew too near the ground.
There was not a single subject on which Byron and
Hunt could agree.'
After Shelley and his friend Williams had established
the Hunts in Lord Byron's palace at Pisa, they returned
to Leghorn, Shelley ' in a mournful mood, depressed
by a recent interview with Byron,' says Trelawny.
It was evident to all who knew Byron that he
bitterly repented having pledged himself to embark on
the literary venture which, unfortunately, he himself had
initiated. At their last interview Shelley found Byron
irritable whilst talking with him on the fulfilment
of his promises with regard to Leigh Hunt. Byron,
like a lion caught in a trap, could only grind his teeth
and bear it. Unfortunately, it w^as not in Byron's
nature to bear things becomingly ; he could not restrain
the exhibition of his inner mind. On these occasions
he was not at his best, and forgot the courtesy due
even to the most unwelcome guest. Williams appears
to have been much impressed by Byron's reception of
Mrs. Hunt, and, writing to his wife from Leghorn,
says :
* Lord Byron's reception of Mrs. Hunt was most
shameful. She came into his house sick and ex-
hausted, and he scarcely deigned to notice her; was
silent, and scarcely bowed. This conduct cut Hunt
to the soul. But the way in which he received our
friend Roberts, at Dunn's door,* shall be described
when we meet : it must be acted.'
Shelley and Edward Williams, two days after that
letter had been written — on Monday, July 8, 1822, at
* Henry Dunn kept a British shop at Leghorn.
30 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
three o'clock in the afternoon— set sail on the Ariel
for their home on the Gulf of Spezzia. The story is
well known, thanks to the graphic pen of Edward
Trelawny, and we need only allude to the deaths of
Shelley and Williams, and the sailor lad Charles
Vivian, in so far as it comes into our picture of Byron
at this period.
Byron attended the cremation of the bodies ol
Shelley and Williams, and showed his deep sympathy
with Mary Shelley and Jane Williams in various ways.
Writing to John Murray from Pisa on August 3,
1822, he says :
' I presume you have heard that Mr. Shelley and
Captain Williams were lost on the 7th ultimo in their
passage from Leghorn to Spezzia, in their own open
boat. You may imagine the state of their families :
I never saw such a scene, nor wish to see another.
You were all brutally mistaken about Shelley, who
was, without exception, the best and least selfish man
I ever knew. I never knew one who was not a beast
in comparison.'*
Writing August 8, 1822, to Thomas Moore, Byron
says in allusion to Shelley's death :
'There is thus another man gone, about whom the
world was ill-naturedly, and ignorantly, and brutally
mistaken. It will, perhaps, do him justice now, when
he can be no better for it'
In another letter, written December 25, 1822, Byron
says :
' You are all mistaken about Shelley. You do not
know how mild, how tolerant, how good he was in
society ; and as perfect a gentleman as ever crossed a
drawmg-room, when he liked, and where he liked.'
* For Byron's opinion of Shelley's poetry, see appendix to ' The
Two Foscari ' : ' I highly admire the poetry of " Queen Mab " and
Shelley's other publications.'
THE 'LIBERAL' A BAD BUSINESS 31
Byron's opinion of Leigh Hunt, and his own con-
nection with that ill-fated venture known as The
Liberal, is concisely given by Byron himself in a
letter to Murray. The Liberal, published October 15,
1822, was fiercely attacked in the Literary Gazette and
other periodicals. The Courier for October 26, 1822,
calls it a ' scoundrel-like publication.' Byron writes :
* I am afraid the journal is a bad business, and won't
do ; but in it I am sacrificing myself ior others — I can
have no advantage in it. I believe the brothers Hunt
to be honest men ; I am sure they are poor ones.
They have not a rap : they pressed me to engage in
this work, and in an evil hour I consented ; still, I
shall not repent, if I can do them the least service. I
have done all I can for Leigh Hunt since he came
here; but it is almost useless. His wife is ill, his six
children not very tractable, and in the affairs of the
world he himself is a child. The death of Shelley left
them totally aground ; and I could not see them in
such a state without using the common feelings of
humanity, and what means were in my power to set
them afloat again.'
In another letter to Murray (December 25, 1822)
Byron says :
* Had their [the Hunts'] journal gone on well, and I
could have aided to make it better for them, I should
then have left them, after my safe pilotage off a lee-
shore, to make a prosperous voyage by themselves.
As it is, I can't, and would not if I could, leave them
amidst the breakers. As to any community of feeling,
1 thought, or opinion between Leigh Hunt and me,
there is little or none. We meet rarely, hardly ever ;
but I think him a good-principled and able man, and
must do as I would be done by. I do not know what
world he has lived in, but I have lived in three or
four ; and none of them like his Keats and Kangaroo
terra incognita. Alas ! poor Shelley ! how he would
have laughed had he lived, and how we used to laugh
now and then, at various things, which are grave in
the Suburbs !'
32 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
It is perhaps not generally known that Shelley
bequeathed a legacy of i:2,ooo to Byron. Byron's
renunciation of this token of friendship is ignored
by Professor Dowden in his life of Shelley. Writing
to Leigh Hunt on June 28, 1823, Byron says :
'There was something about a legacy of two
thousand pounds which he [Shelley] has left me.
This, of course, I declined, and the more so that I hear
that his will is admitted valid; and I state this dis-
tinctly that, in case of anything happening to me, my
heirs may be instructed not 10 claim it.'
Towards the end of September, 1822, Byron and the
Countess Guiccioli left the Palazzo Lanfranchi, and
moved from Pisa to Albaro, a suburb of Genoa. At
the Villa Saluzzo, where the poet resided until his
departure for Greece, dwelt also Count Gamba and
his son Pietro, who occupied one part of that large
house, while Byron occupied another part, and their
establishments were quite separate. The first number
of The Liberal which had been printed in London,
reached Byron's hands at this time. The birth of that
unlucky publication was soon followed by its death,
as anyone knowing the circumstances attending its
conception might have foreseen. Shelley's death may
be said to have destroyed the enterprise and energy
of the survivors of that small coterie, who, in the
absence of that vital force, the fine spirit that had
animated and held them together, * degenerated apace,'
as Trelawny tells us. Byron 'exhausted himself in
planning, projecting, beginning, wishing, intending,
postponing, regretting, and doing nothing. The un-
ready are fertile in excuses, and his were inexhaustible.'
In December, 1822, Trelawny laid up Byron's yacht,
The Bolivar, paid off the crew, and started on horse-
LOSS OF THE 'BOLIVAR' 3s
back for Rome. The Bolivar was eventually sold
by Byron to Lord Blessington for 400 guineas. Four
or five years after Byron's death this excellent little
sea-boat, with Captain Roberts (who planned her for
Byron) on board, struck on the iron-bound coast of
the Adriatic and foundered. Not a plank of her was
saved.
* Never,' said Captain Roberts in narrating the
circumstance many years afterwards, * was there a
better sea-boat, or one that made less lee-way than
the dear little Bolivar, but she could not walk in the
wind's eye. I dared not venture to put her about in
that gale for fear of getting into the trough of the sea
and being swamped. To take in sail was impossible,
so all we had left for it was to luff her up in the lulls,
and trust to Providence for the rest. ISfight came on
dark and cold, for it was November, and as the sea
boiled and foamed in her wake, it shone through the
pitchy darkness with a phosphoric efflorescence. The
last thing I heard was my companion's exclamation,
" Breakers ahead !" and almost at the same instant
The Bolivar struck : the crash was awful ; a watery
column fell upon her bodily like an avalanche, and all
that I remember was, that I was struggling with the
waves. I am a strong swimmer, and have often
contested with Byron in his own element, so after
battling long with the billows, covered with bruises,
and more dead than alive, I succeeded in scrambling
up the rocks, and found myself in the evergreen pine-
forest of Ravenna, some miles from any house. But
at last I sheltered myself in a forester's hut. Death
and I had a hard struggle that bout.'*
On April i, 1823, Lord and Lady Blessington
called on Byron at the Casa Saluzzo. Lady Blessing-
ton assures us that, in speaking of his wife, Byron
declared that he was totally unconscious of the cause
of her leaving him. He said that he left no means
* ' The Angler in Wales,' by Thomas Medwin, vol. ii., pp. 144-146.
3
34 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
untried to effect a reconciliation, and added with bitter-
ness : ' A day will arrive when I shall be avenged. I
feel that I shall not live long, and when the grave has
closed over me, what must she feel !'
In speaking of his sister, Byron always spoke with
strong affection, and said that she was the most faultless
person he had ever known, and that she was his only
source of consolation in his troubles during the separa-
tion business.
' Byron,' says Lady Blessington, ' has remarkable
penetration in discovering the characters of those
around him, and piques himself on it. He also thinks
that he has fathomed the recesses of his own mind ;
but he is mistaken. With much that is little (which he
suspects) in his character, there is much that is great
that he does not give himself credit for. His first
impulses are always good, but his temper, which is
impatient, prevents his acting on the cool dictates of
reason. He mistakes temper for character, and takes
the ebullitions of the first for the indications of the
nature of the second.'
Lady Blessington seems to have made a most
searching examination of Byron's character, and very
little escaped her vigilance during the two months of
their intimate intercourse. She tells us that Byron
talked for effect, and liked to excite astonishment.
It was difficult to know when he was serious, or when
he was merely 'bamming' his aquaintances. He
admitted that he liked to hoax people, in order that
they might give contradictory accounts of him and of
his opinions. He spoke very highly of Countess
Guiccioli, whom he had passionately loved and deeply
respected. Lady Blessington says : * In his praises
of Madame Guiccioli it is quite evident that he is
sincere.'
BYRON'S OPINION OF SHELLEY 35
Byron confessed that he was not happy, but admitted
that it was his own fault, as the Countess Guiccioli,
the only object of his love, had all the qualities to
render a reasonable being happy. In speaking of
Allegra, Byron said that while she lived her existence
never seemed necessary to his happiness ; but no
sooner did he lose her than it appeared to him as
though he could not exist without her. It is note-
worthy that, one evening, while Byron was speaking to
Lady Blessington at her hotel at Genoa, he pointed
out to her a boat at anchor in the harbour, and said :
* That is the boat in which my friend Shelley went
down — the sight of it makes me ill. You should have
known Shelley to feel how much I must regret him.
He was the most gentle, most amiable, and least
worldly-minded person I ever met ; full of delicacy,
disinterested beyond all other men, and possessing a
degree of genius, joined to a simplicity, as rare as it is
admirable. He had formed to himself a beaii-ideal of
all that is fine, high-minded, and noble, and he acted
up to this ideal even to the very letter. He had a
most brilliant imagination, but a total want of worldly
wisdom. I have seen nothing like him, and never
shall again, I am certain.'
We may, upon the evidence before us, take it for
certain that Byron only admired two of his contem-
poraries — Sir Walter Scott and Shelley. He liked
Hobhouse, and they had travelled together without
a serious quarrel, which is a proof of friendship ; but
he felt that Hobhouse undervalued him, and, as
Byron had a good deal of the spoiled child about him,
he resented the friendly admonitions which, it seems,
Hobhouse unsparingly administered whenever they
were together. Tom Moore was a ' croney ' — a man
3—2
36 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
to laugh and sit through the night with— but there
was nothing, either in his genius or his conduct,
which Byron could fall down and worship, as he
seemed capable of doing in the case of Shelley and
Scott.
It is evident that Lady Byron occupied his thoughts
continually ; he constantly mentioned her in conversa-
tion, and often spoke of the brief period during which
they lived together. He told Lady Blessington that,
though not regularly handh:ome, he liked her looks.
He said that when he reflected on the whole tenor
of her conduct — the refusing any explanation, never
answering his letters, or holding out any hopes that in
future years their child might form a bond of union
between them — he felt exasperated against her, and
vented this feeling in his writings. The mystery of
Lady Byron's silence piqued him and kept alive his
interest in her. It was evident to those who knew
Byron during the last year of his life that he anxiously
desired a reconciliation with her. He seemed to think
that, had his pecuniary affairs been in a less ruinous
state, his temper would not have been excited as it
constantly was, during the brief period of their union,
by demands of insolent creditors whom he was unable
to satisfy, and who drove him nearly out of his senses,
until he lost all command of himself, and so forfeited
his wife's affection. Byron felt himself to blame for
such conduct, and bitterly repented of it. But he
never could divest himself of the idea that his wife
still took a deep interest in him, and said that Ada
must always be a bond of union between them, though
perchance they were parted for ever.
' I am sure,' said Lady Blessington, * that if ten
nidividuals undertook the task of describing Byron,
RELATIONS WITH COUNTESS GUICCIOLI 37
no two of the ten would agree in their verdict respect-
ing him, or convey any portrait that resembled the
other, and yet the description of each might be correct,
according to individual opinion. The truth is, that
the chameleon-like character or manner of Byron
renders it difficult to portray him ; and the pleasure
he seems to take in misleading his associates in their
estimation of him increases the difficulty of the task.'
On one occasion Byron lifted the veil, and showed
his inmost thoughts by words which were carefully
noted at the time. He spoke on this occasion from
the depth of his heart as follows :
* Can I reflect on my present position without bitter
feelings ? Exiled from my country by a species of
ostracism — the most humiliating to a proud mind,
when daggers and not shells were used to ballot,
inflicting mental wounds more deadly and difficult to
be healed than all that the body could suffer. Then
the notoriety that follows me precludes the privacy I
desire, and renders me an object of curiosity, which is
a continual source of irritation to my feelings. I am
bound by the indissoluble ties of marriage to 07ie who
will not live with me, and live with one to w^hom I
cannot give a legal right to be my companion, and
who, wanting that right, is placed in a position humili-
ating to her and most painful to me. Were the
Countess Guiccioli and I married, we should, I am
sure, be cited as an examble of conjugal happiness,
and the domestic and retired life we lead would entitle
us to respect. But our union, wanting the legal and
religious part of the ceremony of marriage, draws on
us both censure and blame. She is formed to make a
good wife to any man to whom she attaches herself.
She is fond of retirement, is of a most affectionate
disposition, and noble-minded and disinterested to the
highest degree. Judge then how mortifying it must
be to me to be the cause of placing her in a false
position. All this is not thought of when people are
blinded by passion, but when passion is replaced by
better feelings — those of affection, friendship, and
confidence — when, in short, the liaison has all of
38 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
marriage but its forms, then it is that we wish to give
it the respectability of wedlock. I feel this keenly,
reckless as I appear, though there are few to whom I
would avow it, and certainly not to a man.'
There is much in this statement which it is necessary
for those who wish to understand Byron's position at
the close of his life to bear in mind. We may accept
it unreservedly, for it coincides in every particular
with conclusions independently arrived at by the
present writer, after a long and patient study of all
circumstances relating to the life of this extra-
ordinary man. At the period of which we write — the
last phase in Byron's brief career — the poet was,
morally, ascending.
His character, through the fire of suffering, had
been purified. Even his pride — so assertive in public
— had been humbled, and he was gradually and in-
sensibly preparing himself for a higher destiny, un-
concious of the fact that the hand of Death was upon
him. ' Wait,' he said, ' and you will see me one day
become all that I ought to be. I have reflected
seriously on all my faults, and that is the first step
towards amendment.'
CHAPTER IV
Certain it is, that in proportion to the admiration
which Byron's poetic genius excited, was the severity
of the censure which his fellow-countrymen bestowed
on his defects as a man. The humour of the situation
no doubt appealed to Byron's acute sense of propor-
tion, and induced him to feed the calumnies against
himself, by painting his own portrait in the darkest
colours. Unfortunately, the effects of such conduct
long survived him ; for the world is prone to take a
man at his own valuation, and * hypocrisy reversed '
does not enter into human calculations. It is un-
fortunate for the fame of Byron that his whole conduct
after the separation was a glaring blunder, for which
no subsequent act of his, no proof of his genius, could
by any possibility atone.
Truth told, the obloquy which Byron had to endure,
after Lady Byron left him, was such as might well
have changed his whole nature. It must indeed have
been galling to that proud spirit, after having been
humbly asked everywhere, to be ostentatiously asked
nowhere. The injustice he suffered at the hands of
those who were fed on baseless calumnies raised in his
breast a feeling of profound contempt for his fellow-
creatures — a contempt which led him into many
39
40 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
follies; thus, instead of standing up against the storm
and meeting his detractors face to face, as he was both
capable of and justified in doing, he chose to leave
England under a cloud, and, by a system of mystifica-
tion, to encourage the belief that he thoroughly
deserved the humiliation which had been cast upon him.
As a consequence, to employ the words of Macaulay,
'all those creeping things that riot in the decay of
nobler natures hastened to their repast; and they
were right ; they did after their kind. It is not every
day that the savage envy of aspiring dunces is grati-
fied by the agonies of such a spirit, and the degrada-
tion of such a name.'
Lady Blessington tells us that Byron had an
excellent heart, but that it was running to waste for
want of being allowed to expend itself on his fellow-
creatures. His heart teemed with affection, but his
past experiences had checked its course, and left it to
prey on the aching void in his breast. He could
never forget his sorrows, which in a certain sense
had unhinged his mind, and caused him to deny to
others the justice that had been denied to himself.
He affected to disbelieve in either love or friendship,
and yet was capable of making great sacrifices for
both.
' He has an unaccountable passion for misrepresent-
ing his own feelings and motives, and exaggerates his
defects more than an enemy could do ; and is often
angry because we do not believe all he says against
himself If Byron were not a great poet, the char-
latanism of affecting to be a Satanic character, in this
our matter-of-fact nineteenth century, would be very
amusing: but when the genius of the man is taken
into account, it appears too ridiculous, and one feels
mortified that he should attempt to pass for some-
thing that all who know him rejoice that he is not. If
BYRON'S CONTEMPT FOR LUXURIES 41
Byron knew his own power, he would disdain such
unworthy means of attracting attention, and trust to
his merit for commanding it.'
As Lady Blessington remarks in her ' Conversations
of Lord Byron,' from which we have largely quoted,
Byron's pre-eminence as a poet gives an interest to
details which otherwise would not be worth mention-
ing. She tells us, for instance, that one of the
strongest anomalies in Byron was the exquisite taste
displayed in his descriptive poetry, and the total want
of it that was so apparent in his modes of life.
' Fine scenery seemed to have no effect upon him,
though his descriptions are so glowing, and the
elegancies and comforts of refined life Byron appeared
to as little understand as value.'
Byron appeared to be wholly ignorant of what in
his class of life constituted its ordinary luxuries.
* I have seen him,' says Lady Blessington, ' ap-
parently delighted with the luxurious inventions in
furniture, equipages, plate, etc., common to all persons
of a certain station or fortune, and yet after an inquiry
as to their prices^an inquiry so seldom made by
persons of his rank — shrink back alarmed at the
thought of the expense, though there was nothing
alarming in it, and congratulate himself that he had
no such luxuries, or did not require them. I should
say that a bad and vulgar taste predominated in all
Byron's equipments, whether in dress or in furniture.
I saw his bed at Genoa, when I passed through in
1826, and it certainly was the most vulgarly gaudy
thing I ever saw ; the curtains in the worst taste, and
the cornice having his family motto of " Crede Byron "
surmounted by baronial coronets. His carriages and
his liveries were in the same bad taste, having an
affectation of finery, but fnesquin in the details, and
tawdry in the ensemble. It was evident that he piqued
himself on them, by the complacency with which they
were referred to.'
42 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
In one of Byron's expansive moods— and these were
rare with men, though frequent in the society of Lady
Blessington— Byron, speaking of his wife, said :
' I am certain that Lady Byron's first idea is, what
is due to herself; I mean that it is the undeviating
rule of her conduct. I wish she had thought a little
more of what is due to others. Now, my besetting sin
is a want of that self-respect which she has in excess ;
and that want has produced much unhappiness to us
both. But though I accuse Lady Byron of an excess
of self-respect, I must in candour admit, that if any
person ever had an excuse for an extraordinary
portion of it, she has ; as in all her thoughts, words,
and deeds, she is the most decorous woman that ever
existed, and must appear a perfect and refined gentle-
woman even to her femme-de-chamhre. This extra-
ordinary degree of self-command in Lady Byron
produced an opposite eff'ect on me. When I have
broken out, on slight provocations, into one of my
ungovernable fits of rage, her calmness piqued, and
seemed to reproach me ; it gave her an air of superi-
ority, that vexed and increased my wrath. I am now
older and wiser, and should know how to appreciate
her conduct as it deserved, as I look on self-command
as a positive virtue, though it is one I have not the
courage to adopt'
In speaking of his sister, shortly before his de-
parture for Greece, Byron maintained that he owed
the little good which he could boast, to her influence
over his wayward nature. He regretted that he had
not known her earlier, as it might have influenced his
destiny.
* To me she was, in the hour of need, as a tower
of strength. Her affection was my last rallying point,
and is now the only bright spot that the horizon of
England offers to my view.' 'Augusta,' said Byron,
' knew all my weaknesses, but she had love enough to
bear with them. She has given me such good advice,
and yet, finding me incapable of following it, loved
A PROPHECY FULFILLED 43
and pitied me the more, because I was erring. This
is true affection, and, above all, true Christian feeling.'
But we should not be writing about Byron and his
foibles eighty-four years after his death, if he had not
been wholly different to other men in his views of life.
Shortly after his marriage, for no sufficient, or at least
for no apparent reason, Byron chose to immolate him-
self, and took a sort of Tarpeian leap, passing the
remainder of his existence in bemoaning his bruises,
and reviling the spectators who were not responsible
for his fall. One of the main results of this conduct
was his separation from his child, for whom he seems
to have felt the deepest affection. We find him, at the
close of his life, constantly speaking of Ada, * sole
daughter of his heart and house,' and prophesying the
advent of a love whose consolations he could never
feel.
' I often, in imagination, pass over a long lapse of
years,' said Byron, ' and console myself for present
privations, in anticipating the time when my daughter
will know me by reading my works ; for, though the
hand of prejudice may conceal my portrait from her
eyes,* it cannot hereafter conceal my thoughts and
feelings, which will talk to her when he to whom they
belonged has ceased to exist. The triumph will then
be mine ; and the tears that my child will drop over
expressions wrung from me by mental agony — the
certainty that she will enter into the sentiments which
dictated the various allusions to her and to myself in
my works — consoles me in many a gloomy hour.'
This prophecy was amply fulfilled. It appears that,
after Ada's marriage to Lord King, Colonel Wildman
* Lady Noel left by her will to the trustees a portrait of Byron,
with directions that it was not to be shown to his daughter Ada till
she attained the age of twenty-one ; but that if her mother were still
living, it was not to be so delivered without Lady Byron's consent.
44 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
met her in London, and invited her to pay him a visit
at Newstead Abbey. One morning, while Ada was in
the library, Colonel Wildman took down a book of
poems. Ada asked the name of the author of these
poems, and when shown the portrait of her father —
Phillips's well-known portrait — which hung upon the
wall, Ada remained for a moment spell-bound, and then
remarked ingenuously : ' Please do not think that it is
affectation on my part when I declare to you that I
have been brought up in complete ignorance of all
that concerns my father.' Never until that moment
had Ada seen the handwriting of her father, and, as we
know, even his portrait had been hidden from her.
When Byron's genius was revealed to his daughter,
an enthusiasm for his memory filled her soul. She
shut herself up for hours in the rooms which Byron
had used, absorbed in all the glory of one whose
tenderness for her had been so sedulously concealed
by her mother. On her death-bed she dictated a letter
to Colonel Wildman, begging that she might be buried
at Hucknall-Torkard, in the same vault as her illus-
trious father. And there they sleep the long sleep
side by side— separated during life, united in death —
the prophecy of i8r6 fulfilled in 1852 :
' Yet, though dull Hate as duty should be taught,
I know that thou wilt love me ; though my name
Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught
With desolation, and a broken claim :
Though the grave closed between us,— 'twere the same,
I know that thou wilt love me ; though to drain
My blood from out thy being were an aim
And an attainment, — all would be in vain,—
Still thou wouldst love me, still that more than life retain.
CHAPTER V
There is no doubt that Byron had a craving for
celebrity in one form or another. In the last year of
his life his thoughts turned with something like apathy
from the fame which his pen had brought him* towards
that wider and nobler fame which might be attained
by the sword. In the spirit of an exalted poet who
has lately passed from us, if such prescience were
possible, Byron might have applied these stirring lines
to himself:
' Up, then, and act ! Rise up and undertake
The duties of to-day. Thy courage wake !
Spend not Hfe's strength in idleness, for life
Should not be wasted in Care's useless strife.
No slothful doubt let work's place occupy,
But labour ! Labour for posterity !
' Up, then, and sing ! Rise up and bare the sword
With which to combat suffering and wrong.
Console all those that suffer with thy word.
Defend Man's heritage with sword and song !
Combat intrigue, injustice, tyranny,
And in thine efforts God will be with thee.'
' I have made as many sacrifices to liberty,' said
Byron, * as most people of my age ; and the one I am
about to undertake is not the least, though probably
* It was at this time that Byron endeavoured to suppress the fact
that he had written ' The Age of Bronze.'
45
46 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
it will be the last ; for with my broken health, and the
chances of war, Greece will most likely terminate my
career. I like Italy, its climate, its customs, and, above
all, its freedom from cant of every kind ; therefore it is
no slight sacrifice of comfort to give up the tranquil
life I lead here, and break through the ties I have
formed, to engage in a cause, for the successful result
of which I have no very sanguine hopes. I have a
presentiment that I shall die in Greece. I hope it may
be in action, for that would be a good finish to a very
/m^t? existence, and I have a horror of death-bed scenes ;
but as I have not been famous for my luck in life, most
probably I shall not have more in the manner of my
death.'
It was towards the close of May, 1823, that Byron
received a letter telling him that he had been elected
a member of the Committee which sat in London to
further the Greek cause. B^'-ron willingly accepted
the appointment, and from that moment turned his
thoughts towards Greece, without exactly knowing in
what manner he could best serve her cause. He
experienced alternations of confidence and despon-
dency certainly, but he never abandoned the notion
that he might be of use, if only he could see his way
clearly through the conflicting opinions and advice
which reached him from all sides.
The presentiment that he would end his daj^s
in Greece, weighed so heavily on his mind, that
he felt a most intense desire to revisit his native
country before finally throwing in his lot with
the Greeks. He seems to have vaguely felt that
all chances of reconciliation with Lady Byron were
not dead. He would have liked to say farewell to her
without bitterness, and he longed to embrace his child.
But the objections to a return to England were so
formidable that he was compelled to abandon the idea.
BYRON EMBARKS FOR GREECE 47
His proud nature could not face the chance of a cold
reception, and a revival of that roar of calumny which
had driven him from our shores. He told Lady
Blessington that he could laugh at those attacks with
the sea between him and his traducers ; but that on
the spot, and feeling- the effect which each libel pro-
duced upon the minds of his too sensitive friends, he
could not stand the strain. Byron felt sure that his
enemies would misinterpret his motives, and that no
good would come of it.
After Byron had made up his mind to visit Greece
in person, he does not appear ever to have seriousl}''
thought of drawing back. On June 15, 1823, he
informed Trelawny, who was at Rome, that he was
determined to go to Greece, and asked him to join the
expedition. Seven days later Byron had hired a
vessel to transport himself, his companions, his
servants, and his horses, to Cephalonia,
On July 13, Byron, with Edward Trelawny,
Count Pietro Gamba, and a young medical student,*
with eight servants, embarked at Genoa on the English
brig Hercules^ commanded by Captain Scott. At
the last moment a passage was offered to a Greek
named Schilitzy, and to Mr. Hamilton Browne.
Gamba tells us that five horses were shipped, besides
arms, ammunition, and two one-pounder guns which
had belonged to The Bolivar. Byron carried with
him 10,000 Spanish dollars in ready-money, with
bills of exchange for 40,000 more.
Passing within sight of Elba, Corsica, the Lipari
Islands (including Stromboli,) Sicily, Italy, etc., on
August 2, the Hercules lay between Zante and Cepha-
lonia ; and the next day she cast anchor in Argostoli,
* Dr. Bruno.
48 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
the principal port of Cephalonia. The Resident,
Colonel Napier, was at that time absent from the
island. Shortly after Byron's arrival, Captain Kennedy,
Colonel Napier's secretary, came on board, and in-
formed him that little was known of the internal
affairs of Greece. The Turks appeared to have been
in force at sea, while the Greeks remained inactive at
Hydra, Spezia, and Ipsara. It was supposed that
Mr. Blaquiere had gone to Corfu, while the famous
Marco Botzari, to whom Byron had been especially
recommended, was at Missolonghi. Before taking any
definite step, Byron judged it best to send messengers
to Corfu and Missolonghi, to collect information as to
the state of affairs in the Morea. To pass the time,
Byron and some of his companions made an excur-
sion to Ithaca. The first opportunity of showing his
sympathy towards the victims of barbarism and
tyranny occurred at this period. Many poor families
had taken refuge at Ithaca, from Scio, Patras, and
other parts of Greece. Byron handed 3,000 piastres
to the Commandant for their relief, and transported a
family, in absolute poverty, to Cephalonia, where he
provided them with a house and gave them a monthly
allowance.
The following narrative, written by a gentleman
who was travelling in Ithaca at that time, seems to be
worthy of reproduction in these pages :
'It was in the island of Ithaca, in the month of
August, 1823, that I was shown into the dining-room
of the Resident Governor, where Lord Byron, Count
Gamba, Dr. Bruno, Mr. Trelawny, and Mr. Hamilton
Browne, were seated after dinner, with some of the
English officers and principal inhabitants of the place,
I had been informed of Lord Byron's presence, but
had no means of finding him out, except by recollec-
BYRON BECOMES COMMUNICATIVE 49
tion of his portraits ; and I am not ashamed to confess
that I was puzzled, in my examination of the various
countenances before me, where to fix upon "the man."
I at one time almost settled upon Trelawny, from the
interest which he seemed to take in the schooner in
which I had just arrived ; but on ascending to the
drawing-room I was most agreeably undeceived by
finding myself close to the side of the great object
of my curiosity, and engaged in easy conversation
with him, without presentation or introduction of any
kind.
' He was handling and remarking upon the books in
some small open shelves, and fairly spoke to me in
such a manner that not to have replied would have
been boorish. "'Pope's Homer's Odyssey' — hum! —
that is well placed here, undoubtedly ; * Hume's
Essays,' — ' Tales of my Landlord ;' there you are,
Watty! Are you recently from England, sir?" I
answered that I had not been there for two years.
" Then you can bring us no news of the Greek Com-
mittee ? Here we are all waiting orders, and no
orders seem likely to come. Ha! ha!" "I have not
changed my opinion of the Greeks," he said. " I know
them as well as most people" (a favourite phrase),
" but we must not look always too closely at the men
who are to benefit by our exertions in a good cause,
or God knows we shall seldom do much good in this
world. There is Trelawny thinks he has fallen in
with an angel in Prince Mavrocordato, and little
Bruno would willingly sacrifice his life for the cause,
as he calls it. I must say he has shown some sincerity
in his devotion, in consenting to join it for the little
matter he makes of me." I ventured to say that, in
all probability, the being joined with him in any cause
was inducement enough for any man of moderate
pretensions. He noticed the compliment only by an
indifferent smile. " I find but one opinion," he con-
tinued, " among all people whom I have met since I
came here, that no good is to be done for these rascally
Greeks ; that I am sure to be deceived, disgusted, and
all the rest of it. It may be so ; but it is chiefly to
satisfy myself upon these very points that I am going.
I go prepared for anything, expecting a deal of roguery
and imposition, but hoping to do some good."
4
50 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
'"Have you read any of the late publications on
Greece ?" I asked.
* " I never read any accounts of a country to which
I can myself go," said he. " The Committee have sent
me some of their ' Crown and Anchor ' reports, but
I can make nothing of them."
'The conversation continued in the same familiar
flow. To my increased amazement, he led it to his
works, to Lady Byron, and to his daughter. The
former was suggested by a volume of " Childe Harold "
which was on the table ; it was the ugly square little
German edition, and I made free to characterize it as
execrable. He turned over the leaves, and said :
' Yes, it was very bad ; but it was better than one
that he had seen in French prose in Switzerland. " I
know not what my friend Mr. Murray will say to it all.
Kinnaird writes to me that he is wroth about many
things ; let them do what they like with the book —
they have been abusive enough of the author. The
Quarterly is trying to make amends, however, and
Blackwood's people will suffer none to attack me but
themselves. Milman was, 1 believe, at the bottom of
the personalities, but they all sink before an American
reviewer, who describes me as a kind of fiend, and
says that the deformities of my mind are only to be
equalled by those of my body ; it is well that anyone
can see them, at least." Our hostess, Mrs. Knox,
advanced to us about this moment, and his lordship
continued, smiling: " Does not your Gordon blood rise
at such abuse of a clansman ? The gallant Gordons
' bruik nae slight.' Are you true to your name,
Mrs. Knox ?" The lady was loud in her reprobation of
the atrocious abuse that had recently been heaped
upon the noble lord, and joined in his assumed
clannish regard for their mutual name. " Lady Byron
and you would agree," he said, laughing, " though I
could not, you are thinking ; you may say so, I assure
you. I dare say it will turn out that I have been
terribly in the wrong, but I always want to know what
I did.'' I had not courage to touch upon this delicate
topic, and Mrs. Knox seemed to wish it passed over till
a less public occasion. He spoke of Ada exactly as
any parent might have done of a beloved absent child,
and betrayed not the slightest confusion, or conscious-
THE FOUNTAIN OF ARETHUSA 51
ness of a sore subject, throughout the whole conversa-
tion.
' I now learnt from him that he had arrived in the
island from Cephalonia onl}^ that morning, and that it
was his purpose (as it was mine) to visit its antiquities
and localities. A ride to the Fountain of Arethusa
had been planned for the next day, and I had the
happiness of being invited to join it. Pope's " Homer "
was taken up for a description of the place, and it led
to the following remarks :
** Yes, the very best translation that ever was, or
ever will be ; there is nothing like it in the world, be
assured. It is quite delightful to find Pope's character
coming round again ; I forgive Gifford everything for
that. Puritan as he is, he has too much good sense
not to know that, even if all the lies about Pope were
truths, his character is one of the best among literary
men. There is nobody now like him, except Watty,*
and he is as nearly faultless as ever human being
was."
* The remainder of the evening was passed in
arranging the plan of proceeding on the morrow's
excursion, in the course of which his lordship
occasionally interjected a facetious remark of some
general nature ; but in such fascinating tones, and
with such a degree of amiability and familiarity, that,
of all the libels of which I well knew the public press
to be guilty, that of describing Lord Byron as in-
accessible, morose, and repulsive in manner and
language, seemed to me the most false and atrocious.
I found I was to be accommodated for the night
under the same roof with his lordship, and I retired,
satisfied in my own mind that favouring chance had
that day made me the intimate (almost confidential)
friend of the greatest literary man of modern times.
' The next morning, about nine o'clock, the party for
the Fountain of Arethusa assembled in the parlour of
Captain Knox; but Lord Byron was missing. Trelawny,
who had slept in the room adjoining his lordship's,
told us that he feared he had been ill during the night,
but that he had gone out in a boat very early in the
morning. At this moment I happened to be standing
at the window, and saw the object of our anxiety in
* Byron's sobriquet for Walter Scott.
4—2
52 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
the act of landing on the beach, about ten or a dozen
yards from the house, to which he walked slo\yly up.
I never saw and could not conceive the possibility of
such a change in the appearance of a human being as
had taken place since the previous night. He looked
like a man under sentence of death, or returning from
the funeral of all that he held dear on earth. His
person seemed shrunk, his face was pale, and his eyes
languid and fixed on the ground. He was leaning
upon a stick, and had changed his dark camlet-caped
surtout of the preceding evening for a nankeen
jacket embroidered like a hussar's— an attempt at
dandyism, or dash, to which the look and demeanour
of the wearer formed a sad contrast. On entering the
room, his lordship made the usual salutations ; and,
after some preliminary arrangements, the party moved
off, on horses and mules, to the place of destination
for the day.
' I was so struck with the difference of appearance in
Lord Byron that the determination to which I had
come, to try to monopolize him, if possible, to myself,
without regard to appearances or bienseance, almost
entirely gave way under the terror of a freezing
repulse. I advanced to him under the influence of
this feeling, but I had scarcely received his answer
when all uneasiness about my reception vanished, and
I stuck as close to him as the road permitted our
animals to go. His voice sounded timidly and quiver-
ingly at first ; but as the conversation proceeded,
it became steady and firm. The beautiful country
in which we were travelling naturally formed a
prominent topic, as well as the character of the
people and of the Government. Of the latter, I found
him (to my amazement) an admirer. "There is a deal
of fine stuff about that old Maitland," he said; "he
knows the Greeks well. Do you know if it be true
that he ordered one of their brigs to be blown out of
the water if she stayed ten minutes longer in Corfu
Roads ?" I happened to know, and told him that it
was true. " Well, of all follies, that of daring to say
what one cannot dare to do is the least to be pitied.
Do you think Sir Tom would have really executed
his threat ?" I told his lordship that I believed he
certainly would, and that this knowledge of his being
AUTHORSHIP OF 'WAVERLEY NOVELS' 53
in earnest in everything he said was the cause, not
only of the quiet termination of that affair, but of the
order and subordination in the whole of the countries
under his government.
* The conversation again insensibly reverted to Sir
Walter Scott, and Lord Byron repeated to me the
anecdote of the interview in Murray's shop, as con-
clusive evidence of his being the author of the
** Waverley Novels." He was a little but not durably
staggered by the equally well-known anecdote of Sir
Walter having, with some solemnity, denied the
authorship to Mr. Wilson Croker, in the presence of
George IV., the Duke of York, and the late Lord
Canterbury. He agreed that an author wishing to
conceal his authorship had a right to give any answer
whatever that succeeded in convincing an inquirer that
he was wrong in his suppositions.
* When we came within sight of the object of our
excursion, there happened to be an old shepherd in
the act of coming down from the fountain. His lord-
ship at once fixed upon him for Eumseus, and invited
him back with us to "fill up the picture." Having
drunk of the fountain, and eaten of our less classical
repast of cold fowls, etc., his lordship again became
lively, and full of pleasant conceits. To detail the
conversation (which was general and varied as the
individuals that partook of it) is now impossible, and
certainly not desirable if it were possible. I wish to
observe, however, that on this and one very similar
occasion, it was very unlike the kind of conversation
which Lord Byron is described as holding with various
individuals who have written about him. Still more
unlike was it to what one would have supposed his
conversation to be ; it was exactly that of nine-tenths
of the cultivated class of English gentlemen, careless
and unconscious of everything but the present moment.
Lord Byron ceased to be more than one of the party,
and stood some sharp jokes, practical and verbal, with
more good nature than would have done many of the
ciphers whom one is doomed to tolerate in society.
' We returned as we went, but no opportunity pre-
sented itself of introducing any subject of interest
beyond that of the place and time. His lordship
seemed quite restored by the excursion, and in the
54 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
evening came to the Resident's, bearing himself
towards everybody in the same easy, gentlemanly
way that rendered him the delight and ornament of
every society in which he chose to unbend himself
'The Resident was as absolute a monarch as Ulysses,
and I dare say much more hospitable and obliging.
He found quarters for the whole Anglo-Italian party,
in the best houses of the town, and received them on
the following morning at the most luxurious of break-
fasts, consisting, among other native productions, of
fresh-gathered grapes, just ripened, but which were
pronounced of some danger to be eaten, as not having
had the " first rain." This is worthy of note, as having
been apparently a ground of their being taken by Lord
Byron in preference to the riper and safer figs and
nectarines ; but he deemed it a fair reason for an
apology to the worthy doctor of the 8th Regiment
(Dr. Scott), who had cautioned the company against
the fruit.
'" I take them, doctor," said his lordship, " as I take
other prohibited things — in order to accustom myself
to any and all things that a man may be compelled to
take where I am going — in the same way that I abstain
from all superfluities, even salt to my eggs or butter
to my bread ; and I take tea, Mrs. Knox, without sugar
or cream. But tea itself is, really, the most super-
fluous of superfluities, though I am never without it."
* I heard these observations as they were made to
Dr. Scott, next to whom I was sitting, towards the end
of the table; but I could not hear the animated con-
versation that was going on between his lordship
and Mrs. Knox, beyond the occasional mention of
" Penelope," and, when one of her children came in to
her, " Telemachus "—names too obviously a propos of
the place and persons to be omitted in any incidental
conversation in Ithaca.
•The excursion to the "School of Homer" (why so
called nobody seemed to know) was to be made by
water; and the party of the preceding day, except the
lady, embarked in an elegant country boat with four
rowers, and sundry packages and jars of eatables and
drmkables. As soon as we were seated under the
awnmg— Lord Byron in the centre seat, with his face
to the stern— Trelawny took charge of the tiller. The
DAVID HUME'S ESSAYS 55
other passengers being seated on the side, the usual
small ilying general conversation began. Lord Byron
seemed in a mood calculated to make the company
think he meant something more formal than ordinary
talk. Of course there could not be anything said in
the nature of a dialogue, which, to be honest, was the
kind of conversation that I had at heart. He began
by informing us that he had just been reading, with
renewed pleasure, David Hume's Essays. He con-
sidered Hume to be by far the most profound thinker
and clearest reasoner of the many philosophers and
metaphysicians of the last century. " There is," said
he, "no refuting him, and for simplicity and clearness
of style he is unmatched, and is utterly unanswer-
able." He referred particularly to the Essay on
Miracles. It was remarked to him, that it had
nevertheless been specifically answered, and, some
people thought, refuted, by a Presbyterian divine,
Dr. Campbell of Aberdeen. I could not hear whether
his lordship knew of the author, but the remark did
not affect his opinion ; it merely turned the conversa-
tion to Aberdeen and "poor John Scott," the most
promising and most unfortunate literary man of the
day, whom he knew well, and who, said he, knew him
(Lord Byron) as a schoolboy. Scotland, Walter Scott
(or, as his lordship always called him, "Watty"), the
" Waverley Novels," the " Rejected Addresses," and
the English aristocracy (which he reviled most bitterly),
were the prominent objects of nearly an hour's con-
versation. It was varied, towards the end of the
voyage, in this original fashion : " But come, gentle-
men, we must have some inspiration. Here, Tita,
I'Hippocrena !"
'This brought from the bows of the boat a huge
Venetian gondolier, with a musket slung diagonally
across his back, a stone jar of two gallons of what
turned out to be English gin, another porous one of
water, and a quart pitcher, into which the gondolier
poured the spirit, and laid the whole, with two or three
large tumblers, at the feet of his expectant lord, who
quickly uncorked the jar, and began to pour its contents
into the smaller vessel.
' " Now, gentlemen, drink deep, or taste not the
Pierian spring ; it is the true poetic source. I'm
56 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
a rogue if I have drunk to-day. Come" (handing
tumblers round to us), "this is the way;" and he
nearly half filled a tumbler, and then poured from the
height of his arm out of the water-jar, till the tumbler
sparkled in the sun like soda-water, and drunk it
off while effervescing, glorious gin-swizzle, a most
tempting beverage, of which everyone on board took
his share, munching after it a biscuit out of a huge
tin case of them. This certainly exhilarated us, till
we landed within some fifty or sixty yards of the
house to which we were directed.
*0n our way we learned that the Regent of the
island — that is, the native Governor, as Captain Knox
was the protecting Power's Governor (Viceroy over
the King!) — had forwarded the materials of a sub-
stantial feast to the occupant (his brother); for the
nobili Inglesi, who were to honour his premises. In
mentioning this act of the Regent to Lord Byron, his
remark was a repetition of the satirical line in the
imitation address of the poet Fitzgerald, " God bless
the Regent !" and as I mentioned the relationship to
our approaching host, he added, with a laugh, "and
the Duke of York !"
* On entering the mansion, we were received by the
whole family, commencing with the mother of the
Princes — a venerable lady of at least seventy, dressed
in pure Greek costume, to whom Lord Byron went up
with some formality, and, with a slight bend of the
knee, took her hand, and kissed it reverently. We
then moved into the adjoining sala, or saloon, where
there was a profusion of English comestibles, in the
shape of cold sirloin of beef, fowls, ham, etc., to which
we did such honour as a sea appetite generally
produces. It was rather distressing that not one of
the entertainers touched any of these luxuries, it being
the Greek Second or Panagia Lent, but fed entirely on
some cold fish fried in oil, and green salad, of which
last Lord Byron, in adherence to his rule of accustom-
ing himself to eat anything eatable, partook, though
with an obvious effort— as well as of the various wines
that were on the table, particularly Ithaca, which is
exactly port as made and drunk in the country of its
growth.
' I was not antiquary enough to know to what object
THE RETURN TO VATHI 57
of antiquity our visit was made, but I saw Lord 63^011
in earnest conversation with a very antique old Greek
monk in full clerical habit. He was a Bishop, sitting
on a stone of the ruined wall close by, and he turned
out to be the Esprit fort mentioned in a note at the end
of the second canto of ** Childe Harold " — a freethinker,
at least a freespeaker, when he called the sacrifice of
the Maso una Coglioncria.
' When we embarked on our return to Vathi, Lord
Byron seemed moody and sullen, but brightened up
as he saw a ripple on the water, a mast and sail raised
in the cutter, and Trelawny seated in the stern with
the tiller in hand. In a few minutes we were scudding,
gunwale under, in a position infinitely more beautiful
than agreeable to landsmen, and Lord Byron obviously
enjoying the not improbable idea of a swim for life.
His motions, as he sat, tended to increase the impulse
of the breeze, and tended also to sway the boat to
leeward. " I don't know," he said, *' if you all swim,
gentlemen ; but if 3^ou do, you will have fifty fathoms
of blue water to support you ; and if you do not, you will
have it over you. But as you may not all be prepared,
starboard, Trelawny — bring her up. There ! she is
trim ; and now let us have a glass of grog after the
gale. Tita^ i fiaschi T This was followed by a repro-
duction of the gin-and-water jars, and a round of the
immortal swizzle. To my very great surprise, it was
new to the company that the liquor which they were
enjoying was the product of Scotland, in the shape of
what is called "low-wines," or semi-distilled whisky
— chiefly from the distillery of mine ancient friend,
James Haig of Lochrin; but the communication seemed
to gratify the noble drinker, and led to the recitation
by one of the company, in pure lowland Scotch, of
Burns's Petition to the House of Commons in behalf of
the national liquor. The last stanza, beginning
* " Scotland, my aulcl respeckit mither,"
very much pleased Lord Byron, who said that he too
was more than half a Scotchman.
' The conversation again turned on the " Waverley
Novels," and on this occasion Lord Byron spoke of
" The Bride of Lammermoor," and cited the passage
where the mother of the cooper's wife tells her
58 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
husband (the cooper) that she " kent naething aboot
what he might do to his wife ; but the deil a finger
shall ye lay on my dochter, and that ye may foond
upony Shortly afterwards, the conversation having
turned upon poetry, his lordship mentioned the famous
ode on the death of Sir John Moore as the finest piece
of poetry in any language. He recited some lines of
it. One of the company, with more presumption than
wisdom, took him up, as his memory seemed to lag,
by filling in the line :
' " And he looked like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloaiv around him."
' Lord Byron, with a look at the interloper that spoke
as if death were in it, and no death was sufficiently
cruel for him, shouted, " He lay — he lay like a
warrior, not he looked." The pretender was struck
dumb, but, with reference to his lordship's laudation
of the piece, he ventured half to whisper that the
" Gladiator " was superior to it, as it is to any poetical
picture ever painted in words. The reply was a
benign look, and a flattering recognition, by a little
applausive tapping of his tobacco-box on the board on
which he sat.
' On arriving at Vathi, we repaired to our several
rooms in the worthy citizens' houses where w^e were
billeted, to read and meditate, and write and converse,
as we might meet, indoors or out ; and much profound
lucubration took place among us, on the characteristics
and disposition of the very eminent personage with
whom we were for the time associated. Dr. Scott, the
assistant-surgeon of the 8th Foot, who had heard of,
though he may not have witnessed, any of the pecu-
liarities of the great poet, accounted for them, and
even for the sublimities of his poetry, by an abnormal
construction or chronic derangement of the digestive
organs — a theory which experience and observation of
other people than poets afford many reasons to
support :
' " Is it not strange now — ten times strange — to think,
And is it not enough one's faith to shatter,
That right or wrong direction of a drink,
A plus or mimis of a yellow matter,
CONTRADICTORY ACCOUNTS OF BYRON 59
One half the world should elevate or sink
To bliss or woe (most commonly the latter) —
That human happiness is well-formed chj^le,
And human misery redundant bile !"
' The next morning the accounts we heard of Lord
Byron were contradictory : Trelawny, who slept in
the next room to him, stating- that he had been writing
the greater part of the night, and he alleged it was the
sixteenth canto of " Don Juan "; and Dr. Bruno, who
visited him at intervals, and was many hours in
personal attendance at his bedside, asserting that he
had been seriously ill, and had been saved only by
those benedette pillule which so often had had that
effect. His lordship again appeared rowing in from
his bath at the Lazzaretto, a course of proceeding
(bathing and boating) which caused Dr. Bruno to
wring his hands and tear his hair with alarm and
vexation.
' It was, however, the day fixed for our return to
Cephalonia, and, having gladly assented to the propo-
sition to join the suite, we all mounted ponies to cross
the island to a small harbour on the south side, where
a boat was waiting to bear us to Santa Eufemia, a
Custom-house station on the coast of Cephalonia, about
half an hour's passage from Ithaca, which we accord-
ingly passed, and arrived at the collector's mansion
about two o'clock.
' During the journey across the smaller island, I made
a bold push, and succeeded in securing, with my small
pony, the side-berth of Lord Byron's large brown
steed, and held by him in the narrow path, to the
exclusion of companions better entitled to the post.
His conversation was not merely free — it was familiar
and intimate, as if we were schoolboys meeting after
a long separation. I happened to be " up " in the
"Waverley Novels," had seen several letters of Sir
Walter Scott's about his pedigree for his baronetage,
could repeat almost every one of the ** Rejected
Addresses," and knew something of the London
Magazine contributors, who were then in the zenith
of their reputation — Hazlitt, Charles Lamb, Talfourd,
Browning, Allan Cunningham, Reynolds, Darley, etc.
But his lordship pointed at the higher game of
6o BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
Southey, Gifford (whom he all but worshipped),
Jeffrey of the Edinburgh Review, John Wilson, and
other Blackwoodites. He said they were all infidels,
as every man has a right to be ; that Edinburgh was
understood to be the seat of all infidelity, and he men-
tioned names (Dr. Chalmers and Andrew Thomson,
for examples) among the clergy as being of the
categor}^ This I never could admit. He was par-
ticularly bitter against Southey, sneered at Words-
worth, admired Thomas Campbell, classing his " Battle
of the Baltic" with the very highest of lyric produc-
tions. "Nothing finer," he said, "was ever written
than —
' " There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath
For a time."
' We arrived at one of the beautiful bays that encircle
the island, like a wavy wreath of silver sand studded
with gold and emerald in a field of hquid pearl, and
embarked in the collector's boat for the opposite shore
of Santa Eufemia, where, on arrival, we were received
by its courteous chief, Mr. Toole, in a sort of state —
with his whole establishment, French and English,
uncovered and bowing. He had had notice of the
illustrious poet's expected arrival, and had prepared
one of the usual luxurious feasts in his honour — feasts
which Lord Byron said " pla3'^ed the devil " with him,
for he could not abstain when good eating was within
his reach. The apartment assigned to us was small,
and the table could not accommodate the whole party.
There were, accordingly, small side or " children's
tables," for such guests as might choose to be willing
to take seats at them. "Ha!" said Lord Byron,
" England all over — places for Tommy and Billy, and
Lizzie and Molly, if there were any. Mr. "
(addressing me), " will you be my Tommy ?" — point-
ing to the two vacant seats at a small side-table, close
to the chair of our host. Down I sat, delighted,
opposite to my companion, and had a tete-a-tete dinner
apart from the head-table, from which, as usual, we
were profusely helped to the most recherche portions.
" Verily," said his lordship, " I cannot abstain." His
conversation, however, was directed chiefly to his
MONASTERY ON THE HILL OF SAMOS 6i
host, from whom he received much local information,
and had his admiration of Sir Thomas Maitland in-
creased by some particulars of his system of govern-
ment. There were no vacant apartments within the
station, but we learned that quarters had been provided
for us at a monastery on the hill of Samos, across the
bay. Thither we were all transported at twilight, and
ascended to the large venerable abode of some dozen
of friars, who were prepared for our arrival and
accommodation. Outside the walls of the building
there were some open sarcophagi and some pieces of
carved frieze and fragments of pottery.
' I walked with his lordship and Count Gamba to
examine them, speculating philosophically on their
quondam contents. Something to our surprise. Lord
Byron clambered over into the deepest, and lay in the
bottom at full length on his back, muttering some
English lines. I may have been wrong, or idly and
unjustifiably curious, but I leaned over to hear what
the lines might be. I found they were unconnected
fragments of the scene in " Hamlet," where he moralizes
with Horatio on the skull :
' " Imperious Cassar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away ;
O, that that earth, which held the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw !"
* As he sprang out and rejoined us, he said :
" Hamlet, as a whole, is original ; but I do not admire
him to the extent of the common opinion. More than
all, he requires the very best acting. Kean did not
understand the part, and one could not look at him
after having seen John Kemble, whose squeaking
voice was lost in his noble carriage and thorough
right conception of the character. Rogers told me
that Kemble used to be almost always hissed in the
beginning of his career. * The best actor on the
stage,' he said, ' is Charles Young, His Pierre was
never equalled, and never will be.' " Amid such flying
desultory conversation we entered the monastery, and
took coffee for lack of anything else, while our
servants were preparing our beds. Lord Byron
retired almost immediately from the sala. Shortly
62 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
afterwards we were astonished and alarmed by the
entry of Dr. Bruno, wringing his hands and tearing
his hair— a practice much too frequent with him — and
ejaculating : " O Maria, santissima Maria, se non e gia
morto—cielo, percJie non son morto to /" It appeared
that Lord Byron was seized with violent spasms in
the stomach and liver, and his brain was excited to
dangerous excess, so that he would not tolerate the
presence of any person in his room. He refused all
medicine, and stamped and tore all his clothes and
bedding like a maniac. We could hear him rattling
and ejaculating. Poor Dr. Bruno stood lamenting in
agony of mind, in anticipation of the most dire results
if immediate relief were not obtained by powerful
cathartics, but Lord Byron had expelled him from the
room by main force. He now implored one or more
of the company to go to his lordship and induce him,
if possible, to save his life by taking the necessary
medicine. Trelawny at once proceeded to the room,
but soon returned, saying that it would require ten
such as he to hold his lordship for a minute, adding
that Lord Byron would not leave an unbroken article
in the room. The doctor again essayed an entrance,
but without success. The monks were becoming
alarmed, and so, in truth, were all present. The
doctor asked me to try to bring his lordship to
reason; " he will thank you when he is well," he said,
" but get him to take this one pill, and he will be safe."
It seemed a very easy undertaking, and I went.
There being no lock on the door, entry was obtained
in spite of a barricade of chairs and a table within.
His lordship was half undressed, standing in a far
corner like a hunted animal at bay. As I looked
determined to advance in spite of his imprecations of
"Back! out, out of my sight! fiends, can I have no
peace, no relief from this hell ! Leave me, I say !" and
he lifted the chair nearest to him, and hurled it
direct at my head ; I escaped as I best could, and
returned to the sala. The matter was obviously
serious, and we all counselled force and such coercive
measures as might be necessary to make him swallow
the curative medicine. Mr. Hamilton Browne, one of
our party, now volunteered an attempt, and the silence
that succeeded his entrance augured well for his
OVER THE BLACK MOUNTAIN 63
success. He returned much sooner than expected,
telling the doctor that he might go to sleep ; Lord
Byron had taken both the pills, and had lain down on
my mattress and bedding, prepared for him by my
servant, the only regular bed in the company, the
others being trunks and portable tressels, with such
softening as might be procured for the occasion.
Lord Byron's beautiful and most commodious patent
portmanteau bed, with every appliance that profusion
of money could provide, was mine for the night.
* On the following morning Lord Byron was all
dejection and penitence, not expressed in words, but
amply in looks and movements, till something tend-
ing to the jocular occurred to enliven him and us.
Wandering from room to room, from porch to balcony,
it so happened that Lord Byron stumbled upon their
occupants in the act of writing accounts, journals,
private letters, or memoranda. He thus came upon
me on an outer roof of a part of the building, while
writing, as far as I recollect, these very notes of his
conversation and conduct. What occurred, however,
was not of much consequence — or none — and turned
upon the fact that so many people were writing, when
he, the great voluminous writer, so supposed, was
not writing at all. The journey of the day was to be
over the Black Mountain to Argostoli, the capital of
Cephalonia. We set out about noon, struggling as
we best could over moor, marsh ground, and watery
wastes. Lord Byron revived ; and, lively on horse-
back, sang, at the pitch of his voice, many of Moore's
melodies and stray snatches of popular songs of the
time in the common style of the streets. There was
nothing remarkable in the conversation. On arrival
at Argostoli, the party separated — Lord Byron and
Trelawny to the brig of the former, lying in the offing,
the rest to their several quarters in the town.'
CHAPTER VI
After an absence of eight days the party returned to
Argostoli, and went on board the Hercules. The
messenger whom Byron had sent to Corfu brought
the unwelcome intelh'gence that Mr. Blaquiere had
sailed for England, without leaving any letters for
Byron's guidance. News also reached him that the
Greeks were split up into factions, and more intent
on persecuting and calumniating each other than on
securing the independence of their country. This
was depressing news for a man who had sacrificed so
much, and would have damped the enthusiasm of
most people in Byron's position ; but it neither
deceived nor disheartened him. He was, and had
always been, prepared for the worst. He made up
his mind not to enter personally into the arena of con-
tending factions, but to await further developments at
Cephalonia, hoping to acquire an influence which
might eventually be employed in settling their internal
discords. As he himself remarked, ' I came not here
to join a faction, but a nation. I must be circumspect.'
Trelawny, in his valuable record of events at this time,
is hard on Byron. He mistook Byron's motives, and
thought that he was 'shilly-shallying and doing
nothing.' But Trelawny, though mistaken, was
sincere. He was in every sense of the word a man of
64
BYRON MOVES TO METAXATA 65
action, and full of a wild enthusiasm for the Greek
cause. It was not in his nature to await events, but
rather to create them, and Byron's wise decision made
him restive. He determined to proceed to the Morea,
and induced Hamilton Browne to go with him. Byron
gave them letters to the Greek Government, if they
could find any such authority, expressing his readiness
to serve them when they had satisfied him how he
could do so.
Gamba takes a calmer view of Byron's hesitation.
He says that Byron well knew that prudence had
never been in the catalogue of his virtues ; that he
knew the necessity of such a virtue in his present
situation, and was determined to attain it. He care-
fully avoided every appearance of ostentation, and
dreaded being suspected of being a mere hunter after
adventures.
' By perseverance and discernment,' says Gamba,
' Byron hoped to assist in the liberation of Greece. To
know and to be known was consequently, from the
outset, his principal object.'
How far he succeeded we shall see later. From
the time of B3'-ron's arrival at Argostoli until Septem-
ber 6 he lived on board the Hercules. Colonel Napier
had frequently begged him to take up his quarters
with him, but Byron declined the hospitality; mainly
because he feared that he might thereby embroil
the British authorities on the island with their own
Government, whose dispositions were yet unknown.
Early in September Byron removed with Gamba to
a village named Metaxata, in a healthy situation and
amidst magnificent scenery. A month later letters
arrived from Edward Trelawny, saying that things
were not so bad as had been reported. It was evident
5
66 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
that great apathy and total disorganization prevailed
among those who had got the upper hand, but that
the mass of the people— well disposed towards the
revolution— was beginning to take an interest in
the war. A general determination of never again
submitting to the Turkish yoke had taken deep root.
The existing Greek Government sent pressing letters
to Byron inviting him to set out immediately, but
Byron still thought it wiser not to move; for the
reasons which had governed his conduct hitherto still
prevailed. He was determined neither to waste his
services nor his money on furthering the greed of
some particular chieftain, or at best of some faction.
Letters arrived from the Greek Committee in London,
informing Byron that arrangements had been made
for the floating of a Greek loan. Meanwhile Mavro-
cordato wrote to Byron from Hydra, whither he had
fled, inviting him to that island. Lord Byron replied
that so long as the dissensions between the factions
continued he would remain a mere spectator, as he
was resolved not to be mixed up in quarrels whose
effects were so disastrous to the cause. He at the
same time begged Mavrocordato to expedite the de-
parture of the fleet, and to send the Greek deputies
to London. The Turkish fleet meanwhile had sailed
for the Dardanelles, leaving a squadron of fourteen
vessels for the blockade of Missolonghi, and for the
protection of a fortress in the gulf, which was still in
the hands of the Turks.
The gallant Marco Botzari had been killed in action,
and Missolonghi was in a state of siege. Its Governor
wrote and implored Byron to come there ; but as the
place was in no danger, either from famine or from
assault, he declined the proposal.
DEPARTURE OF THE GREEK DEPUTIES 67
In the middle of November, 1823, Mr. Hamilton
Browne and the deputies arrived at Cephalonia.
They brought letters from the Greek Government
asking Byron to advance £<S,qoo (30,000 dollars) for
the payment of the Greek fleet An assurance was
offered by the legislative body that, upon payment of
this money, a Greek squadron would immediately put
to sea. Byron consented to advance ;^4,ooo, and gave
the deputies letters for London. In allusion to the
loan about to be raised in England, he thus addressed
them :
' Everyone believes that a loan will be the salvation
of Greece, both as to its internal disunion and external
enemies. But I shall refrain from insisting much on
this point, for fear that I should be suspected of
interested views, and of wishing to repay myself the
loan of money which I have advanced to your Govern-
ment'
On December 17, 1823, while Byron was at Metaxata,
awaiting definite information as to the progress of
events, he resumed his journal, which had been
abruptly discontinued in consequence of news having
reached him that his daughter was ill.
' I know not,' he wrote, * why I resume it even now,
except that, standing at the window of my apartment
in this beautiful village, the calm though cool serenity
of a beautiful and transparent moonlight, showing
the islands, the mountains, the sea, with a distant out-
line of the Morea traced between the double azure
of the waves and skies, has quieted me enough to be
able to write, which (however difficult it may seem for
one who has written so much publicly to refrain) is,
and always has been, to me a task, and a painful one.
I could summon testimonies were it necessary ; but
my handwriting is sufficient. It is that of one who
thinks much, rapidly, perhaps deeply, but rarely with
pleasure.'
5—2
68 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
The Greeks were still quarrelling among themselves,
and Byron almost despaired of being able to unite the
factions in one common interest. Mavrocordato and
the squadron from Hydra, for whose coming Byron had
bargained when he advanced i;4,ooo» had at length
arrived after the inglorious capture of a small Turkish
vessel with 50,000 dollars on board. This prize having
been captured within the bounds of neutrality, on the
coast of Ithaca, Byron naturally foresaw that it would
bring the Greeks into trouble with the British author-
ities. Meanwhile, news from London confirmed the
accounts of an increasing interest in the Greek cause,
and gave good promise of a successful floating of the
loan.
In the middle of November Colonel Leicester Stan-
hope arrived at Cephalonia. He had been deputed by
the London Committee to act with Lord Byron.
News also came from Greece that the Pasha of
Scutari had abandoned Anatolico, and that the Turkish
army had been put to flight. But the Greek factions,
whose jealous dissensions promised to wreck the
cause of Greek independence, had come to blows in
the Morea.
As Byron had been recognized as a representative of
the English and German Committees interested in the
Greek cause, he was advised to write a public remon-
strance to the general Government of Greece, pointing
out that their dissensions would be fatal to the cause
which it was presumed they all had at heart. Byron
disliked to take so prominent a step, but he was
eventually persuaded that such a letter might do a
great deal of good. Gamba cites the following extract
from Byron's appeal to the executive and legislative
bodies of the Greek nation :
A REMONSTRANCE 69
' Cephalonia,
' November 20, 1823.
' The affair of the loan, the expectation so long and
vainly indulged of the arrival of the Greek fleet, and
the danger to which Missolonghi is still exposed, have
detained me here, and vv^ill still detain me till some of
them are removed. But when the money shall be
advanced for the fleet, I will start for the Morea, not
knowing, however, of what use my presence can be in the
present state of things. We have heard some rumours
of new dissensions — nay, of the existence of a civil war.
With all my heart, I pray 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 established, all hopes
of a loan will be vain. All the assistance which the
Greeks could expect from abroad — an assistance
neither trifling nor worthless — will be suspended or
destroyed. And, what is worse, the Great Powers of
Europe, of whom no one is an enemy to Greece,
but seems to favour her establishment of an independent
power, will be persuaded that the Greeks are unable to
govern themselves, and will, perhaps, themselves
undertake to settle your disorders in such a way
as to blast the hopes of yourselves and of your friends.
' And allow me to add once for all — I desire the well-
being of Greece, and nothing else, I will do all 1 can
to secure it. But I cannot consent, I never will
consent, that the English public or English indi-
viduals should be deceived as to the real state of
Greek affairs. The rest, gentlemen, depends on you.
You have fought gloriously ; act honourably towards
your fellow-citizens and towards the world. Then it
will no more be said, as it has been said for two
thousand years, with the Roman historian, that Philo-
poemen was the last of the Grecians. Let not calumny
itself (and it is difficult, I own, to guard against it in so
arduous a struggle) compare the patriot Greek, when
resting from his labours, to the Turkish Pacha, whom
his victories have exterminated.
* I pray you to accept these my sentiments as a
sincere proof of my attachment to your real interests ;
and to believe that I am, and always shall be,
' Your, etc.,
' Noel Byron.'
70 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
Byron at the same time wrote to Prince Mavrocor-
dato, and sent the letter by Colonel Leicester Stanhope.
He tells the Prince that he is very uneasy at the news
about the dissensions among the Greek chieftains, and
warns him that Greece must prepare herself for three
alternatives. She must either reconquer her liberty
by united action, or become a Dependence of the
Sovereigns of Europe ; or, failing in either direction,
she would revert to her position as a mere province of
Turkey. There was no other choice open to her.
Civil war was nothing short of ruin.
* If Greece desires the fate of Walachia and the
Crimea,' says Byron, ' she may obtain it to-morrow ; if
that of Italy, the day after ; but if she wishes to
become truly Greece, free and independent, she must
resolve to-day, or she will never again have the
opportunity.'
Byron, in his journal dated December 17, 1823, says:
' The Turks have retired from before Missolonghi —
nobody knows why — since they left provisions and
ammunition behind them in quantities, and the garri-
son made no sallies, or none to any purpose. They
never invested Missolonghi this year, but bombarded
Anatoliko, near the Achelous.'
Finlay, in his 'History of Greece,' states that the
Turks made no effort to capture the place, and after a
harmless bombardment the siege was raised, and the
Turkish forces retired into Epirus.
The following extract from a letter, which Byron
wrote to his sister* conveys an unimpeachable record
of his feelings and motives in coming to Greece :
You ask me why I came up amongst the Greeks.
It was stated to me that my doing so might tend to
* ' Letters and Journals of Lord Byron,' edited by Rowland
Prothero, vol. vi., p. 259.
BYRON'S LETTER TO HIS SISTER n
their advantage in some measure, in their present
struggle for independence, both as an individual and
as a member for the Committee now in England.
How far this may be realized I cannot pretend to
anticipate, but I am willing to do what I can. They
have at length found leisure to quarrel amongst them-
selves, after repelling their other enemies, and it is
no very easy part that I may have to play to avoid
appearing partial to one or other of their factions. . . .
I have written to their Government at Tripolizza and
Salamis, and am waiting for instructions where to
proceed, for things are in such a state amongst them,
that it is difficult to conjecture where one could be
useful to them, if at all. However, I have some hopes
that they will see their own interest sufficiently not to
quarrel till they have received their national indepen-
dence, and then they can fight it out among them in a
domestic manner — and welcome. You may suppose
that I have something to think of at least, for you can
have no idea what an intriguing, cunning, unquiet
generation they are ; and as emissaries of all parties
come to me at present, and I must act impartially, it
makes me exclaim, as Julian did at his military exer-
cises, "Oh ! Plato, what a task for a Philosopher!'"
CHAPTER VII
It was during the time that Byron was in the neigh-
bourhood of Cephalonia that Dr. Kennedy, a Scottish
medical man, methodistically inclined, undertook the
so-called ' conversion ' of the poet. Gamba tells us
that their disputes on religious matters sometimes
lasted five or six hours. * The Bible was so familiar
to Byron that he frequently corrected the citations of
the theological doctor.'
Byron, in the letter from which we have quoted,
says :
'There is a clever but eccentric man here, a
Dr. Kennedy, who is very pious and tries in good
earnest to make converts ; but his Christianity is a
queer one, for he says that the priesthood of the
Church of England are no more Christians than
" Mahound or Termagant " are. ... I like what I
have seen of him. He says that the dozen shocks of
an earthquake we had the other day are a sign of his
doctrine, or a judgment on his audience, but this
opinion has not acquired proselytes.'
As disputants, Byron and Kennedy stood far as the
poles asunder. The former, while beheving firmly in
the existence and supreme attributes of God, doubted,
but never denied, manifestations that could not be
tested or demonstrated by positive proof. The latter,
through blind unquestioning faith, believed in every-
thing which an inspired Bible had revealed to man^-
72
BYRON AND DR. KENNEDY n
kind. Thus both were believers up to a certain point,
and both were equally well-meaning and sincere. The
intensity of their faith had its limitations. They did
not agree, and never could have agreed, in their views
of religion. They moved on parallel lines that might
have been extended indefinitely, but could never meet.
Kennedy discouraged the unlimited use of reason, and
preferred an absolute reliance on the traditional teach-
ing of his Church. To Byron the exercise of reason
was an absolute necessity. He would not admit that
God had given us minds, and had denied us the right
to use them intelligently ; or that the Almighty desired
us to sacrifice reason to faith, ' It is useless,' said
Byron, 'to tell me that I am to believe, and not to
reason ; you might as well say to a man : " Wake not,
but sleep." ' While Byron profoundly disbelieved in
eternal punishments, Kennedy would have mankind
kept straight by fear of them. Kennedy, though
versed in the Bible, was, as events proved, hardly a
match for Byron.
Hodgson, an old friend of Byron's, has left a record
that a Bible presented to him ' by that better angel of
his life,' his beloved sister, was among the books which
Byron always kept near him. The following lines,
taken from Scott, were inserted by Byron on the
fly-leaf :
* Within this awful volume lies
The Mystery of Mysteries.
Oh ! happiest they of human race
To whom our God has given grace
To hear, to read, to fear, to pray,
To lift the latch, and force the way ;
But better had he ne'er been born
Who reads to doubt, or reads to scorn !'*
* * Memoir of Rev. F. Hodgson,' vol. ii., p. 150.
74 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
During the discussions which took place, Kennedy
was forced to admit that Byron was well versed in
the Bible ; but he maintained that prayer was neces-
sary in order to understand its message. Byron said
that, in his opinion, prayer does not consist in the act
of kneeling, or of repeating certain words in a solemn
manner, as devotion is the affection of the heart.
* When I look at the marvels of the creation,' said
he, * I bow before the Majesty of Heaven ; and when
I experience the delights of life, health, and happiness,
then my heart dilates in gratitude towards God for all
His blessings.'
Kennedy maintained that this was not sufficient; it
must be an earnest supplication for grace and humility.
In Kennedy's opinion Byron had not sufficient humility
to understand the truths of the Gospel. At this time,
certainly, Byron was not prepared to believe implicitly
in the Divinity of Christ. He lacked the necessary
faith to do so, but he did not reject the doctrine.
* I have not the slightest desire,' he said, ' to reject
a doctrine without having investigated it. Quite the
contrary ; I wish to believe, because I feel extremely
unhappy in a state of uncertainty as to what I am to
believe.'
He wanted proofs — as so many others have before
and since — and without it conviction was impossible.
' Byron,' said Countess Guiccioli, 'would never have
contested absolutely the truth of any mystery, but
have merely stated that, so long as the testimony of
its truth was hidden in obscurity, such a mystery must
be liable to be questioned.'
Byron had been brought up by his mother in very
strict religious principles, and in his youth had read
many theological works. He told Dr. Kennedy that
CONVERSATIONS ON RELIGION 75
he was in no sense an unbeliever who denied the
Scriptures, or was content to grope in atheism,
but, on the contrary, that it was his earnest wish to
increase his belief, as half- convictions made him
wretched. He declared that, with the best will in
the world, he could not understand the Scriptures.
Kennedy, on the other hand, took the Bible to be the
salvation of mankind, and was strong in his condemna-
tion of the Catholic Church. He objected to the
Roman Communion as strongly as he repudiated and
despised Deism and Socinianism.
Byron had at this time a decided leaning towards
the Roman Communion, and, while deploring hypoc-
risies and superstitions, deeply respected those who
believed conscientiously, whatever that belief might
be. He loathed hypocrites of all kinds, and especially
hypocrites in religion.
' I do not reject the doctrines of Christianity,' he
said ; * I only ask a few more proofs to profess them
sincerely. I do not believe myself to be the vile
Christian which so many assert that I am.'
Kennedy advised Byron to put aside all difficult
subjects — such as the origin of sin, the fall of man, the
nature of the Trinity, the doctrine of predestination,
and kindred mysteries — and to study Christianity by
the light of the Bible alone, which contains the only
means of salvation. We give Byron's answer in full
on Dr. Kennedy's authority :
*You recommend what is very difficult; for how is
it possible for one who is acquainted with ecclesias-
tical history, as well as with the writings of the most
renowned theologians, with all the difficult questions
which have agitated the minds of the most learned,
and who sees the divisions and sects which abound in
Christianity, and the bitter language which is often
ye BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
used by the one against the other; how is it possible,
I ask, for such a one not to inquire into the nature of
the doctrines which have given rise to so much dis-
cussion ? One Council has pronounced against another;
Popes have belied their predecessors, books have been
written against other books, and sects have risen to
replace other sects. The Pope has opposed the Protes-
tants, and the Protestants the Pope. We have heard
of Arianism, Socinianism, Methodism, Quakerism, and
numberless other sects. Why have these existed ? It
is a puzzle for the brain ; and does it not, after all,
seem safer to say: " Let us be neutral: let those fight
who will, and when they have settled which is the
best religion, then shall we also begin to study it." I
like your way of thinking, in many respects ; you make
short work of decrees and Councils, you reject all which
is not in harmony with the Scriptures. You do not
admit of theological works filled with Latin and Greek,
of both High and Low Church ; you would even sup-
press many abuses which have crept into the Church,
and you are right ; but I question whether the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury or the Scotch Presbyterians
would consider you their ally.'
Kennedy, in reply, alluded to the differences which
existed in religious opinions, and expressed regret at
this, but pleaded indulgence for those sects which do
not attack the fundamental doctrines of Christianity.
He strongly condemned Arianism, Socinianism, and
Swedenborgianism, which were anathema to him.
' You seem to hate the Socinians greatly,' said Byron,
'but is this charitable? Why exclude a Socinian,
who believes honestly, from any hope of salvation?
Does he not also found his belief upon the Bible ? It
is a religion which gains ground daily. Lady Byron
is much in favour with its followers. We were wont
to discuss religious matters together, and many of our
misunderstandings have arisen from that. Yet, on
the whole, I think her religion and mine were much
alike.'
LADY BYRON ON CALVINISM ^^
Whether Byron was justified in this opinion or not
may be see from a letter which Lady Byron wrote to
Mr. Crabb Robinson* in reference to Dr. Kennedy's
book : v\
'Strange as it may seem, Dr. Kennedy is most
faithful where you doubt his being so. Not merely
from casual expressions, but from the whole tenor of
Lord Byron's feelings, I could not but conclude he
was a believer in the inspiration of the Bible, and had
the gloomiest Calvinistic tenets. To that unhappy
view of the relation of the creature to the Creator, I
have always ascribed the misery of his life. ... It is
enough for me to remember, that he who thinks his
transgressions beyond forgiveness (and such was his
own deepest feeling) has righteousness beyond that of
the self-satisfied sinner; or, perhaps, of the half
awakened. It was impossible for me to doubt, that,
could he have been at once assured of pardon, his
living faith in a moral duty and love of virtue (" I love
the virtues which I cannot claim ") would have con-
quered every temptation. Judge, then, how I must
hate the Creed which made him see God as an Avenger,
not a Father. My own impressions were just the
reverse, but could have little weight, and it was in
vain to seek to turn his thoughts for long from that
idee fixe, with which he connected his physical pecu-
liarity as a stamp. Instead of being made happier by
any apparent good, he felt convinced that every bless-
ing would be " turned into a curse " for him. Who,
possessed of such ideas, could lead a life of love and
service to God or man ? They must in a measure
realize themselves. " The worst of it is I do believe,"
he said. I, like all connected with him, was broken
against the rock of Predestination.*
Lady Byron writes from her own personal experience
of a time when tender affection or sympathy formed no
part of Byron's nature; of a time when he had no
regard for the interests or the happiness of others ;
* ' Diary,' vol. iii., pp. 435, 436.
78 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
when he lived according to his own humours, and
when his will was his law. Byron's earlier poetry
amply supports Lady Byron's view of so miserable a
state of mind. But there is reason to hope — nay, we
might say to believe — that, in the last years of his life,
Byron began to realize that a merciful God would be
wholly incapable of such manifest injustice as to con-
demn His creatures to suffer for crimes which they
were powerless to resist and predestined to commit.
He believed in God and in the immortality of the
soul, and has publicly declared that all punishment
which is to revenge, rather than to correct, must be
morally wrong. * Human passions,' wrote Byron,
' have probably disfigured the Divine doctrines here :
but the whole thing is inscrutable.'
Countess Guiccioli tells us that, whatever may have
been Byron's opinions with regard to certain points of
religious doctrine, sects, and modes of worship, in
essential matters his mind never seriously doubted.
Matthews in his Cambridge days, and Shelley towards
the close of life, moved him not at all. Between the
commencement of Byron's career and its close, his
mind passed successively through different phases
before arriving at the last result. Leicester Stanhope,
who was at Missolonghi with Byron, and who knew
him well latterly, says :
' Most persons assume a virtuous character. Lord
Byron's ambition, on the contrary, was to make the
world imagine that he was a sort of Satan, though
occasionally influenced by lofty sentiments to the
performance of great actions. Fortunately for his
fame, he possessed another quality, by which he stood
completely unmasked. He was the most ingenuous of
men, and his nature, in the main good, always
triumphed over his acting.'
BYRON DID NOT FEAR DEATH 79
Parry, who stood at Byron's bedside when he died
at Missolonghi, tells us that Byron died fearless and
resigned. Could there be a better proof than these
words, spoken by Byron a few hours before he passed
away ? —
' Eternity and space are before me ; but on this
subject, thank God, I am happy and at ease. The
thought of living eternally, of again reviving, is a
great pleasure. Christianity is the purest and most
liberal religion in the world ; but the numerous
teachers who are eternally worrying mankind with
their denunciations and their doctrines are the
greatest enemies of religion. I have read, with more
attention than half of them, the Book of Christianity,
and I admire the liberal and truly charitable principles
which Christ has laid down. There are questions
connected with this subject which none but Almighty
God can solve. Time and Space, who can conceive?
None but God : on Him I rely.'
During the time that Byron lived at Metaxata, in
Cephalonia, he seldom saw anyone in the evening
except Dr. Stravolemo, one of the most estimable men
in the island, who lived in that village. He had been
first physician to Ali Pacha. He was an entertaining
man, and afforded Byron much amusement by dis-
puting with Dr. Bruno on medical questions.
' Lord Byron,' says Gamba, ' had generally three or
four books lying before him, of which he read first one,
then the other, and used to contrive to foment those
friendly contentions, which, however, never exceeded
the proper bounds. Lord Byron's favourite reading
consisted of Greek history, of memoirs, and of
romances. Never a day passed without his reading
some pages of Scott's novels. His admiration of
Walter Scott, both as a writer and as a companion,
was unbounded. Speaking of him to his English
friends, he used to say : " You should know Scott ; you
would like him so much ; he is the most delightful
80 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
man in a room ; no affectation, no nonsense ; and,
what I like above all things, nothing of the author
about him.'
One evening Colonel Napier, the British Resident,
arrived at Byron's house at a gallop, and asked for
Drs. Bruno and Stravolemo. He said that a party
of peasants who were road-making had, in excavating
a high bank, fallen under a landslide and were in
danger of their lives. There were at least a dozen
persons entombed. Colonel Napier happened to
be passing at the moment when the catastrophe
occurred ; help was urgently needed. Byron sent
Dr. Bruno to their assistance, while he and Gamba
followed as soon as their horses could be saddled.
' When we came to the place,' says Gamba, * we saw
a lamentable spectacle indeed. A crowd of women
and children were assembled round the ruins, and
filled the air with their cries. Three or four of the
peasants who had been extricated were carried before
us half dead to the neighbouring cottages ; and we
found Mr. Hill, a friend of Lord Byron, and the super-
intendent of the w^orks, in a state of the utmost con-
sternation. Although an immense crowd continued
flocking to the place, and it was thought that there
were still some other workmen under the fallen mass
of earth, no one would make any further efforts. The
Greeks stood looking on without moving, as if totally
indifferent to the catastrophe, and despaired of doing
any good. This enraged Lord Byron; he seized a
spade, and began to work as hard as he could ; but it
was not until the peasants had been threatened with
the horsewhip that they followed his example. Some
shoes and hats were found, but no human beings.
Lord Byron never could be an idle spectator of any
calamity. He was peculiarly alive to the distress of
others, and was perhaps a little too easily imposed
upon by every tale of woe, however clumsily con-
trived. The slightest appearance of injustice or cruelty,
not only to his own species, but to animals, roused
GREEK SQUADRON AT MISSOLONGHI 8i
his indignation and compelled his interference, and
personal consequences never for one moment entered
into his calculations.'
In the month of December the Greek squadron
anchored off Missolonghi, where Prince Mavrocordato
was received with enthusiasm. He was given full
powers to organize Western Greece. The Turkish
squadron was at this time shut up in the Gulf of
Lepanto.
Byron sent to inform Mavrocordato that the loan
which he had promised to the Government was ready,
and that he was prepared either to go on board some
vessel belonging to the Greek fleet, or to come to
Missolonghi and confer with him. Mavrocordato and
Colonel Leicester Stanhope wrote to beg Byron to
come as soon as possible to Missolonghi, where his
presence would be of great service to the cause. In
the first place money to pay the fleet was much
wanted ; the sailors were on the verge of mutiny.
Mavrocordato was in a state of anxiety, the Greek
Admiral looked gloomy, and the sailors grumbled aloud.
' It is right and necessary to tell you,' wrote Stan-
hope, 'that a great deal is expected of you, both in the
way of counsel and money. If the money does not
arrive soon, I expect that the remaining five ships (the
others are off) will soon make sail for Spezia. All are
eager to see you. They calculate on your aiding them
with resources for their expedition against Lepanto,
and hope that you will take about 1,500 Suliotes into
your pay for two or three months. Missolonghi is
swarming with soldiers, and the Government has
neither quarters nor provisions for them. I walked
along the street this evening, and the people asked me
after Lord Byron. Your further delay in coming will
be attended with serious consequences.'
Byron at the same time received a letter from the
Legislative Council, begging him to co-operate with
6
82 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
Mavrocordato in the organization of Western Greece.
It was now December 26, 1823. Byron chartered a
vessel for part of the baggage ; a mistico, or light fast-
sailing vessel, for himself and his suite ; and a larger
vessel for the horses, baggage, and munitions of war.
The weather was unfavourable and squally, the vessels
could not get under-weigh, and the whole party were
detained for two days, during which time Byron
lodged with his banker, Mr. Charles Hancock, and
passed the greater part of the day in the society of the
British authorities of the island.
We are able, through the courtesy of General Skey
Muir, the son of Byron's friend at Cephalonia, to give
extracts from a letter which Mr. Charles Hancock
wrote to Dr Muir on June i, 1824. During Byron's
residence at Metaxata, Dr. Muir was the principal
medical officer at Cephalonia, and it was in his house
that some of the conversations on religion between
Dr. Kennedy and Byron were held. Mr. Charles
Hancock writes :
* The day before Byron left the island I happened to
receive a copy of" Quentin Durward," which I put into
his hands, knowing that he had not seen it, and that
he wished to obtain the perusal of it. Lord Byron
was very fond of Scott's novels — you will have
observed they were always scattered about his rooms
at Metaxata. He immediately shut himself in his
roorn, and, in his eagerness to indulge in it, refused
to dine with the officers of the 8th Regiment at their
mess, or even to join us at table, but merely came out
once or twice to say how much he was entertained,
returning to his chamber with a plate of figs in his
hand. He was exceedingly delighted with "Quentin
Durward " — said it was excellent, especially the first
volume and part of the second, but that it fell off
towards the conclusion, like all the more recent of
these novels : it might be, he added, owing to the
ZANTE TO MISSOLONGHI 83
extreme rapidity with which they were written —
admirably conceived, and as well executed at the out-
set, but hastil}^ finished off. . . .
' I will close these remarks with the mention of the
period when we took our final leave of him. It was
on the 29th December last that, after a slight repast,
you and I accompanied him in a boat, gay and animated
at finding himself embarked once more on the element
he loved ; and we put him on board the little vessel
that conveyed him to Zante and Missolonghi. He
mentioned the poetic feeling with which the sea
always inspired him, rallied you on your grave and
thoughtful looks, me on my bad steering ; quizzed
Dr. Bruno, but added in English (which the doctor
did not understand), " He is the most sincere Italian
I ever met with "; and laughed at Fletcher, who was
getting well ducked by the spray that broke over the
bows of the boat. The vessel was lying sheltered
from the wind in the little creek that is surmounted
by the Convent of San Constantino, but it was not till
she had stood out and caught the breeze that we
parted from him, to see him no more.'
The wind becoming fair, on December 28, at 3 p.m.,
the vessels got under way, Byron in the mistico,
Pietro Gamba in the larger vessel. On the morning
of the 29th they were at Zante, and spent the day in
transacting business with Mr. Bartf and shipping a
considerable sum of money. Byron declined the
Commandant's invitation to his residence, as his time
was fully occupied with the business in hand. At
about six in the evening they sailed for Missolonghi,
without the slightest suspicion that the Turkish fleet
was on the lookout for prizes. They knew that the
Greek fleet was lying before Missolonghi, and they
expected to sight a convoy sent out to meet them.
Gamba says :
* We sailed together till after ten at night, with a
fair wind and a clear sky ; the air was fresh but not
sharp. Our sailors sang patriotic songs, monotonous
6—2
84 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
indeed, but to persons in our situation extremely
touching. We were all, Lord Byron particularly, in
excellent spirits. His vessel sailed the fastest. Then
the waves parted us, and our voices could no longer
reach each other. We made signals by firing pistols
and carabines, and shouted, *' To morrow we meet at
Missolonghi — to morrow !"
' Thus, full of confidence and spirit, we sailed along.
At midnight we were out of sight.'
At 6.30 a.m. the vessel which bore Gamba along
gaily approached the rocks which border the shallows
of Missolonghi. They saw a large vessel bearing
down upon them, which they at first took for one of
the Greek fleet ; in appearance it seemed superior to a
Turkish man-of-war. But as Gamba's vessel hoisted
the Ionian flag, to their dismay the stranger hoisted
the Ottoman ensign. The Turkish commander ordered
Gamba's captain to come on board, and the poor
fellow gave himself up for lost. They could think of
no excuse which would have any weight with their
captors, and were in some trepidation as to Byron's
fate, he having money, arms, and some Greeks,
with him.
Writing from Missolonghi on January 5, 1824,
Colonel Stanhope says :
* Count Gamba has just arrived here, with all the
articles belonging to the Committee. He was taken
earl^' in the morning by a Turkish ship. The captain
thereof ordered the master on board. The moment
he came on deck, the captain drew his dazzling sabre
and placed himself in an attitude as if to cut his head
off, and at the same time asked him where he was
bound. The frightened Greek said, to Missolonghi.
They gazed at each other, and all at once the Turk
recognized in his prisoner one who, on a former
occasion, had saved his life. They embraced. Next
came Count Gamba's turn. He declared — swore that
he was bound to Calamata, and that the master had
ARRIVAL AT MISSOLONGHI 85
told a lie through fear, and that his bill of lading-
would bear him out. They were both taken to the
castle of the Morea, were well treated, and after three
days released.'
On January 5, 1824, Byron arrived at Missolonghi.
He was received with military honours and popular
applause.
' He landed,' says Gamba, * in a Speziot boat, dressed
in a red uniform. He was in excellent health, and
appeared moved by the scene. I met him as he dis-
embarked, and in a few minutes we entered the house
prepared for him — the same in which Colonel Stanhope
resided. The Colonel and Prince Mavrocordato, with
a long suite of Greek and European officers, received
him at the door. I cannot describe the emotions
which such a scene excited. Crowds of soldiery and
citizens of every rank, sex, and age, were assembled
to testify their delight. Hope and content were
pictured on every countenance.'
Byron seems to have escaped from perils quite as
great, though differing in nature, from those through
which Gamba had passed. His vessel passed close to
the Turkish frigate, but under favour of the night, and
by preserving complete silence, the master ran her
close under the rocks of the Scrofes, whither the Turk
dared not follow her. Byron saw Gamba's vessel
taken and conducted to Patras. Byron, thinking it
wiser not to make straight for Missolonghi steered for
Petala ; but finding that port open and unsafe, his
vessel was taken to Dragomestri, a small town on the
coast of Acarnania. On his arrival there, Byron was
visited by the Primates and officers of the place, who
offered him their good offices. From this place Byron
sent messengers both to Zante and Missolonghi. On
receipt of Byron's letter, Mavrocordato sent five gun-
boats and a brig-of-war to escort him to Missolonghi.
S6 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
On January 4, the flotilla was caught in a violent
storm, which threw Byron's vessel in dangerous
proximity to the rocks on that inhospitable coast.
The sailors at first behaved remarkably well, and got
the vessel off the rocks ; but a second squall burst
upon them with great violence, and drove the Mistico
into dangerous waters, causing the sailors to lose all
hope of saving her. They abandoned the vessel to
her fate, and thought only of their own safety. But
Byron persuaded them to remain ; and by his firm-
ness, and no small share of nautical skill, not only got
the crew out of danger, but also saved the vessel,
several lives, and 25,000 dollars, the greater part of
which was in hard cash. Byron does not seem to
have pulled off his clothes since leaving Cephalonia.
It was an adventurous voyage — appropriately so —
for it was his last journey in this world.
CHAPTER VIII
At the beginning of the war, Missolonghi consisted
of about 800 scattered houses, built close to the seaside
on a muddy and most unhealthy site, scarcely above
the level of the waters, 'which a few centuries ago
must have covered the spot, as may be judged from
the nature of the soil, consisting of decomposed sea-
weed and dried mud.' The population was exceed-
ingly poor, and amounted to nearly 3,000 souls. The
town had a most uninviting appearance ; the streets
were narrow and badly paved. But, says Millingen,
what most revolted a stranger was the practice of
having the buildings so constructed that the most
loathsome substances were emptied into the streets.
The inhabitants were so accustomed to this abomin-
able state of things that they ridiculed the complaints
of strangers, and even swore at people who ventured
to suggest reform. Missolonghi must indeed have
been a wretched place even for a strong man in his
full powers and vitality — for Byron it was nothing
short of Death ! Trelawny tells us that this place is
situated on the verge of a dismal swamp. The marvel
to him was that Byron, who was always liable to
fevers, should have consented to live three months on
this mud-bank, shut in by a circle of stagnant pools
87
88 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
'which might be called the belt of death.' When
Trelawny arrived in the early spring, he found most
of the strangers suffering from gastric fevers. He
waded through the streets, ' between wind and water,'
to the house where Byron had lived — a detached
building on the margin of the shallow, slimy sea-
waters.
Such, then, was the residence which was destined to
be the last home of the author of ' Childe Harold !'
Byron had scarcely reached the modest apartment
which had been assigned to him, when he was greeted
by the tumultuous visits of the Primates and chiefs.
All the chieftains of Western Greece — that :s to say,
the mountainous districts occupied by the Greeks —
were now collected at Missolonghi in a general
assembly, together with many of the Primates of the
same districts, Mavrocordato, at that time Governor-
General of the province, was President of the Assembly,
with a bodyguard of 5,000 armed men. The first
object of this assembly, says Gamba, was to organize
the military forces, the assignment of the soldiers' pay,
and the establishment of the national constitution and
some regular form of government for Western Greece.
The chieftains were not all of them well disposed
towards Mavrocordato ; the soldiers were badly paid —
in fact, hardly paid at all ; and so great was the fear of
disturbances, quarrels, and even of a civil war, that
without the influence of Prince Mavrocordato, and the
presence of Byron with his money, there could have
been no harmony.
After the departure of the Turks, who had blockaded
Missolonghi, there was a general feeling of security,
and no one expected them to return before the spring.
The Peloponnesus, with exception of the castles of
AN ACT OF GRACE 89
the Morea and of Patras, of Modon and of Covon, was
in the hands of the Greeks. The northern shore of
the Gulf of Lepanto, with the exception of the two
castles, were also in Greek hands. They swayed
Boeotia and Attica, together with the whole isthmus
of Corinth.
Such was the state of affairs when Byron arrived on
that dismal swamp. The position in which he found
himself required much skill and tact ; for the dissen-
sion among the various leaders in other parts of
Greece was in its bitterest phase, and public opinion
everywhere was dead against the executive body. It
would have been fatal to the prestige of Byron if, in a
moment of impetuosity, he had cast in his lot with
some particular faction. It was his fixed intention, as
it was clearly his best policy, to reconcile differences,
and to bring the contending factions closer together.
His influence amongst all parties was daily increasing,
and everyone believed that Byron would eventually
be able to bring discordant voices into harmony, and
pave the way for the formation of a strong, patriotic
Government. He faced the situation bravely, and
closed his ears to the unworthy squabbles of ambitious
cliques. He made arrangements, with the best assist-
ance at hand, to turn the expected loan from England
to the best account, in order to insure the freedom
and independence of Greece.
The first day of his arrival at Missolonghi was
signalized by an act of grace. A Turk, who had
fallen into the hands of some Greek sailors, was
released by Byron's orders, and, having been clothed
and fed at his own expense, was given quarters at
Byron's house until an opportunity occurred of sending
him in freedom to Patras. About a fortnight later,
90 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
hearing that four Turkish prisoners were at Misso-
longhi in a state of destitution, Byron caused them to
be set at liberty, and sent them to Usouff Pacha at
Patras, with a letter which, though it has been often
printed, deserves a place in this narrative :
' Highness !
' A vessel, in which a friend and some domestics
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 pro-
tection, no one had a right to detain, but for having
treated my friends with so much kindness while they
were in your hands.
* In the hope 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 prisoners are liberated without any
conditions ; but should the circumstance find a place
in your recollection, I venture to beg that your High-
ness will treat such Greeks as may henceforth fall
into your hands, with humanity ; more especially as
the horrors of war are sufficiently great in themselves,
vvithout being aggravated by wanton cruelties on
either side.
' Noel Byron.
' MiSSOLONGHI,
'■January 23, 1824.'
This letter was the keynote of Byron's policy during
the remainder of his life. The horrors of war were
sufficient in themselves without that unnecessary
cruelty so often exhibited by Eastern nations in their
treatment of prisoners of war.
The following account of an incident connected with
Byron's clemency to a prisoner pictures the state of
things at Missolonghi.
PREPARATIONS AGAINST LEPANTO 91
' This evening,' says Gamba, ' whilst Mavrocordato
was with Lord Byron, two sailors belonging to the
privateer which had taken the Turk came into the
room, demanding in an insolent tone that their prisoner
should be delivered up to them. Lord Byron refused ;
their importunity became more violent, and they refused
to leave the room without their Turk (such was their
expression) on which Lord Byron, presenting a pistol
at the intruders, threatened to proceed to extremities
unless they instantly retired. The sailors withdrew,
but Byron complained to Mavrocordato of his want of
authority, and said to him : " If your Government can-
not protect me in my own house, I will find means to
protect myself." From that time Lord Byron retained
a Suliote guard in his house,'
During the winter preparations were being made
for an expedition against Lepanto, a fortress which,
if captured by the Greeks, would facilitate the siege of
Patras. Its fortifications were constructed on the
slope of a hill, forming a triangle, the base of which
was close to the sea. Its walls were of Venetian
construction, but without ditches. As portions of its
walls were commanded by a neighbouring hill, its
siege would have proved a very arduous undertaking
even with regular troops ; but with raw Greek levies
its reduction, except by famine, would have been almost
impossible. On January 14, 1824, Colonel Stanhope
writes to Mr. Bowring in the following terms : * Lord
Byron has taken 500 Suliotes into pay. He burns with
military ardour and chivalry, and will proceed with
the expedition to Lepanto.' Circumstances were, how-
ever, against this expedition from the very beginning.
Great hopes had been entertained by Lord Byron and
by Colonel Stanhope that the Suliotes would conform
to discipline, and that Mr. Parry, who had been sent
out by the Greek Committee with stores and ammuni-
tion, would on his arrival organize the artillery, and
92 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
manufacture Congreve rockets — a projectile of which
the Turks were said to be in great awe.
Parry arrived at Missolonghi early in February, on
board the brig Anna, which had been chartered by the
London Greek Committee. He brought cannons,
ammunition, printing-presses, medicines, and all the
apparatus necessary for the establishment of a military
laboratory. Several English mechanics came with
him, and some English, German, and Swedish gentle-
men, who wished to serve the Greek cause.
Mr. (or, as he was afterwards called) Major, Parry
was a peculiar person in every way. He had at one
time served as a shipwright, then as Firemaster in the
King's service, and won favour with Byron through
his buffoonery and plain speaking — two very useful
qualifications in environments of stress and duplicity.
When Byron appointed him Major in the Artillery
Brigade, the best officers in the brigade tendered their
resignations, stating that, while they would be proud
to serve under Lord Byron, neither their honour nor
the interests of the service would allow them to serve
under a man who had no practical experience of
military evolutions. The German officers also, who
had previously served in the Prussian army, appealed
against Parry's appointment, and offered proofs of his
ignorance of artillery. But Byron would not listen to
complaints, which he attributed partly to jealousy and
partly to German notions of etiquette, which seemed
to him to be wholly out of place in a country where
merit rather than former titles should regulate such
appointments.
In supporting Parry against these officers, Byron
was in a measure influenced by the recommendations
of both the Greek Committee who sent him out, and
MAJOR PARRY 93
of Colonel Leicester Stanhope, who at that time con-
sidered Parry to be an exceedingly capable officer.
Perhaps, if Parry had not appeared on parade in
an apron, brandishing a hammer, and if he had not
asserted himself so extravagantly, he might possibly
have passed muster. But tact and modesty were not
in Parry's line; and having boasted to the London
Committee that he was acquainted with almost every
branch of military mechanics, he bullied its members
into a belief that his pretentions were well founded.
As a matter of fact. Parry proved to be unsuited for
high command, although it must be admitted that he
worked indefatigably. He made plans for the erection
of a laboratory, and presided over the works. He
paved the yard of the Seraglio, repaired the batteries,
instructed the troops in musketry and gunnery ; he
gave lessons with the broadsword, inspected the forti-
fications, and directed the operations of Cocchini, the
chief engineer. He repaired gun-carriages, and put
his hand to anything wanted, so that it appeared as
if really nothing could be done without him. In one
thing only did Parry seem to fall short of general
expectation. He had boasted that he knew the com-
position of * Congreve rockets.' With this mighty
instrument of mischief he prophesied that the Greeks
would be able to paralyze all the efforts of their enemy,
both by land and sea. The Turkish cavalry, the only
arm against which the Greeks were impotent, would
be rendered useless, and the Turkish vessels, by the
same means, would be easily destroyed.
Unfortunately, the manufacture of these rockets was
impossible without the assistance of the English
mechanics whom he had brought with him, and these
men were unable to work without materials, which were
94 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
not obtainable. Thus the principal part of Parry's
' stock-in-trade ' — his rockets, incendiary kites, and
improved Grecian fires — were not forthcoming.
For a long time the roads in the neighbourhood of
Missolonghi were so broken up by incessant rain that
Byron could not ride or take any outdoor exercise.
This affected his health. His only means of getting a
little fresh air was by paddling through the murky
waters in a sort of canoe. During these expeditions,
says Gamba, who always accompanied him, he spoke
often of his anxiety to begin the campaign. He had
not much hope of success, but felt that something
must be done during these tedious months, if only to
employ the troops and keep them from creating dis-
turbances in the town.
* I am not come here in search of adventures,' said
Byron, 'but to assist the regeneration of a nation, whose
very debasement makes it more honourable to become
their friend. Regular troops are certainly necessary,
but not in great num.bers : regular troops alone would
not succeed in a country like Greece ; and irregular
troops alone are only just better than nothing. Only
let the loan be raised; and in the meantime let us
try to form a strong national Government, ready to
apply our pecuniary resources, when they arrive, to
the organization of troops, the establishment of
internal civilization, and the preparations for acting
defensively now, and on the offensive next winter.
Nothing is so insupportable to me as all these minute
details and these repeated delays. But patience is in-
dispensable, and that I find the most difficult of all
attainments.'
It was Byron's custom to spend his evenings in
Colonel Stanhope's room, with his English comrades.
Sometimes the Germans would join the party, play on
their flutes, and sing their national airs to the accom-
A PRACTICAL JOKE 95
paniment of a guitar. Byron was fond of music in
general, and was especially partial to German music,
particularly to their national songs.
Millingen tells us that in the evening all the
English who had not, with Colonel Stanhope, turned
Odysseans assembled at Byron's house, and enjoyed
the charm of his conversation till late at night.
Byron's character, says Millingen,
'differed so much from what I had been induced to
imagine from the relations of travellers, that either
their reports must have been inaccurate, or his
character must have totally changed after his de-
parture from Genoa. It would be difficult, indeed
impossible, to convey an idea of the pleasure his con-
versation afforded. Among his works, that which
may perhaps be more particularly regarded as exhibit-
ing the mirror of his conversation, and the spirit
which animated it, is " Don Juan." He was indeed too
open, and too indiscreet in respect to the reminiscences
of his early days. Sometimes, when his vein of
humour flowed more copiously than usual, he would
play tricks on individuals. Fletcher's boundless
credulity afforded him an ever-ready fund of amuse-
ment, and he one evening planned a farce, which was
as well executed and as laughable as any ever exhibited
on the stage. Having observed how nervous Parry
had been, a few days before, during an earthquake, he
felt desirous of renewing the ludicrous sight which
the fat, horror-struck figure of the Major had exhibited
on that occasion. He placed, therefore, fifty of his
Suliotes in the room above that w^here Parry slept, and
towards midnight ordered them to shake the house, so
as to imitate that phenomenon. He himself at the
same time banged the doors, and rushed downstairs,
delighted to see the almost distracted Major imploring
tremblingly the mercy of heaven.'
Lord Byron was very much taken with Parry,
whose drolleries relieved the tedium and constant
vexations incidental to the situation at Missolonghi.
96 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
The Major appears to have been an excellent mimic, and
possessed a fund of quaint expressions that made up for
the deficiency of real wit. Millingen says that he could
tell, in his coarse language, a good story, and could
play Falstaff's, or the part of a clown very naturally.
He ranted Richard HI.'s or Hamlet's soliloquies in a
mock-tragic manner like a player at Bartholomew Fair,
which made everyone laugh, and beguiled the length
of many a rainy evening.
On January 21, 1824, Missolonghi was blockaded
by the Turkish fleet. There were neither guns nor
even sailors fit to man the gunboats ; the only chance
was to make a night attack upon the Turks in boats
manned by the European volunteers then residing at
Missolonghi. Byron took the matter in hand, and
insisted on joining personally in the expedition. He
was so determined on this project that Mavrocordato
and others, realizing the folly of exposing so valuable
a life on so desperate an enterprise, dissuaded Byron
from risking his valuable life in a business for which
there were already sufficient volunteers. As things
turned out, it did not much matter, for the Turkish
fleet suddenly abandoned the blockade and returned
to the gulf.
On January 22, while Colonel Stanhope and some
friends were assembled, Byron came from his bedroom
and said, with a smile : ' You were complaining the
other day that I never write any poetry now : this is
my birthday, and I have just finished something,
which, I think, is better than what I usually write.* He
then produced those affecting verses on his own
birthday which were afterwards found written in his
journal, with the following introduction : * January 22 :
on this day I complete my thirty-sixth year.'
A PRESENTIMENT OF DEATH 97
' We perceived from these lines,' says Gamba, * as
well as from his daily conversations, that his ambition
and his hope were irrevocably fixed upon the glorious
objects of his expedition to Greece, and that he had
made up his mind to " return victorious, or return no
more." Indeed, he often said to me, " Others may do
as they please — they may go — but I stay here, that is
certain."
This resolution was accompanied with the natural
presentiment that he should never leave Greece
alive. He one day asked his faithful servant Tita
whether he thought of returning to Italy. * Yes,'
said Tita; 'if your lordship goes, I go.' Lord Byron
smiled, and said : ' No, Tita, I shall never go back from
Greece ; either the Turks, or the Greeks, or the
climate, will prevent that.'
Parry tells us that Byron's mind on this point was
irrevocably fixed.
' My future intentions,' he said, ' may be explained
in a few words. I will remain here in Greece till she
is secure against the Turks, or till she has fallen
under her power. All my income shall be spent in
her service ; but, unless driven by some great necessity,
I will not touch a farthing of the sum intended for my
sister's children. Whatever I can accomplish with
my income, and my personal exertions, shall be cheer-
fully done. When Greece is secure against external
enemies, I will leave the Greeks to settle their
government as they like. One service more, and an
eminent service it will be, I think I may perform for
them. You shall have a schooner built for me, or I
will buy a vessel ; the Greeks shall invest me with
the character of their Ambassador or agent ; I will
go to the United States, and procure that free and
enlightened Government, to set the example of recog-
nizing the Federation of Greece, as an independent
State. This done, England must follow the example,
and then the fate of Greece will be permanently
fixed, and she will enter into all her rights, as a
98 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
member of the great commonwealth of Christian
Europe. . . .
The cause of Greece naturally excites our sympathy.
Her people are Christians contending against Turks,
and slaves struggling to be free. There never was a
cause which had such strong claims on the sympathy
of the people of Europe, and particularly of the people
of England.'*
The following extract from a letter written by
Mr. George Finlay in June, 1824, seems worthy of
production in this place:
* I arrived at Missolonghi at the latter end ot
February. During my stay there, in the forenoon I
rode out with Lord Byron ; and generally Mr. Fowke
and myself spent the evenings in his room.
* In our rides, the state of Greece was the usual
subject of our conversation ; and at times he ex-
pressed a strong wish to revisit Athens. I mentioned
the great cheapness of property in Attica, and the
possibility of my purchasing some of the villas near
the city. He said that, if I could find any eligible
property, he would have no objections to purchase
likewise, as he wished to have some real property in
Greece ; and he authorized me to treat for him. I
always urged him to make Corinth his headquarters.
Sometimes he appeared inclined to do so, and re-
marked, that it would be a strange coincidence if, after
writing an unsuccessful defence of Corinth, he should
himself make a successful one. An event so fortunate,
I said, would leave him no more to ask from fortune,
and reminded him how very much of fame depends on
mere accident. Caesar's conquests and his works
would not have raised his fame so high, but for the
manner of his death.
' In the evenings Lord Byron was generally ex-
tremely communicative, and talked much of his youth-
ful scenes at Cambridge, Brighton, and London ;
spoke very often of his friends, Mr. Hobhouse and
Mr. Scrope B. Davies — told many anecdotes of him-
self which are well known, and many which were
* Parry, p. 170.
EVENINGS AT MISSOLONGHI 99
amusing from his narration, but which would lose
their interest from another; but what astonished me
the most was the ease with which he spoke of all
those reports which were spread by his enemies — he
gave his denials and explanations with the frankness
of an unconcerned person.
* I often spoke to him about Newstead Abbey, which
I had visited in 1821, a few months before leaving
England. On informing him of the repairs and im-
provements which were then going on, he said, if he
had been rich enough, he should have liked to have
kept it as the old abbey ; but he enjoyed the excellent
bargain he had made at the sale. A solicitor sent
him a very long bill, and, on his grumbling at the
amount, he said he was silenced by a letter, remind-
ing him that he had received ;^20,ooo forfeit-money
from the first purchaser. I mentioned the picture of
his bear in the cottage near the lodge — the Newfound-
land dog and the verses on its tomb. He said, New-
foundland dogs had twice saved his life, and that he
could not live without one.
' He spoke frequently of the time he lived at
Aberdeen. Their house was near the college. He
described the place, but I have forgotten it. He said
his mother's "lassack" used to put him to bed at a
very early hour, and then go to converse with her
lover; he had heard the house was haunted, and
sometimes used to get out of bed and run along the
lobby in his shirt, till he saw a light, and there remain
standing till he was so cold he was forced to go to
bed again. One night the servant returning, he grew
frightened and ran towards his room ; the maid saw
him, and fled more frightened than he ; she declared
she had seen a ghost. Lord Byron said, he was so
frightened at the maid, he kept the secret till she was
turned away ; and, he added, he never since kept a
secret half so long. The first passion he ever felt
was for a young lady who was on a visit to his
mother while they lived in Scotland ; he was at the
time about six years old, and the young lady about
nine, yet he was almost ill on her leaving his mother's
house to return home. He told me, if I should ever
meet the lady (giving me her address), to ask her if
she remembers him. On some conversation about the
7—2
loo BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
" English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," he gave as a
reason for his attacking many of the persons included,
that he was informed, some time before the publica-
tion of the review, that the next number was to
contain an article on his poems which had been read
at Holland House. "Judge of my fever ; was it not a
pleasant situation for a young author ?"
Tn conversation he used to deliver very different
opinions on many authors from those contained in his
works ; in the one case he might be guided more by
his judgment, and in the other submit entirely to his
own particular taste. I have quoted his writings in
opposition to his words, and he replied, " Never mind
what I print ; that is not what I think." He certainly
did not consider much of the poetry of the present
day as " possessing buoyancy enough to float down
the stream of time." I remarked, he ought really to
alter the passage in the preface of " Marino Faliero,"
on living dramatic talent; he exclaimed, laughing,
" Do you mean me to erase the name of moral me .?"
In this manner he constantly distinguished Milman,
alluding to some nonsense in the Quarterly Review.
He was extremely amused with Blackwood's Magazine,
and read it whenever he could get a number ; he
has frequently repeated to me passages of Ensign
O'Doherty's poetry, which I had not read, and ex-
pressed great astonishment at the ability displayed by
the author.
*On a gentleman present once asking his opinion of
the works of a female author of some note, he said,
" A bad imitation of me — all pause and start."
* On my borrowing Mitford's "History of Greece"
from him, and saying I had read it once, and intended
commencing it again in Greece, he said, " I hate the
book ; it makes you too well acquainted with the
ancient Greeks, and robs antiquity of all its charms.
History in his hands, has no poetry."
* I was in the habit of praising Sir William Cell's
Itineraries to Lord B., and he, on the other hand,
took every opportunity of attacking his Argolis,
though his attacks were chiefly directed against the
drawings, and particularly the view of the bay. He
told me he was the author of the article on Sir
W. Gell's Argolis in the Monthly Review, and said he
BYRON'S OPINION OF SHAKESPEARE loi
had written two other articles in this work ; but I
have forgotten them.*
' Whenever the drama was mentioned, he defended
the unities most eagerly, and usually attacked Shak-
speare. A gentleman present, on hearing his anti-
Shakspearean opinions, rushed out of the room, and
afterwards entered his protest most anxiously against
such doctrines. Lord B. was quite delighted with
this, and redoubled the severity of his criticism. I
had heard that Shelley once said to Lord B, in his
extraordinary way, " B., you are a most wonderful
man." " How ?" ** You are envious of Shakspeare."
I, therefore, never expressed the smallest astonishment
at hearing Shakspeare abused ; but remarked, it was
curious that Lord B. was so strangely conversant in
an author of such inferior merit, and that he should so
continually have the most melodious lines of Shak-
speare in his mouth as examples of blank verse. He
said once, when we were alone, " I like to astonish
Englishmen : they come abroad full of Shakspeare,
and contempt for the dramatic literature of other
nations ; they think it blasphemy to find a fault in his
writings, which are full of them. People talk of the
tendency of my writings, and yet read the sonnets to
Master Hughes." Lord B. certainly did not admire
the French tragedians enthusiastically. I said to him,
" There is a subject for the Drama which, I believe,
has never been touched, and which, I think, affords
the greatest possible scope for the representation of
all that is sublime in human character — but then it
would require an abandonment of the unities — the
attack of Maurice of Saxony on Charles V., which
saved the Protestant religion ; it is a subject of more
than national interest." He said it was certainly a fine
subject; but he held that the drama could not exist
without a strict adherence to the unities ; and besides,
he knew well he had failed in his dramatic attempts,
and that he intended to make no more. He said he
thought " Sardanapalus " his best tragedy.
'The memory of Lord B. was very extraordinary;
it was not the mere mechanical memory which can
* Byron wrote a review of Wordsworth's ' Poems ' in Monthly
Literary Recreations for July, 1807, and a review of Gell's ' Geography
of Ithaca' in the Montlily Review for August, 181 1.
I02 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
repeat the advertisements of a newspaper and such
nonsense; but of all the innumerable novels which he
had read, he seemed to recollect perfectly the story
and every scene of merit.
' Once I had a bet with Mr. Fowke that Maurice of
Orange was not the grandson of Maurice of Saxony,
as it ran in my head that Maurice was a son of Count
Horn's sister. On applying for a decision of our bet
to Lord B., he immediately told me I was wrong, that
William of Orange was thrice married, and that he
had Maurice by a daughter of Maurice of Saxony : he
repeated the names of all the children. I said, "This is
the most extraordinary instance of your memory I
ever heard." He replied, " It's not very extraordinary
— I read it all a few days ago in Watson's " Philip H.,"
and you will find it in a note at the bottom of the last
page but one" (I think he said) "of the second volume."
He went to his bedroom and brought the book, in
which we found the note he had repeated. It seemed
to me wonderful enough that such a man could
recollect the names of William of Orange's children
and their families even for ten minutes.
* Once, on receiving some newspapers, in reading the
advertisements of new publications aloud, I read the
name of Sir Aubrey de Vere Hunt ; Lord B. instantly
said, " Sir Aubrey was at Harrow, I remember, but he
was younger than me. He was an excellent swimmer,
and once saved a boy's life ; nobody would venture in,
and the boy was nearl}^ drowned, when Sir Aubrey
was called. The boy's name was M'Kinnon, and he
went afterwards to India." I think B. said he died
there.
' " It is strange," I replied ; " I heard this very
circumstance from Sir Aubrey de Vere Hunt, who
inquired if I knew the boy, who must now be a man,
but said, I think, that his name was Mackenzie."
" Depend upon it, I am right," said Byron.
' Lord B. said he had kept a very exact journal of
every circumstance of his life, and many of his
thoughts while young, that he had let Mr. Hobhouse
see it in Albania, and that he at last persuaded
him to burn it. He said Hobhouse had robbed the
world of a treat. He used to say that many of his
acquaintances, particularly his female ones, while he
MOTTO FOR THE 'GREEK TELEGRAPH' 103
was in London, did not like Mr. Hobhouse, " for they
thought he kept me within bounds."
' When he was asked for a motto for the Greek
Telegraph, by Gamba, during the time he felt averse
to the publication of a European newspaper in Greece,
he gave, "To the Greeks foolishness" — in allusion to
the publication in languages which the natives gener-
ally do not understand.
' On a discussion in his presence concerning the
resemblance of character between the ancient and
modern Greeks, he said : "At least we have St. Paul's
authority that they had their present character in his
time ; for he says there is no difference between the
Jew and the Greek."
*A few days before I left Missolonghi, riding out
together, he told me that he had received a letter from
his sister, in which she mentioned that one of the
family had displayed some poetical talent, but that
she would not tell him who, as she hoped she should
hear no more of it. I said " That is a strange wish from
the sister of such a poet." He replied that he believed
the poetical talent was always a source of pain, and
that he certainly would have been happier had he
never written a line.
'Those only who were personally acquainted with
him can be aware of the influence which every passing
event had over his mind, or know the innumerable
modifications under which his character was daily
presenting itself; even his writings took a shade of
colouring from those around him. His passions and
feelings were so lively that each occurrence made a
strong impression, and his conduct became so entirely
governed by impulse that he immediately and vehe-
mently declared his sentiments. It is not wonderful,
therefore, that instances of his inconsistency should
be found ; though in the most important actions of his
life he has acted with no common consistency, and his
death attests his sincerity. To attempt by scattered
facts to illustrate his character is really useless. A
hundred could be immediately told to prove him a
miser ; as many to prove him the most generous of
men; an equal number, perhaps, to show he was
nervously alive to the distresses of others, or heart-
lessly unfeeling; at times that he indulged in every
I04 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
desire ; at others, that he pursued the most determined
system of self-denial ; that he ridiculed his friends, or
defended them with the greatest anxiety. At one time
he was all enthusiasm ; at another perfect indifference
on the very same subject. All this would be true, and
yet our inference most probably incorrect. Such hearts
as Lord B.'s must become old at an early age, from
the continual excitement to which they are exposed,
and those only can judge fairly of him, even from his
personal acquaintance, who knew him from his youth,
when his feelings were warmer than they could be
latterly. From some of those who have seen the
whole course of his wonderful existence, we may,
indeed, expect information ; and it is information, not
scandal, that will be sought for.'
CHAPTER IX
MiLLiNGEN tells US that Byron, even before his arrival
in Greece, was a favourite among the people and
soldiers. Popular imagination had been kindled by
reports of his genius, his wealth, and his rank. Every-
thing that a man could perform was expected of
him ; and many a hardship and grievance was borne
patiently, in hope that on Byron's arrival everything
would be set right. The people were not disap-
pointed ; his conduct towards them after he had
landed soon made him a popular idol. It was per-
ceived that Byron was not a theoretical, but a practical,
friend to Greece ; and his repeated acts of kindness
and charity in relieving the poor and distressed, the
heavy expenses he daily incurred for the furtherance
of every plan, and every institution which he deemed
worthy of support, showed the people of Missolonghi
that Byron was not less alive to their private than he
was to their public interests. But there were some
people, of course, who felt a slight attack of that
pernicious malady known euphuistically as * the green-
eyed monster.' Mavrocordato, the Governor-General
of Western Greece, was, according to Millingen,
slightly afflicted with envy. He had imagined, when
using every means during Byron's stay at Cephalonia
105
io6 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
to induce him to come to Missolonghi, that he was
preparing for himself a powerful instrument to execute
his own designs, and that, by placing Byron in a
prominent position which would require far more
knowledge of the state of things than Byron could
possibly possess, he would helplessly drift, and
eventually fall entirely under his own guidance. But
in this Mavrocordato was entirely mistaken, for Byron
had long made up his mind as to the course which he
meant to steer, and by sheer honesty of purpose
and by the glamour of his fame his authority daily
increased, while that of Mavrocordato fell in propor-
tion, until his high-sounding title was little better
than an empty phrase. The people of Missolonghi
were fascinated by the personality of a man who had
practically thrown his whole fortune at their feet.
They openly spoke of the advantages that would
be derived by Western Greece were Byron to be
appointed its Governor-General.
* Ambitious and suspicious by nature,' says Millingen,
' Mavrocordato felt his authority aimed at. He began
by seconding his supposed rival's measures in a luke-
warm manner, whilst he endeavoured in secret to
thwart them. He was looked upon as the cause of
the rupture between the Suliotes and Lord Byron,
fearing that the latter might, with such soldiers,
become too powerful.'
Byron perceived the change in Mavrocordato's con-
duct, and from that moment lost much of the confidence
which he had at first felt in him.
' The plain, undisguised manner in which Byron
expressed himself on this subject, and the haughty
manner in which he received Mavrocordato, tended
to confirm the latter's opinion that Byron sought to
supplant him.'
BYRON AND LEICESTER STANHOPE 107
Mavrocordato thus laboured under a delusion. Far
from having ambitious views, Byron would, in Millin-
gen's opinion, have refused, if the offer had been made
to him, ever to take a part in civil administration. He
knew too well how little his impetuous character fitted
him for the tedious and intricate details of Greek affairs.
* He had come to Greece to assist her sacred cause
with his wealth, his talents, his courage ; and the only
reward he sought was a soldier's grave.'
Had Lord Byron lived, says Millingen, the mis-
understanding between these two distinguished indi-
viduals would have been merely temporary. Their
principles and love of order were the same, as also the
ends they proposed to attain. However different were
the roads upon which they marched, they would have
been sure to meet at last.
' Lord Byron,' wrote Colonel Stanhope, ' possesses
all the means of playing a great part in the glorious
revolution of Greece. He has talent ; he professes
liberal principles ; he has money ; and is inspired with
fervent and chivalrous feelings.'
Colonel Leicester Stanhope was himself deserving
of the praise which he thus bestows on Byron, the
item ' money ' being equally discarded. Colonel Stan-
hope was a chivalrous gentleman, and devoted himself
heart and soul to the regeneration of Greece. But
his views were not those of Byron. He was all for
printing-presses, freedom of the press, and schools.
Byron was all for fighting and organization in a
military sense. Their aims were the same, but their
methods entirely different. Byron recognized the
virtues of Stanhope, and never seriously opposed any
of his schemes. Stanhope was absolutely boiling over
with enthusiasm regarding the advantages of publish-
io8 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
ing a newspaper. His paramount policy, as he states
himself in a letter to Mr. Bowring, was ' to strive to
offend no one, but, on the contrary, to make all friendly
to the press.' He contended for the absolute liberty
of the press, and for publicity in every shape ! It would
be difficult to match such a contention applied to such
a period and such a people. In forwarding the third
number of the Greek Chronicle to Mr. Bowring, Stan-
hope writes: 'The last article in the Chronicle is on
Mr. Bentham. Its object is to dispose the people to
read and contemplate his works. Conviction follows.'
Byron had a peculiar antipathy to Mr. Bentham
and all his works, but he provided money to support
the Chronicle. On January 24 Colonel Stanhope
wrote to Mr. Bowring a letter which explains the
position exactly ; and a very peculiar position it was.
After asking Byron whether he will subscribe ;^5o
for the support of the Greek Chronicle, which Byron
cheerfully agreed to do. Colonel Stanhope proceeds
to ' heckle ' him. The conversation is well worth
transcribing :
' Stanhope {loquitur) : " Your lordship stated yester-
day evening that you had said to Prince Mavrocordato
that, ' were you in his place (as Governor-General of
Western Greece), you would have placed the press
under a censor,' and that he replied, ' No ; the liberty
of the press is guaranteed by the Constitution.' Now,
I wish to know whether your lordship was serious
when you made the observation, or whether you only
said so to provoke me ? If your lordship was serious,
I shall consider it my duty to communicate this affair
to the Committee in England, in order to show them
how difficult a task I have to fulfil in promoting the
liberties of Greece, if your lordship is to throw the
weight of your vast talents into the opposite scale on
a question of such vital importance."
' Byron, in reply, said that he was an ardent friend of
BYRON AND JEREMY BENTHAM 109
publicity and the press ; but he feared that it was not
apphcable to this society in its present combustible
state. Stanhope replied that he thought it applicable
to all countries, and essential in Greece, in order to
put an end to the state of anarchy which then pre-
vailed. Byron said that he was afraid of libels and
licentiousness. Stanhope maintained that the object
of a free press was to check public licentiousness and
to expose libellers to odium.'
In a subsequent letter to Mr. Bowring, Colonel
Stanhope repeats a conversation with Byron on the
subject of Mr. Bentham. One does not know whether
to laugh or cry ; there is both humour and pathos in
the incident.
'His lordship,' writes Stanhope, 'began, according
to custom, to attack Mr. Bentham. I said that it was
highly illiberal to make personal attacks on Mr.
Bentham before a friend who held him in high estima-
tion. He said that he only attacked his public
principles, which were mere theories, but dangerous —
injurious to Spain and calculated to do great mischief
in Greece. I did not object to his lordship's attacking
Mr. Bentham's principles ; what I objected to were his
personalities. His lordship never reasoned on any of
Mr. Bentham's writings, but merely made sport of
them. I therefore asked him what it was that he
objected to. Lord Byron mentioned his "Panopticon"
as visionary. I said that experience in Pennsylvania,
at Milbank, etc., had proved it otherwise. I said that
Bentham had a truly British heart ; but that Lord
Byron, after professing liberal principles from his boy-
hood, had, when called upon to act, proved himself
a Turk.
* Lord Byron asked what proofs I had of this.
'I replied : " Your conduct in endeavouring to crush
the press, by declaiming against it to Mavrocordato, and
your general abuse of Liberal principles." Lord Byron
said that if he had held up his finger he could have
crushed the press. 1 replied : " With all this power,
which, by the way, you never possessed, you went to
the Prince and poisoned his ear."
no BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
' Lord Byron declaimed against the Liberals whom
he knew.
' " But what Liberals ?" I asked. Did he borrow his
notions of free men from the Itahans ? Lord Byron
said : " No ; from the Hunts, Cartwrights, etc." " And
still," said 1, " you presented Cartwright's Reform
Bill, and aided Hunt by praising his poetry and giving
him the sale of your works."
' Lord Byron exclaimed : " You are worse than
Wilson,* and should quit the army." I replied that I
was a mere soldier, but never would abandon my
principles. Our principles,' continues Stanhope, ' are
diametrically opposite. It Lord Byron acts up to his
professions, he will be the greatest — if not, the meanest
— of mankind. He said he hoped his character did not
depend on my assertions. ** No," said I, '* your genius
has immortalized you. The worst could not deprive
you of fame."
' Lord Byron replied : " Well, you shall see ; judge
me by my acts."
' When he wished me good-night, I took up the light
* General Sir Robert Wilson (1777- 1849), commonly known as
' Jaffa Wilson,' entered Parliament in 1818. Having held Napoleon
up to horror and execration for his cruelty at Jaffa, Wilson subse-
quently became one of his strongest eulogists. Being by nature a
demagogue, he posed as a champion in the cause of freedom and
civil government ; he accused England of injustice and tyranny
towards other nations, and prophesied her speedy fall. He warmly
espoused the cause of Queen Caroline, and was present at the riot
in Hyde Park on the occasion of her funeral, wlien there was a
collision between the Horse Guards and the mob. For his conduct
on that occasion, despite a long record of gallant service in the field,
Wilson was dismissed the Army in 1821, but was reinstated on the
accession of William IV. He appears to have been both foolish and
vain, and fond of creating effect. He was constantly brooding over
services which he conceived to have been overlooked, and merits
which he fancied were neglected. He attached himself to the ultra-
radicals, and puffed himself into notoriety by swimming against the
stream. A writer in the Quarterly Review (Vol. xix,, July, 1818) says:
' The obliquity of his (Wilson's) perceptions make his talents worse
than useless as a politician, and form, even in his own profession, a
serious drawback to energy however great, and to bravery however
distinguished.'
STANHOPE NO SENSE OF HUMOUR in
to conduct him to the passage, but he said: "What!
hold up a hght to a Turk !" '
It would be difficult indeed to find anything in the
wide range of literature dealing with that period which
would throw a stronger light upon both these men.
Imagine the agent appointed by the London Com-
mittee wasting his precious time in writing such a
letter as this for the information of its chairman.
Stanhope meant no harm, we feel sure of that; but
such a letter was little calculated to advance either his
own reputation or Byron's, and it was above all things
necessary for the London Committee to have a good
opinion of both. But Stanhope was decidedly im-
petuous, and lacked all sense of humour.
Millingen tells us that it soon became evident that
little co-operation could be expected between Byron
and Colonel Stanhope. Byron was fully persuaded
that, in the degraded state of the Greek nation, a
republican form of Government was totally unsuited,
as well as incompatible with her situation, in respect
to the neighbouring States of Europe. Colonel Stan-
hope, whose enthusiasm for the cause was extreme,
supposed the Greeks to be endowed with the same
virtue which their ancestors displayed. We, who live
in the twentieth century, are able by the light of sub-
quent events to decide which of these two men held
the sounder view ; and we can honestly deplore that
a mere matter of opinion should have caused any
disagreements between two men who had sacrificed
so much in a common cause.
Gamba, who seems to have been present during the
altercation above alluded to, says that Colonel Stan-
hope, in accusing Lord Byron of being an enemy to
the press, laid himself open to a rejoinder which is
112 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
not recorded in the report of these proceedings.
Byron's reply was to the point : ' And yet, without
my money, where would your Greek newspaper be ?'
And he concluded the sentence, 'Judge me by my
actions,' cited by Stanhope, with, ' not by my words'
Colonel Stanhope could not understand Byron's
bantering moods. They seemed to him to be entirely
out of place. The more Byron laughed and joked, the
more serious Stanhope became, and their discussions
seldom ended without a strong reproof, which irritated
Byron for the moment. But so far from leaving any
unfavourable impression on Byron's mind, it increased
his regard for an antagonist of such evident sincerity :
' When parting from him one evening, after a dis-
cussion of this nature, Lord Byron went up to him, and
exclaimed : " Give me that honest right hand." Two
such men were worthy of being friends, and it is to be
regretted that an injudicious champion of the one
should, by a partial detail of their trifling differences,
try to raise him at the expense of the other.'
With the money provided by Byron, Colonel Stan-
hope's pet scheme, the Greek Chronicle, printed in
Greek type, came into being. Its editor, ' a hot-
headed republican ' named Jean Jacques Meyer, who
had been a Swiss doctor, was particularly unfitted for
the post, and soon came to loggerheads with Byron
for publishing a violent attack on the Austrian
Government. In a letter to Samuel Barff, Byron
says :
* From the very first I foretold to Colonel Stanhope
and to Prince Mavrocordato that a Greek newspaper
(as indeed any other), in the present state of Greece,
might and probably would lead to much mischief and
misconstruction, unless under some restrictions ; nor
have I ever had anything to do with it, as a writer or
MEYER'S ATTACK ON MONARCHY 113
otherwise, except as a pecuniary contributor to its
support in the outset, which I could not refuse to the
earnest request of the projectors. Colonel Stanhope
and myself had considerable differences of opinion on
this subject, and (what will appear laughable enough)
to such a degree that he charged me with despotic
principles, and I ///mwith ultra-radicalism. Dr. Meyer,
the Editor, with his unrestrained freedom of the
press, and who has the freedom to exercise an un-
limited discretion — not allowing any articles but his
own and those like them to appear — and in declaiming
against restrictions, cuts, carves, and restricts, at his
own will and pleasure. He is the author of an article
against Monarchy, of which he may have the advantage
and fame — but they (the Editors) will get themselves
into a scrape, if they do not take care. Of all petty
tyrants, he (Meyer) is one of the pettiest, as are most
demagogues that ever I knew. He is a Swiss by
birth, and a Greek by assumption, having married a
wife and changed his religion.
On the appearance of Meyer's stupid attack on
monarchy, Byron immediately suppressed the whole
edition.
Early in March the prospectus of a polyglot news-
paper, entitled the Greek Telegraphy was published at
Missolonghi. Millingen says :
' The sentiments imprudently advocated in this
prospectus induced the British authorities in the
Ionian Islands to entertain so unfavourable an impres-
sion of the spirit which would guide its conductors,
that its admission into the heptarchy was interdicted
under severe penalties. The same took place in the
Austrian States, where they began to look upon
Greece as " the city of refuge," as it were, for the
Carbonari and discontented English reformers. The
first number appeared on 20th March ; but it was
written in a tone so opposite to what had been
expected, that it might, in some degree, be considered
as a protest against its prospectus. Lord Byron was
the cause of this change. More than ever convinced
that nothing could be more useless, and even more
8
114 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
dangerous, to the interests of Greece, both at home
and abroad, than an unlimited freedom of the press,
he insisted on Count Gamba becoming Editor. Byron
cautioned him to restrict the paper to a sirnple narrative
of events as they occurred, and an unprejudiced state-
ment of opinions in respect to poHtical relations and
wants, so as to make them subjects of interest to the
friends of Greece in the western parts of Europe.'
Gamba says :
' Lord Byron's view of the politics of Greece was,
that this revolution had iittle or nothing in common
with the great struggles with which Europe had been
for thirty years distracted, and that it would be most
foolish tor the friends of Greece to mix up their cause
with that of other nations, who had attempted to change
their form of government, and by so doing to draw
down the hatred and opposition of one of the two great
parties that at present divide the civilized world.
Lord Byron's wish was to show that the contest was
simply one between barbarism and civilization —
between Christianity and Islamism — and that the
struggle was on behalf of the descendants of those
to whom we are indebted for the first principles of
science and the most perfect models of literature and
art. For such a cause he hoped that all politicians of
all parties, in every European State, might fairly be
expected to unite.'
Byron believed that the moment had arrived for
uniting the Greeks ; the approach of danger and
the chance of succour seemed favourable to his
designs.
* To be in time to defend ourselves,' said Byron, * we
have only to put in action and unite all the means the
Greeks possess ; with money we have experienced the
facility of raising troops. I cannot calculate to what
a height Greece may rise.
* Hitherto it has been a subject for the hymns and
elegies of fanatics and enthusiasts ; but now it will
draw the attention of the politician.'
DEATH OF SIR THOMAS MAITLAND 115
Early in February, 1824, Colonel Stanhope proposed
to go into the Morea, in order to co-operate in the
great work of appeasing the discords of that country.
Prince Mavrocordato wrote privately to Sir Thomas
Maitland * in the hope of averting trouble consequent
upon the infraction of the neutrality of the Ionian
territory at Ithaca, Lord Byron forwarded his letter to
Lord Sidney Osborne,t with the following explanation:
' Enclosed is a private communication from Prince
Mavrocordato to Sir Thomas Maitland, which you will
oblige me much by delivering. Sir Thomas can take
as much or as little of it as he pleases ; but I hope
and believe that it is rather calculated to conciliate
than to irritate on the subject of the late event near
Ithaca and Sta Mauro, which there is every disposition
on the part of the Government here to disavow ; and
they are also disposed to give every satisfaction in
their power. You must all be persuaded how difficult
it is, under existing circumstances, for the Greeks to
keep up discipline, however they may all be disposed
to do so. I am doing all I can to convince them of the
necessity of the strictest observance of the regulations
of the island, and, I trust, with some effect. I was
received here with every possible public and private
mark of respect. If you write to any of our friends,
you can say that I am in good health and spirits ; and
that I shall stick by the cause as long as a man of honour
can, without sparing purse, and (I hope, if need be)
person.'
This letter is dated from Missolonghi, February 9,
1824. On February 11 Byron heard the news of the
death of Sir Thomas Maitland. Parry says :
* The news certainly caused considerable satisfaction
among the Greeks, and among some of the English.
He was generally looked on by them as the great
enemy of their cause ; but there is no proof of this. I
* High Commissioner of the Ionian Islands,
t Acting as Secretary to High Commissioner.
8—2
ii6 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
know that his government has been very much cen-
sured in England, and far be it from me to approve of
the arbitrary or despotic measures of any man ; but
those who know anything of the people he had to deal
with will find, in their character, an excuse for his
conduct. I believe, in general, his government was
well calculated for his subjects.'
Parry throws light upon Byron's attitude towards
Mavrocordato, to which we alluded in a previous
chapter.
' I took an opportunity, one evening, of asking Lord
Byron what he thought of Prince Mavrocordato. He
replied he considered him an honest man and a man
of talent. He had shown his devotion to his country's
service by expending his private fortune in its cause,
and was probably the most capable and trustworthy
of all the Greek chieftains. Lord Byron said that he
agreed with Mavrocordato, that Missolonghi and its
dependencies were of the greatest importance to
Greece ; and as long as the Prince acted as he had done,
he would give him all the support in his power. Lord
Byron seemed, at the same time, to suppose that a
little more energy and industry in the Prince, with a
disposition to make fewer promises, would tend much
to his advantage.'
The following incident, related by Parry, seems to
fall naturally into this part of our narrative :
'When the Turkish fleet was blockading Misso-
longhi, I was one day ordered by Lord Byron to
accompany him to the mouth of the harbour to inspect
the fortifications, in order to make a report of the state
they were in. He and I were in his own punt, a httle
boat which he had, rowed by a boy ; and in a large boat,
accompanying us, were Prince Mavrocordato and his
attendants. As I was viewing, on one hand, the Turkish
fleet attentively, and reflecting on its powers, and our
means of defence ; and looking, on the other, at Prince
Mavrocordato and his attendants, perfectly uncon-
cerned, smoking their pipes and gossiping, as if Greece
were liberated and at peace, and Missolonghi in a
BYRON'S ABHORRENCE OF DUPLICITY 117
state of perfect security, I could not help giving vent
to a feeling of contempt and indignation.
' " What is the matter ?" said Lord Byron, appearing
to be very serious ; " what makes you so angry,
Parry ?"
* " I am not angry, my lord," I replied, " but some-
what indignant. The Turks, if they were not the
most stupid wretches breathing, might take the fort of
Vasaladi, by means of two pinnaces, any night they
pleased ; they have only to approach it with muffled
oars, they would not be heard, I will answer for their
not being seen, and they may storm it in a few
minutes. With eight gunboats properly armed with
24-pounders, they might batter both Missolonghi and
Anatolica to the ground. And there sits the old
gentlewoman, Prince Mavrocordato and his troop, to
whom I applied an epithet I will not here repeat, as if
they were all perfectly safe. They know that their
means of defence are inadequate, and they have no
means of improving them. If I were in their place, I
should be in a fever at the thought of my own in-
capacity and ignorance, and I should burn with
impatience to attempt the destruction of those stupid
Turkish rascals. The Greeks and the Turks are
opponents, worthy by their imbecility of each other."
* I had scarcely explained myself fully, when Lord
Byron ordered our boat to be placed alongside the
other, and actually related our whole conversation to
the Prince. In doing it, however, he took upon him-
self the task of pacifying both the Prince and me, and
though I was at first very angry, and the Prince, I
believe, very much annoyed, he succeeded. It was, in
fact, only Lord Byron's manner of reproving us both.
It taught me to be prudent and discreet. To the
Prince and the Greeks it probably conveyed a lesson,
which Lord Byron could have found no better means
of giving them.'
Byron was remarkably sincere and frank in all
his words and actions. Parry says that he never
harboured a thought concerning another man that he
did not express to his face ; neither could he bear
duplicity in others. If one person were to speak
ii8 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
against a third party, in Byron's presence, he would
be sure to repeat it the first time the two opponents
were in presence of one another. This was a habit,
says Parry, of which his acquaintance were well
aware, and it spared Byron the trouble of listening to
many idle and degrading calumnies. He probably
expected thereby to teach others a sincerity which he
so highly prized ; but it must be added that he derived
pleasure from witnessing the confusion of the person
thus exposed. We recognize Byron in this trait, as
none of his biographers have omitted to mention the
extraordinary indiscretion of his confidences ; but
never before was his habit of 'blabbing' turned to a
better use.
It is generally admitted that the Greeks were supine
to the last degree. Little or nothing had been done
to repair the losses resulting from the late campaign,
nor had adequate preparations been made for the
struggle in prospect. Through their improvidence,
the Greeks had neither money nor materials. Neither
in the Morea nor in Western Greece had any steps
been taken to meet an assault by the enemy. The
fortifications, that had suffered in the previous
campaign, were left in statu quo. The Greek fleet was
practically non-existent, owing to the insufficiency of
money wherewith to pay the crews. In addition to
internal dissensions, which might at any moment give
rise to a civil war, the French and English Govern-
ments were continually demanding satisfaction for
breaches of neutrality, or for acts of piracy com-
mitted by vessels of the Greek fleet, under a singular
misapprehension of the game of war. In the midst of
all these depressing conditions Byron kept his intense
enthusiasm for the cause, and whatever may have
MAVROCORDATO AND STANHOPE 119
been the errors in his policy, everyone acknowledged
the purity of his motives and the intensity of his zeal.
Prince Mavrocordato and Colonel Stanhope were
not on very good terms. The Colonel had no con-
fidence in the Prince, and, indeed, openly defied and
opposed him. His hostility to Mavrocordato became
so marked that both Greeks and English were per-
suaded that he was endeavouring to break up the
establishment at Missolonghi, and to remove all the
stores, belonging to the Committee, to Athens.
' This report,' says Parry, ' was conveyed to Lord
Byron, who had not parted with Colonel Stanhope on
very good terms, and caused him much annoyance.
He had before attributed both neglect and deceit to
the Greek Committee or some of its agents ; and this
report of the proceedings of their special and chosen
messenger made him, in the irritation of the moment,
regard them as acting even treacherously towards
himself. " By the cant of religious pretenders," he
said, " I have already deeply suffered, and now I know
what the cant of pretended reformers and philan-
thropists amounts to."*
Byron was much displeased by the neglect which
he had experienced at the hands of the London Com-
mittee, who, instead of sending supplies that would
have been of some use, sent printing-presses, maps,
and bugles. Books and Bibles were sent to a people
who wanted guns, and when they asked for a sword
they sent the lever of a printing-press. The only
wonder was that they did not send out a pack of
beagles. Colonel Stanhope, who might perhaps
have been of some use in a military capacity, began
organizing the whole country in accordance with
Mr. Bentham's views of morality and justice. In this
he acted entirely on his own responsibility, and rarely
consulted Byron or Mavrocordato before carrying his
120 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
wild schemes into execution. Byron said of him, in a
moment of exasperation :
' He is a mere schemer and talker, more of a saint
than a soldier; and, with a great deal of pretended
plainness, a mere politician, and no patriot. I thought
Colonel Stanhope, being a soldier, would have
shown himself differently. He ought to know what
a nation like Greece needs for its defence ; and should
have told the Committee that arms, and the materials
jfor carrying on war, were what the Greeks required.'
Byron placed practice before precept, and was
content to wait until the Turks had been driven out
of Greece before entering upon any scheme for the
cultivation of the soil and the development of com-
merce. He always maintained that Colonel Stanhope
began at the wrong end, and was foolish to expect, by
introducing some signs of wealth and knowledge, to
make the people of Greece both rich and intelligent.
' I hear,' said Byron, in a conversation with Parry,
* that missionaries are to be introduced before the
country is cleared of the enemy, and religious disputes
are to be added to the other sources of discord. How
very improper are such proceedings ! nothing could be
more impolitic ; it will cause ill blood throughout the
country, and very possibly be the means of again
bringing Greece under the Turkish yoke. Can it be
supposed that the Greek Priesthood, who have great
influence, and even power, will tamely submit to see
interested self-opinionated foreigners interfere with
their flocks? I say again, clear the country, teach
the people to read and write, and the labouring people
will judge for themselves.'
The vexations to which Byron was daily subjected
during his stay at Missolonghi, and the insufficiency
of the diet which he prescribed for himself against the
advice of his medical attendant, so affected his nervous
SIEGE OF LEPANTO ABANDONED 121
system, which by nature was highly irritable, that at
last he broke down. Count Gamba says :
* Lord Byron was exceedingly vexed at the necessary
abandonment of his project against Lepanto, at a time
when success seemed so probable. He had not been
able to ride that day, nor for some days, on account
of the rain. He had been extremely annoyed at the
vexations caused by the Suliotes, as also with the
various other interruptions from petitions, demands,
and remonstrances, which never left him a moment's
peace at any hour of the day. At seven in the evening
I went into his room on some business, and found him
lying on the sofa : he was not asleep, and, seeing me
enter, called out, " I am not asleep — come in — I am
not well." At eight o'clock he went downstairs to
visit Colonel Stanhope. The conversation turned
upon our newspaper. We agreed that it was not
calculated to give foreigners the necessary intelligence
of what was passing in Greece ; because, being written
in Romaic, it was not intelligible, except to a few
strangers. We resolved to publish another, in several
languages, and Lord Byron promised to furnish some
articles himself When I left the room, he was laugh-
ing and joking with Parry and the Colonel ; he was
drinking some cider.'
'&
As Gamba is no longer a witness of what actually
happened, we refer the reader to the statement of
Parry himself :
' Lord Byron's quarters were on the second-floor of
the house, and Colonel Stanhope lived on the first-
floor. In the evening, about eight o'clock. Lord
Byron came downstairs into the Colonel's room
where I was. He seated himself on a cane settee,
and began talking with me on various subjects.
Colonel Stanhope, who was employed in a neighbour-
ing apartment, fitting up printing-presses, and Count
Gamba, both came into the room for a short time,
and some conversation ensued about the newspaper,
which was never to Lord Byron a pleasant topic, as
he disagreed with his friends about it. After a little
time they went their several ways, and more agreeable
122 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
subjects were introduced. Lord Byron began joking
with me about Colonel Stanhope's occupations, and
said he thought the author would have his brigade of
artillery ready before the soldier got his printing-
press fixed. There was then nobody in the room
but his lordship, Mr. Hesketh, and myself. There
was evidently a constrained manner about Lord
Byron, and he complained of thirst. He ordered his
servant to bring him some cider, which I entreated
him not to drink in that state. There was a flush in
his countenance, which seemed to indicate great
nervous agitation ; and as I thought Lord Byron had
been much agitated and harassed for several da3^s
past, I recommended him, at least, to qualify his cider
with some brandy. He said he had frequently drunk
cider, and felt no bad consequences from it, and he
accordingly drank it off. He had scarcely drunk the
cider, when he complained of a very strange sensation,
and I noticed a great change in his countenance. He
rose from his seat, but could not walk, staggered a step
or two, and fell into my arms.
• 1 had no other stimulant than brandy at hand, and
having before seen it administered in similar cases
with considerable benefit, I succeeded in making him
swallow a small quantity. In another minute his teeth
were closed, his speech and senses gone, and he was
in strong convulsions. I laid him down on the settee,
and with the assistance of his servant kept him quiet.
'When he fell into my arms, his countenance was
very much distorted, his mouth being drawn on one
side. After a short time his medical attendant came,
and he speedily recovered his senses and his speech.
He asked for Colonel Stanhope, as he had something
particular to say to him, should there be a probability
of his not recovering. Colonel Stanhope came from
the next room. On recovering his senses, Lord
Byron's countenance assumed its ordinary appear-
ance, except that it was pale and haggard. No other
effect remained visible except great weakness.'
According to Gamba :
' Lord Byron was carried upstairs to his own bed,
and complained only of weakness. He asked whether
his attack was likely to prove fatal. " Let me know,"
A FALSE ALARM 123
he said. " Do not think I am afraid to die — I am
not." He told me that when he lost his speech he
did not lose his senses ; that he had suffered great
pain, and that he believed, if the convulsion had
lasted a minute longer, he must have died.'
The attack had been brought on by the vexations
which he had long suffered in silence, and borne
heroically. But his mode of living was a contributory
cause. He ate nothing but fish, cheese, and vege-
tables — having regulated his table, says Gamba, so as
not to cost more than 45 paras. This he did to show
that he could live on fare as simple as that of the
Greek soldiers.
Byron had scarcely recovered consciousness, when
a false alarm was brought to him that the Suliotes had
risen, and were about to attack the building where the
arms were stored.
* We ran to our arsenal,' says Gamba, ' Parr}^
ordered the artillerymen under arms : our cannon
were loaded and pointed on the approaches to the
gates ; the sentries were doubled. This alarm had
originated with two Germans, who, having taken too
much wine, and seeing a body of soldiers with their
guns in their hands proceeding towards the Seraglio,
thought that a revolution had broken out, and spread
an alarm over the whole town. As a matter of fact,
these troops were merely changing their quarters.
These Germans were so inconsiderate, that during
our absence at the arsenal they forced their way into
Byron's bedroom, swearing that they had come to
defend him and his house. Fortunately, we were not
present, for, as this was only half an hour after
Byron's attack, we should have been tempted to fling
the intruders out of the window. On the following
day B3^ron was better, and got up at noon ; but he
was very pale and weak, and complained of a sensa-
tion of weight in his head. The doctor applied eight
leeches to his temples, and the blood flowed copiously ;
it was stopped with difficulty, and he fainted.'
124 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
Dr. Millingen says that Dr. Bruno had at first
proposed opening a vein ; but finding it impossible to
obtain Byron's consent, he applied leeches to the
temples, which bled so copiously as almost to bring
on syncope. Byron, alarmed to see the difficulty
Dr. Bruno had in stopping the haemorrhage, sent for
Millingen, who, by the application of lunar caustic,
succeeded in stopping the flow of blood.
In Millingen's opinion, Byron was never the same
man after this ; a change took place in his mental and
bodily functions.
* That wonderful elasticity of disposition, that con-
tinual flow of wit, that facility of jest by which his
conversation had been so distinguished, returned only
at distant intervals,' says Millingen : * from this time
Byron fell into a state of melancholy from which none
of our arguments could relieve him. He felt certain
that his constitution had been ruined ; that he was a
worn-out man ; and that his muscular power was
gone. Flashes before his eyes, palpitations and
anxieties, hourly afflicted him ; and at times such a
sense of faintness would overpower him, that, fearing
to be attacked by similar convulsions, he would send
in great haste for medical assistance. His nervous
system was, in fact, in a continual state of erethism,
which was certainly augmented by the low, debilitating
diet which Dr. Bruno had recommended.'
On one occasion Byron said to Dr. Millingen that
he did not wish for life ; it had ceased to have any
attraction for him.
* But,' said Byron, ' the fear of two things now
haunt me. I picture myself slowly expiring on a bed
of torture, or ending my days like Swift — a grinning
idiot ! Would to Heaven the day were arrived in
which, rushing, sword in hand, on a body of Turks,
and fighting like one weary of existence, I shall meet
immediate, painless death— the object of my wishes.'
BYRON'S PERPLEXITIES 125
Two days after this seizure Byron made the follow-
ing entry in his journal :
* With regard to the presumed causes of this attack,
so far as I know, there might be several. The state of
the place and the weather permit little exercise at
present. I have been violently agitated with more
than one passion recently, and amidst conflicting
parties, politics, and (as far as regards public matters)
circumstances. I have also been in an anxious state
with regard to things which may be only interesting
to my own private feelings, and, perhaps, not uniformly
so temperate as I may generally affirm that I was wont
to be. How far any or all of these may have acted on
the mind or body of one who had already undergone
many previous changes of place and passion during
a life of thirty-six years, I cannot tell'
The following note, which is entered by Mr. Row-
land Prothero in the new edition of Lord Byron's
'Letters and Journals,'* was dashed off by Byron in
pencil, on the day of his seizure, February 15, 1824:
' Having tried in vain at great expense, considerable
trouble, and some danger, to unite the Suliotes for the
good of Greece — and their own — I have come to the
following resolution :
* I will have nothing more to do with the Suliotes.
They may go to the Turks, or the Devil, — they may
cut me into more pieces than they have dissensions
among themselves, — sooner than change my resolution.
* For the rest, I hold my means and person at the
disposal of the Greek nation and Government the
same as before.'
No better proof could be given of the perplexities
which worried him at that particular time. But the
surrounding gloom was lightened now and then by
some of Parry's stories. The following anecdote
about Jeremy Bentham was an especial favourite with
* Vol. vi., p. 326.
126 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
Byron; Parry's sea -terms and drollery doubtless
heightened its effect :
' Shortly before I left London for Greece, Mr. Bow-
ring, the honorary secretary to the Greek Committee,
informed me that Mr. Jeremy Bentham wished to see
the stores and materials, preparing for the Greeks, and
that he had done me the honour of asking me to break-
fast with him some day, that I might afterwards conduct
him to see the guns, etc.
* " Who the devil is Mr. Bentham ?" was my rough
reply ; " I never heard of him before." Many of my
readers may still be in the same state of ignorance,
and it will be acceptable to them, I hope, to hear of
the philosopher.
'"Mr. Bentham," said Mr. Bowring, "is one of the
greatest men of the age, and for the honour now
offered to you, I waited impatiently many a long day —
I believe for more than two years."
' " Great or little, I never heard of him before ; but
if he wants to see me, why I'll go."
' It was accordingly arranged that I should visit
Mr. Bentham, and that Mr. Bowring should see him
to fix the time, and then inform me. In a day or two
afterwards, I received a note from the honorary secre-
tary to say I was to breakfast with Mr. Bentham on
Saturday. It happened that I lived at a distance from
town, and having heard something of the primitive
manner of living and early hours of philosophers, I
arranged with my wife overnight that I would get up
very early on the Saturday morning, that I might not
keep Mr. Bentham waiting. Accordingly, I rose with
the dawn, dressed myself in haste, and brushed off
for Queen's Square, Westminster, as hard as my legs
could carry me. On reaching the Strand, fearing I
might be late, being rather corpulent, and not being-
willing to go into the presence of so very great a man,
as I understood Mr. Jeremy Bentham to be, puffing
and blowing, I took a hackney-coach and drove up
to his door about eight o'clock. I found a servant
girl afoot, and told her I came to breakfast with
Mr. Bentham by appointment.
'She ushered me in, and introduced me to two
young men, who looked no more like philosophers,
JEREMY BENTHAM'S CRUISE 127
however, than my own children. I thought they
might be Mr. Bentham's sons, but this, I understood,
was a mistake. I showed them the note I had received
from Mr. Bowring, and they told me Mr. Bentham did
not breakfast till three o'clock. This surprised me
much, but they told me I might breakfast with them,
which I did, though 1 was not much flattered by the
honour of sitting down with Mr. Bentham's clerks,
when I was invited by their master. Poor Mr. Bow-
ring! thought I, he must be a meek-spirited young
man if it was for this he waited so impatiently. I
supposed the philosopher himself did not get up till
noon, as he did not breakfast till so late, but in this
I was also mistaken. About ten o'clock I was sum-
moned to his presence, and mustered up all my courage
and all my ideas for the meeting. His appearance
struck me forcibly. His thin white locks, cut straight
in the fashion of the Quakers, and hanging, or rather
floating, on his shoulders ; his garments something of
Quaker colour and cut, and his frame rather square
and muscular, with no exuberance of flesh, made up a
singular-looking and not an inelegant old man. He
welcomed me with a few hurried words, but without
any ceremony, and then conducted me into several
rooms to show me his ammunition and materials of
war. One very large room was nearly filled with
books, and another with unbound works, which, I
understood, were the philosopher's own composition.
The former, he said, furnished him his supplies ; and
there was a great deal of labour required to read so
many volumes. I said inadvertently, " I suppose you
have quite forgotten what is said in the first before
you read the last." Mr. Bentham, however, took this
m good part, and, taking hold of my arm, said we
would proceed on our journey. Accordingly, off we
set, accompanied by one of his young men carrying
a portfolio, to keep, I suppose, a log of our proceedings.
' We went through a small garden, and, passing out
of a gate, I found we were in St. James's Park. Here
I noticed that Mr. Bentham had a very snug dwelling,
with many accommodations, and such a garden as
belongs in London only to the first nobility. But for
his neighbours, I thought — for he has a barrack of
soldiers on one side of his premises — I should envy
128 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
him his garden more than his great reputation. On
looking at him, I could but admire his nale, and even
venerable, appearance. I understood he was seventy-
three years of age, and therefore I concluded we
should have a quiet, comfortable walk. Very much to
my surprise, however, we had scarcely got into the
Park, when he let go my arm, and set off trotting like
a Highland messenger. The Park was crowded, and
the people one and all seemed to stare at the old
man ; but, heedless of all this, he trotted on, his white
locks floating in the wind, as if he were not seen by a
single human being.
As soon as I could recover from my surprise, I
asked the young man, " Is Mr. Bentham flighty ?"
pointing to my head. " Oh no, it's his way," was the
hurried answer ; " he thinks it good for his health.
But I must run after him ;" and off set the youth in
chase of the philosopher. I must not lose my com-
panions, thought I, and off I set also. Of course the
eyes of every human being in the Park were fixed on
the running veteran and his pursuers. There was
Jerry ahead, then came his clerk and his portfolio,
and I, being a heavier sailer than either, was bringing
up the rear.
* What the people might think, I don't know; but it
seemed to me a very strange scene, and I was not
much delighted at being made such an object of
attraction. Mr. Bentham's activity surprised me, and
I never overtook him or came near him till we reached
the Horse Guards, where his speed was checked by
the Blues drawn up in array. Here we threaded in
amongst horses and men till we escaped at the other
gate into Whitehall. I now thought the crowded
streets would prevent any more racing ; but several
times he escaped from us, and trotted off, compelling
us to trot after him till we reached Mr. Galloway's
manufactory in Smithfield. Here he exulted in his
activity, and inquired particularly if I had ever seen a
man at his time of life so active. I could not possibly
answer no, while I was almost breathless with the
exertion of following him through the crowded streets.
After seeing at Mr. Galloway's manufactory, not only
the things which had been prepared for the Greeks,
but his other engines and machines, we proceeded to
JEREMY BENTHAM'S CRUISE 129
another manufactory at the foot of Southwark Bridge,
where our brigade of guns stood ready mounted.
When Mr. Bentham had satisfied his curiosity here
also, and I had given him every information in my
power, we set off to return to his house, that he might
breakfast ; I endeavoured to persuade him to take
a hackney-coach, but in vain. We got on tolerably
well, and without any adventures, tragical or comical,
till we arrived at Fleet Street. We crossed from
Fleet Market over towards Mr. Waithman's shop, and
here, letting go my arm, he quitted the foot pavement,
and set off again in one of his vagaries up Fleet Street.
His clerk again set off after him, and I again followed.
The race here excited universal attention. The per-
ambulating ladies, who are always in great numbers
about that part of the town, and ready to laugh at any
kind of oddity, and catch hold of every simpleton,
stood and stared at or followed the venerable philos-
opher. One of them, well known to all the neighbour-
hood by the appellation of the City Barge, given to
her on account of her extraordinary bulk, was coming
with a consort full sail down Fleet Street, but when-
ever they saw the flight of Mr. Jeremy Bentham they
hove to, tacked, and followed to witness the fun or
share the prize. I was heartily ashamed of partici-
pating in this scene, and supposed that everybody
would take me for a mad doctor, the young man
for my assistant, and Mr. Bentham for my patient, just
broke adrift from his keepers.
'Fortunately the chase did not continue long. Mr.
Bentham hove to abreast of Carlisle's shop, and stood
for a little time to admire the books and portraits
hanging in the window. At length one of them
arrested his attention more particularly. " Ah, ah,"
said he, in a hurried indistinct tone, " there it is, there
it is !" pointing to a portrait which I afterwards found
was that of the illustrious Jeremy himself.
'Soon after this, I invented an excuse to quit Mr.
Bentham and his man, promising to go to Queen's
Square to dine. I was not, however, to be again
taken in by the philosopher's meal hours ; so, laying
in a stock of provisions, I went at his dining hour,
half-past ten o'clock, and supped with him. We had
a great deal of conversation, particularly about
I30 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
mechanical subjects and the art of war. I found the
old gentleman as lively with his tongue as with his
feet, and passed a very pleasant evening ; which ended
by my pointing out, at his request, a plan for playing his
organ by the steam of his tea-kettle.
' This little story,' says Parry, ' gave Byron a great
deal of pleasure. ' He very often laughed as I told it ;
he laughed much at its conclusion. He declared,
when he had fished out every little circumstance, that
he would not have lost it for i,ooo guineas. Lord Byron
frequently asked me to repeat what he called : Jerry
Bentham's Cruise.'
Parry tells us that Byron took a great interest in all
that concerned the welfare of the working classes, and
particularly of the artisans.
' I have lately read,' said Byron on one occasion, ' of
an institution lately established in London for the
instruction of mechanics. I highly approve of this,
and intend to subscribe ^50 to it; but I shall at the
same time write and give my opinion on the subject.
I am always afraid that schemes of this kind are
intended to deceive people; and, unless all the offices
in such an institution are filled with real practical
mechanics, the working classes will soon find them-
selves deceived. If they permit any but mechanics
to have the direction of their affairs, they will only
become the tools of others. The real working man
will soon be ousted, and his more cunning pretended
friends will take possession and reap all the benefits.
It gives me pleasure to think what a mass of natural
intellect this will call into action. If the plan succeeds,
and I hope it may, the ancient aristocracy of England
will be secure for ages to come. The most useful and
numerous body of people in the nation will then judge
for themselves, and, when properly informed, will
judge correctly. There is not on earth a more honour-
able body of men than the English nobility ; and there
is no system of government under which life and
property are better secured than under the British
constitution.
' The mechanics and working classes who can main-
tain their families are, in my opinion, the happiest
BYRON'S VIEWS ON AMERICA 131
body of men. Poverty is wretchedness ; but it is
perhaps to be preferred to the heartless, unmeaning
dissipation of the higher orders. I am thankful that I
am now entirely clear of this, and my resolution to
remain clear of it for the rest of my life is immutable.'
Parry remarks that it would be folly to attribute to
Byron any love for democracy, as the term was then
understood. Although the bent of his mind was more
Liberal than Conservative, he was not a party man in
its narrow sense. He was a sworn foe to injustice,
cruelty, and oppression ; such was the alpha and
omega of his political prejudices. He would be an
inveterate enemy to any Government which oppressed
one class for the benefit of another class, and which did
not allow its subjects to be free and happy.
In speaking of America, Byron said :
' I have always thought the mode in w^hich the
Americans separated from Great Britain was un-
fortunate for them. It made them despise or regret
everything English. They disinherited themselves of
all the historical glory of England ; there was nothing
left for them to admire or venerate but their own
immediate success, and they became egotists, like
savages, from wanting a history. The spirit of
jealousy and animosity excited by the contests
between England and America is now subsiding.
Should peace continue, prejudices on both sides will
gradually decrease. Already the Americans are
beginning, I think, to cultivate the antiquities of
England, and, as they extend their inquiries, they will
find other objects of admiration besides themselves.
It was of some importance, both for them and for us,
that they did not reject our language with our govern-
ment. Time, I should hope, will approximate the
institutions of both countries to one another ; and the
use of the same language will do more to unite the
two nations than if they both had only one King.'
I'M^^iue
CHAPTER X
According to Gamba's journal, on the day following
the seizure to which we have referred, Byron followed
up his former efforts to inculcate the principles and
practice of humanity into both the nations engaged in
the war. There were twenty-four Turks, including
women and children, who had suffered all the rigours
of captivity at Missolonghi since the beginning of the
revolution. Byron caused them to be released, and
sent at his own cost to Prevesa. The following letter,
which he addressed to the English Consul at that port,
deserves a place in this record :
' Sir,
Coming to Greece, one of my principal objects
was to alleviate as much as possible the miseries
incident to a warfare so cruel as the present. When
the dictates of humanity are in question, I know no
difference between Turks and Greeks. It is enough
that those who want assistance are men, in order to
claim the pity and protection of the meanest pretender
to humane feelings. I have found here twenty-four
Turks, including women and children, who have long-
pined in distress, far from the means of support and
the consolations of their home. The Government has
consigned them to me : I transmit them to Prevesa,
whither they desire to be sent. I hope you will not
object to take care that they may be restored to a place
of safety, and that the Governor of your town may
accept of my present. The best recompense I can
hope for would be to find that I had inspired the
132
THE RELEASE OF PRISONERS 133
Ottoman commanders with the same sentiments
towards those unhappy Greeks who may hereafter
fall into their hands.
' I beg you to believe me, etc.,
* Noel Byron.'
The details of this incident have hitherto passed
almost unnoticed. The whole story is full of pathos,
and affords a view of Byron's real character.
In June, 182 1, when Missolonghi and Anatolico
proclaimed themselves parts of independent Greece,
all Turkish residents were arrested. The males were
cruelly put to death, and their wives and families
were handed over to the Greek householders as
slaves. The miseries these defenceless people endured
while Death stared them daily in the face are in-
describable. Millingen says :
* One day, as I entered the dispensary, I found the
wife of one of the Turkish inhabitants of Missolonghi
who had fled to Patras. The poor woman came to
implore my pity, and begged me to allow her to take
shelter under my roof from the brutality and cruelty
of the Greeks. They had murdered all her relations,
and two of her boys ; and the marks remained on
the angle of the wall against which, a few weeks pre-
viously, they had dashed the brains of the youngest,
only five years of age. A little girl, nine years old,
remained to be the only companion of her misery.
Like a timid lamb, she stood by her mother, naked
and shivering, drawing closer and closer to her side.
Her little hands were folded like a suppliant's, and
her large, beautiful eyes — so accustomed to see acts
of horror and cruelty — looked at me now and then,
hardly daring to implore pity. " Take us," said the
mother ; " we will serve you and be your slaves ; or
you will be responsible before God for whatever
may happen to us."
' I could not see so eloquent a picture of distress
unmoved, and from that day I treated them as
relatives. Some weeks after, I happened to mention
134 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
before Lord Byron some circumstances relative to
these individuals, and spoke with so much admiration
of the noble fortitude displayed by the mother in the
midst of her calamities ; of the courage with which
maternal love inspired her on several occasions ; of
the dignified manner in which she replied to the
insults of her persecutors, that he expressed a wish
to see the mother and child. On doing so, he became
so struck by Hataje's beauty, the naivete of her
answers, and the spiritedness of her observations on
the murderers of her brethren, that he decided on
adopting her. " Banish fear for ever from your mind,"
said he to the mother ; '* your child shall henceforth
be mine. I have a daughter in England. To her I
will send the child. They are both of the same age ;
and as she is alone, she will, no doubt, like a com-
E anion who may, at times, talk to her of her father.
>o not shudder at the idea of changing your religion,
for I insist on your professing none other but the
Musulman."
'She seized his hand, kissed it with energy, and
raising her eyes to heaven, eyes now filled with tears,
she repeated the familiar words : " Allah is great !"
Byron ordered costly dresses to be made for them,
and sent to Hataje a necklace of sequins. He desired
me to send them twice a week to his house. He would
then take the little child on his knees, and caress her
with all the fondness of a father.
* From the moment I received the mother and child
into my house, the other unfortunate Turkish women,
who had miraculously escaped the general slaughter,
seeing how different were the feelings and treatment
of the English towards their nation and sex from those
of the Greeks, began to feel more hopeful of their lot in
life. They daily called at my lodgings, and by means
of my servant, a Suliote who spoke Turkish fluently,
narrated their misfortunes, and the numberless horrors
of which they had been spectators. One woman said:
" Our fears are not yet over; we are kept as victims
for future sacrifices, hourly expecting our doom. An
unpleasant piece of news, a drunken party, a fit of ill-
humour or of caprice, may decide our fate. We are
then hunted down the streets like wild beasts, till
some one of us, or of our children, is immolated to
I
HATAJ£ 135
their insatiable cruelty. Our only hope centres in
you. One word of yours to Lord Byron can save
many lives. Can you refuse to speak for us. Let
Lord Byron send us to any part of Turkey. We are
women and children ; can the Greeks fear us ?"
' I hastened to give Lord Byron a faithful picture of
the position of these wretched people. Knowing and
relieving the distressed were, with him, simultaneous
actions. A few days later notice was given to every
Turkish woman to prepare for departure. All, a few
excepted, embarked and were conveyed at Byron's
expense to Prevesa. They amounted to twenty-two.
A few days previously four Turkish prisoners had
been sent by him to Patras. Repeated examples of
humanity like these were for the Greeks more useful
and appropriate lessons than the finest compositions
which all the printing-presses could have spread
amongst them.*
Hataj^ ! and what became of little Hataj^ ? On
February 23 Byron wrote to his sister :
* I have been obtaining the release of about nine-and-
twenty Turkish prisoners — men, women, and children
— and have sent them home to their friends ; but one,
a pretty little girl of nine years of age named Hato or
Hatagee, has expressed a strong wish to remain with
me, or under my care, and I have nearly determined
to adopt her. If I thought that Lady B. would
let her come to England as a companion to Ada (they
are about the same age), and we could easily provide
for her ; if not, I can send her to Italy for education.
She is very lively and quick, and with great black
Oriental eyes and Asiatic features. All her brothers
were killed in the Revolution ; her mother wishes to
return to her husband, but says that she would rather
entrust the child to me, in the present state of the
country. Her extreme youth and sex have hitherto
saved her life, but there is no saying what might
occur in the course of the war (and of such a war), and
I shall probably commit her to the charge of some
English lady in the islands for the present. The
child herself has the same wish, and seems to have a
136 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
decided character for her age. You can mention this
matter if you think it worth while. I merely wish
her to be respectably educated and treated, and, if
my years and all things be considered, I presume it
would be difficult to conceive me to have any other
views.'
Meanwhile, Byron, wishing to remove the child
from Missolonghi, seems to have proposed to Dr.
Kennedy at Cephalonia that Mrs. Kennedy should
take temporary charge of her. Writing to Kennedy
on March 4, 1824, Byron says :
' Your future convert Hato, or Hatag^e, appears to
me lively, intelligent, and promising; she possesses
an interesting countenance. With regard to her dis-
position I can say little, but Millingen speaks well of
both mother and daughter, and he is to be relied on.
As far as I know, I have only seen the child a few
times with her mother, and what I have seen is
favourable, or I should not take so much interest in
her behalf. If she turns out well, my idea would be
to send her to my daughter in England (if not to
respectable persons in Italy), and so to provide for
her as to enable her to live with reputation either
singly or in marriage, if she arrive at maturity. I
will make proper arrangements about her expenses
through Messrs. Barff and Hancock, and the rest I
leave to your discretion, and to Mrs. K.'s, with a great
sense of obligation for your kindness in undertaking
her temporary superintendence.'
This arrangement fell through, and was never
carried out. The child remained at Missolonghi
with her mother until Byron's death. Then, by
the irony of fate, they departed in the Florida —
the vessel that bore the dead body of their pro-
tector to the inhospitable lazaretto at Zante. With
wonderful prophetic instinct, Byron, long before his
vo^^age to Greece, gave to the world the vision of
hatajIl is sent to PATRAS 137
another Hataje, rescued from death on the field of
battle :
' The Moslem orphan went with her protector,
For she was homeless, houseless, helpless; all
Her friends, like the sad family of Hector,
Had perished in the lield or by the wall :
Her very place of birth was but a spectre
Of what it had been ; there the Muezzin's call
To prayer was heard no more — and Juan wept.
And made a vow to shield her, which he kept.'
Blaquiere, who was at Zante when the Florida was
placed in quarantine, says :
' The child, whom I have frequently seen in the
lazaretto, is extremely interesting, and about eight
years of age. She came over with Byron's body,
under her mother's care. They had not been here
man}^ days, before an application came from Usouff
Pacha, to give them up. It being customary, when-
ever claims of this kind are made, to consult the
parties themselves, both the mother and her child
were questioned as to their wishes on the subject.
The latter, with tears in her eyes, said that, had his
lordship lived, she would always have considered
him as a father; but as he was no more, she preferred
going back to her own country. The mother having
expressed the same wish, they were sent to Patras.'
According to Millingen, when Hataje and her
mother arrived at Patras, the child's father received
them in a transport of joy. ' I thought you slaves,'
said the father in embracing them, ' and, lo ! you
return to me decked like brides.'
And that is all that we know — all, we suppose, that
can be known — of little Hataje ! She may still be
alive, the last survivor of those who had spoken to
Byron ! If, in her ninety-third year, she still recalls
the events of 1824, she will hold up the torch with
modest pride, while the present writer commemorates
138 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
one, out of many, of the noble actions performed by
the poet Byron.
' This special honour was conferred, because
He had behaved with courage and humanity —
Which last men Hke, when they have time to pause
From their ferocities produced by vanity.
His little captive gained him some applause
For saving her amidst the wild insanity
Of carnage — and I think he was more glad in her
Safety, than his new order of St. Vladimir.'
Don Juan, Canto VHI., CXL.
CHAPTER XI
On February 17 there was great excitement at Misso-
longhi on account of a Turkish brig-of-vvar, which had
run ashore on a sand-bank about seven miles from the
city.
Byron sent for Parry, and accosted him in his
livehest manner :
' Now's the day, Parry, and now's the hour ; now
for your rockets, your fire-kites, and red-hot shots ;
now, Parry, for your Grecian fires. Onward, death or
victory !'
Byron was still so weak that he could not rise from
the sofa ; but all the available soldiers manned the
Greek boats, and set off in the hope of plunder.
Parry and some other European officers went out to
reconnoitre the brig, and discovered a broad and long
neck of land, which separated the shallows from the
sea, upon which it would be easy to plant a couple of
guns and make an attack upon the brig. Parry sa3'^s
that he had only two guns fit for immediate service —
a long three-pounder and a howitzer. The attack
was to be made on the following day, and Byron
gave orders that, in the event of any prisoners being
taken, their lives were, if possible, to be spared. He
offered to pay two dollars a head for each prisoner
saved, to pay something more for officers, and have
them cared for at Missolonghi at his own expense. He
139
140 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
also gave strict orders that the artillery brigade
should be kept in reserve, so as to relieve and protect
the Turkish prisoners. Early on the following day
the guns were shipped, but, unfortunately, the boats
ran aground, and much valuable time was lost. Mean-
while three Turkish brigs came to the rescue, and
got into position so as to enfilade the beach. They
manned their boats and tried to haul the brig into
deep water, but without success ; and seeing the
Greeks preparing to attack, they thought it better to
sheer off. But before doing so they managed to
remove all the men, and as many of the brig's stores
as they could save, and then set the vessel on fire.
Although Byron was disappointed in not having
captured a prize, he was glad to hear that the brig
had been burnt to the water's edge. It was estimated
that the loss of that vessel to the enemy would
amount to nearly 20,000 dollars, and the little
garrison of Missolonghi was highly elated at so
important an achievement.
On February 19 a serious event occurred, which
caused something like a revolution at Missolonghi,
and might have been attended with more serious con-
sequences if Byron had not shown a firm hand. It is
thus related by Millingen :
' A sentry had been placed at the gate of the
Seraglio to prevent anyone who did not belong to
the laboratory from entering. A Suliote named Toti,
presented himself, and, without paying the slightest
attention to the prohibition, boldly walked in. Lieu-
tenant Sass, a Swede, informed of this, came up to the
Suliote, and, pushing him roughly, ordered him to go
out. On his refusal the officer drew his sword and
struck him with its flat side. Incensed at this, the
Suliote, who was of Herculean strength, cut the
Swede's left arm almost entirely off with one stroke
DEATH OF LIEUTENANT SASS 141
of his yataghan, and immediately after shot him
through the head. The soldiers belonging to the
artillery brigade shut the gate, and after inflicting
several wounds on Toti, who continued to defend
himself, succeeded in securing him. His country-
men, with whom he was a favourite, being informed
of the accident, hastened to the Seraglio, and would
have proceeded to acts of violence, had not their
comrade been delivered into their hands. The next
morning Lieutenant Sass was buried with military
honours. The Suliotes attended the funeral ; and thus
terminated the temporary misunderstanding between
them and the Franks.'
It appears, from Gamba's account of this unfortunate
affair, that Lieutenant Sass was universally esteemed
as one of the best and bravest of the foreigners in the
service of Greece. The Suliote chiefs laid all the
blame of this affray on Sass himself, whose impru-
dence in striking one of the proud and warlike race
cannot be justified.
The Suliotes had already given many proofs ot
lawless insubordination, and several skirmishes had
previously taken place between them and the people
of Missolonghi. This last affair brought matters to
a head, and Byron agreed, with the Primates and
Mavrocordato, that these lawless troops must, at any
cost, be got rid of.
Not only did their presence at Missolonghi alarm
its inhabitants, but their fighting value had diminished,
owing to their determination not to take any part in
the projected siege of Lepanto, alleging as a reason
that they were not disposed to fight against stone
walls. Thear dismissal was, however, not an easy
matter, for they were practically masters of the city,
and claimed 3,000 dollars as arrears of pay. The
Primates, being applied to by Byron, declared that
142 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
they had no money. Under these circumstances it
became absolutely necessary for Byron to find the
money himself, which he did on the understanding
that the Primates bound themselves to clear the town
of this turbulent band. Upon payment of this money
the Suliotes packed up their effects, and departed for
Arta, thus putting an end to all Byron's hopes of
capturing the fortress of Lepanto. A report was at
this time circulated in Missolonghi that the Turkish
authorities had set a price on the lives of all Europeans
engaged in the Greek service. This rumour added
enormously to the difficulties of the situation ; for the
artificers, whom Parry had brought out from England
to work in the arsenal, struck work, and applied to
Byron for permission to return home. They said
that they had bargained to be conducted into a place
of safety. Byron tried, says Gamba, to persuade
them that the affray had been accidental, that, after
the departure of the Suliotes, nothing of the kind
would happen again, and so long as he himself
remained there could not be any serious danger.
But all arguments were useless ; the men were
thoroughly demoralized, and went from Byron's
presence unshaken in their resolve to return to their
native land.
B3'ron, writing to Kennedy on March lo, says with
his usual good-nature :
* The mechanics were all pretty much of the same
mind. Perhaps they are less to blame than is imagined,
since Colonel Stanhope is said to have told them that
he could not positively say their lives were safe. I should
like to know zvhere our life is safe, either here or any-
where else ? With regard to a place of safety, at
least such hermetically sealed safety as these persons
appeared to desiderate, it is not to be found in Greece,
ENGLISH ARTIFICERS LEAVE 143
at any rate ; but Missolonghi was supposed to be the
place where they would be useful, and their risk was
no greater than that of others.'
In a letter to Barff, some days later, Byron once
more alludes to these artificers, whose absence began
to be seriously felt at the arsenal :
* Captain Parry will write to you himself on the
subject of the artificers' wages, but, with all due allow-
ance for their situation, I cannot see a great deal to
pity in their circumstances. They were well paid,
housed and fed, expenses granted of every kind, and
they marched off at the first alarm. Were they more
exposed than the rest ? or so much ? Neither are they
very much embarrassed, for Captain Parry says that
he knows all of them have money, and one in par-
ticular a considerable sum.'
These are the men in whose interests Byron had
written to Barff :
' Six Englishmen will soon be in quarantine at
Zante ; they are artificers, and have had enough of
Greece in fourteen days ; if you could recommend
them to a passage home, I would thank you ; they are
good men enough, but do not quite understand the
little discrepancies in these countries, and are not
used to see shooting and slashing in a domestic quiet
way, or (as it forms here) a part of housekeeping. If
they should want anything during their quarantine,
you can advance them not more than a dollar a day
(amongst them) for that period, to purchase them some
little extras as comforts (as they are quite out of their
element). I cannot afford them more at present. I'he
Committee pays their passage.'
Byron was exceedingly vexed by these proceedings,
and began to lose all hope of being of any real service
to the Greeks. He told Gamba that he had lost time,
money, patience, and even health, only to meet with
deception, calumny, and ingratitude. Gamba begged
144 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
Byron to visit Athens, partly for the benefit of his
health, and partly to be quit for a time from the
daily annoyances to which he was subjected. But he
refused, and determined to remain in that dismal
swamp until he saw what turn things would take in
the Morea, and until he received news of the success
of the loan from London. He resolved meanwhile to
fortify Missolonghi and Anatolico, and to drill the
Greek troops into something like discipline.
In order to reorganize the artillery brigade, Byron
agreed to furnish money which would encourage the
Greeks to enlist. Artillery was the only arm that it
was possible to form, as there were no muskets
with bayonets suitable for infantry regiments, and the
artillery was deficient both in officers and men. With
great difficulty Parry succeeded in collecting some
Greek artificers, and made some slight progress with
his laboratory.
The weather improved, and Byron was able to take
long rides, which had an excellent effect on his health
and spirits. Artillery recruits came in faster than
was expected, and were regularly trained for efficient
service. It seemed as though the tide had turned.
At about this time Byron received a letter from
Mr. Barff, strongly urging his return to Zante for
the purpose of regaining his usual health, which it
was feared he would not attain at Missolonghi. Byron
was touched by this mark of friendship, but would not
grasp the hand that might have saved his life,
* I am extremely obliged by your offer of your
country house (as for all other kindness), in case that
m}^ health should require any 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.
<M.
BYRON'S SULIOTE GUARD 145
I must stand by the cause. While I say this, I am
aware of the difficulties, dissensions, and defects of
the Greeks themselves ; but allowances must be made
for them by all reasonable people.'
It may seem strange, but it is nevertheless certain,
that Byron found more pleasure in the society of
Parry, that 'rough, burly fellow,' than he did in the
companionship of anyone else at Missolonghi. He
thoroughly trusted the man, and even confided in him
without reserve. Parry appreciated the honour of
Byron's intimacy, and his evidence of what passed
during the last few weeks of Byron's life is, so far as
we are able to judge, quite reliable. He tells us that
Byron had taken a small body of Suliotes into his
own pay, and kept them about his person as a body-
guard. They consisted altogether of fifty-six men,
and of these a certain number were always on duty.
A large outer room in Byron's house was used by
them, and their carbines were hung upon its walls.
' In this room,' says Parry, ' and among these rude
soldiers. Lord Byron was accustomed to walk a great
deal, especially in wet weather. On these occasions
he was almost always accompanied by his favourite
dog, Lion, who was perhaps his dearest and most
affectionate friend. They were, indeed, very seldom
separated. Riding or walking, sitting or standing,
Lion was his constant attendant. He can scarcely be
said to have forsaken him even in sleep. Every
evening Lion went to see that his master was safe
before he lay down himself, and then he took his
station close to his door, a guard certainly as faithful
as Lord Byron's Suliotes.
* With Lion Lord Byron was accustomed, not only
to associate, but to commune very much. His most
usual phrase was, " Lion, you are no rogue. Lion "; or,
'* Lion, thou art an honest fellow. Lion." The dog's
eyes sparkled, and his tail swept the floor, as he sat
with haunches on the ground. " Thou art more faith-
10
146 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
ful than men, Lion ; I trust thee more." Lion sprang
up, and barked, and bounded round his master, as
much as to say, " You may trust me ; 1 will watch
actively on every side." Then Byron would fondle
the dog, and say, " Lion, I love thee ; thou art my
faithful dog!" and Lion jumped and kissed his master's
hand, by way of acknowledgment. In this manner,
when in the dog's company, Byron passed a good deal
of time, and seemed more contented and happy than
at any other hour during the day. This valuable and
affectionate animal was, after Byron's death, brought
to England and placed under the care of Mrs. Leigh,
his lordship's sister.'
Parry gives a graphic description of the state of
Missolonghi during this period, which compelled
Byron to take a circuitous route whenever the state of
the weather permitted him to ride. The pavements
and condition of the streets were so bad that it was
impossible to ride through them without the risk of
breaking one's neck.
' Lord Byron's horses were therefore generally led
to the gate of the town, while his lordship, in a small
punt, was rowed along the harbour, and up what is
called the Military Canal. This terminates not far
from the gate; here he would land, and mount his
horse.'
The Suliote guard always attended Byron during
his rides ; and, though on foot, it was surprising to
see their swiftness, says Parry. With carbines
carried at the trail in their right hands, these agile
mountaineers kept pace with the horses, even when
Byron went at a gallop. It was a matter of honour
with these Suliotes never to desert their chief; for
they considered themselves responsible both to Greece
and to England for his safety. Parry says :
' They were tall men, and remarkably well formed.
Perhaps, taken all together, no Sovereign in Europe
BYRON ATTENDS PARADES 147
could boast of having a finer set of men for his body-
guard.'
Byron while in Greece abandoned his habit of
spending the whole morning in bed, as was his custom
in Italy. He rose at nine o'clock, and breakfasted at
ten. This meal consisted of tea without either milk or
sugar, dry toast, and water-cresses.
' During his breakfast,' says Parry, * I generally
waited on him to make the necessary reports, and to
take his orders for the work of the day. When this
business was settled, I retired to give the orders
which I had received, and returned to Lord Byron by
eleven o'clock at latest. His lordship would then
inspect the accounts, and, with the assistance of his
secretary, checked every item in a business - like
manner. If the weather permitted, he afterwards
rode out; if it did not, he used to amuse himself by
shooting at a mark with pistols. Though his hand
trembled much, his aim was sure, and he could hit an
egg four times out of five at a distance often or twelve
yards.'
After an early dinner, composed of dried toast,
vegetables, and cheese, with a very small quantity of
wine or cider (Parry assures us that he never drank
any spirituous liquors during any part of the day or
night). Byron would attend the drilling of the officers
of his corps, in an outer apartment of his own dwell-
ing, and went through all the exercises which it was
proper for them to learn. When this was finished he
very often played a bout of singlestick, or underwent
some other severe muscular exertion. He then retired
for the evening, to spin yarns with his friends or to
study military tactics. Parry says :
' At eleven o'clock I left him, and I was generally
the last person he saw, except his servants. He then
retired, not to sleep, but to study. Till nearly four
10—2
148 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
o'clock every morning Byron was continually engaged
reading or writing, and rarely slept more than five
hours. In this manner did he pass nearly every day
of the time I had the pleasure of knowing him.'
It was at the end of February that Mr. George
Finlay, who afterwards wrote a ' History of Greece,'
arrived at Missolonghi. He brought a message
from Odysseus, and also from Edward Trelawny,
inviting both Byron and Mavrocordato to a Con-
ference at Salona. Gamba, writing on February 28,
1824, says :
* We had news from the Morea that their discords
were almost at an end. The Government was daily
acquiring credit. . . . On the whole, Greek affairs
appeared to take as favourable an aspect as we could
well desire. . . . My Lord and Prince Mavrocordato
have settled to go to Salona in a fortnight.'
On the following day Gamba wrote in his journal
these ominous words :
* Lord Byron is indisposed. He complained to me
that he was often attacked by vertigoes, which made
him feel as if intoxicated. He had also very disagree-
able nervous sensations, which he said resembled the
feeling of fear, although he knew there was no cause
for alarm. The weather got worse, and he could not
ride on horseback.'
On March 13 all the shops in the town of Missolonghi
were shut, owing to a report that there was a case of the
plague there. It seems that a Greek merchant who
came from Gastuni was attacked with violent sickness
and died within a few hours. After death several
black pustules appeared on his face, arms, and back.
The doctors were undecided as to whether it was a
case of poisoning or of plague. It was ascertained
A SCARE OF PLAGUE 149
that great mortality prevailed at Gastuni, but whether
the plague or a fever was not known. Every possible
precaution was taken to prevent infection, and the
greatest alarm prevailed in the town. Everyone
walked with a stick, to keep off the passer-by. It was
realized by the doctors that, in a country so devoid o
cleanliness, the plague would make alarming strides.
Byron sent an express to Zante to communicate the
intelligence to the Resident, and began to make plans
for going into the mountains if the plague broke out.
On the following day news arrived from Gastuni that
there were no cases of the plague there. This intelli-
gence restored a general confidence, and business was
resumed as usual. Meanwhile, says Gamba,
* the drilling of our company made great progress, and
in three or four weeks we should have been ready to
take the field. We exercised the brigade in all sorts
of movements. Lord Byron joined us, and practised
with us at the sabre and foil : notwithstanding his
lameness, he was very adroit.*
The following anecdote, which is given on the
authority of Parry, will show the respect in which
Byron was held by the peasants in Greece :
' Byron one day returned from his ride more than
usually pleased. An interesting country-woman, with
a fine family, had come out of her cottage and pre-
sented him with a curd cheese and some honey, and
could not be persuaded to accept payment for it.
'" I have felt," he said, " more pleasure this day, and
at this circumstance, than for a long time past." Then,
describing to me where he had seen her, he ordered
me to find her out, and make her a present in return.
"The peasantry," he said, "are by far the most kind,
humane, and honest part of the population ; they
redeem the character of their countrymen. The other
classes are so debased by slavery — accustomed, like
all slaves, never to speak truth, but only what will
ISO BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
please their masters — that they cannot be trusted.
Greece would not be worth saving but for the
peasantry."
* Lord Byron then sat down to his cheese, and
insisted on our partaking of his fare. A bottle of
porter was sent for and broached, that we might join
Byron in drinking health and happiness to the kind
family, which had procured him so great a pleasure.'
CHAPTER XII
It has been suggested by Byron's enemies that he
flattered himself with the notion of some day becoming
King of Greece, and that his conduct during the
latter part of his life was influenced by ambition.
The idea is, of course, absurd. No one knew better
than Byron that the Greek leaders were not disposed
to accept a King at that time. He also knew that, in
order to attain that position, it would have been
necessary to have recourse to measures which were
utterly repugnant to his deep sense of humanity and
justice. That Byron may have been sounded by some of
the intriguing chieftains with some such suggestion is
more than probable, but he was far too honest to walk
into the snare. One day he said to Parry :
* I have experienced, since my arrival at Missolonghi,
offers that would surprise you, were I to tell you of
them, and which would turn the head of any man less
satiated than I am, and more desirous of possessing
power than of contributing to freedom and happiness.
To all these offers, and to every application made to
me, which had a tendency to provoke disputes or
increase discord, I have always replied : " I came here
to serve Greece ; agree among yourselves for the
good of your country, and whatever is your imited
resolve, and whatever the Government commands, I
shall be ready to support with my fortune and my
sword." We who came here to fight for Greece have
no right to meddle with its internal affairs, or dictate
to the people or Government'
151
152 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
That Byron, if he had lived, and if he had chosen to
usurp power, could have made himself a Dictator
admits of no doubt. In the then state of that distracted
country, and the well-known mercenary disposition of
the Greeks, he might with his dollars have raised an
army which would have made him supreme in Greece.
' No single chieftain,' Parry says, ' could have re-
sisted ; and all of them would have been compelled —
because they would not trust one another — to join
their forces with Byron's. The whole of the Suliotes
were at his beck and call. He could have procured
the assassination of any man in Greece for a sum too
trifling to mention.'
But Byron had no such views ; he never wished to
possess political power in Greece. He had come to
serve the Greeks on their own conditions, and nothing
could have made him swerve from that intention.
Byron's talk with Trelawny at Cephalonia on
this subject was not serious, and it took place before
he had mastered all the perplexing problems connected
with Greece.
It is to Byron's lasting credit that, with so many
opportunities for self-aggrandizement, he should have
proved himself so unselfish and high-minded.
What might have happened if he had been able to
attend the Congress at Salona we shall never know.
But we feel confident, from a long and close study of
Byron's character, that, even if the Government and
the chieftains had offered him the throne of Greece,
he would have refused it. Not only would such a
throne have been, figuratively, poised in air, swayed
by every breath which the rival chieftains would have
blown upon it, but Byron himself would have been
accused, throughout the length and breadth of Europe,
of exploiting the sufferings of Greece for his own
TROUBLES IN THE MOREA 153
personal aggrandizement. While we are discussing
this question, it is well to understand the position of
affairs at the time when the proposal to hold a
Congress at Salona was made.
The ostensible object of the Congress was to shake
hands all round, to let bygones be bygones, and to
unite all available forces in a spirit of amity. It was
high time. The Moreawas troubled by the hostilities
between Colocotroni's men and Government factions.
Colocotroni* himself was shut up in Tripolitza, and his
son Pano in Napoli di Romagna. Eastern Greece was
more or less tranquil. Odysseus f was at Negropont,
from whence seven hundred Albanians had lately
absconded. The passes of Thermopylae were insecure.
Although Western Greece was for the moment tranquil,
life in Missolonghi was not worth an hour's purchase ;
and there was a serious split between the so-called
Odysseans and the party of Mavrocordato, skilfully
fostered by both Colonel Stanhope and Odysseus.
Though Candia was subdued, the peasantry threatened
a rising in the mountains ; the Albanians were dis-
contented ; and, finally, the Government itself was not
sleeping on a bed of roses, for it had most of the great
military chiefs dead against it.
There were, in fact, at that time two Governments —
one at Argos and one at Tripolitza — and both hostile
* One of the turbulent capitani who was playing for his own hand.
He was at one time a member of the Executive Body, and was
afterwards proclaimed by the Legislative Assembly as an enemy of
the State.
t A leader of Greek insurgents — Byron calls him Ulysses — who
broke away from Government control to form an independent party
in opposition to Mavrocordato, with whose views Byron sympathized.
Trelawny and Colonel Stanhope believed in Odysseus, who after
having acquired great influence in Eastern Greece was proclaimed
by the Government, imprisoned, and murdered while in captivity.
154 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
to each other. The Primates were in favour of a
Turkish form of government, and they had great
influence in the Morea. The chiefs, on the contrary,
while professing democratic principles, were really in
favour of frank terrorism and plunder. Some of them
were personally brave; others were the offspring of
heroes, whom the Turks had never been able to
subdue, and who held a sort of feudal tenure over
lands which they had kept by the sword. The people
of the Peloponnesus were under the influence of the
civil and military oligarchs; those of Eastern and
Western Greece were chiefly under the captains. Of
these, Odysseus and Mavrocordato were the most
influential. The islands Hydra and Spezzia were
under the influence of some rich oligarchs ; while
Ipsara was purely democratic. The only virtue to
be found in Greece was monopolized by the peasantry,
who had passed through a long period of Turkish
oppression without being tainted by that corruption
which was so prevalent in the towns. Indeed, the
peasants and some of the islanders were the finest
examples of the 'national' party, which had never
been subdued by military or civil tyrants. When we
consider the mercenary character of the Greeks, their
real or assumed poverty, their insatiable demands for
Byron's money ; when one realizes the hopeless tangle
into which greed and ambition had thrown the affairs
of Greece (the open hostility of the capitanis to any
settled form of government), it is evident that the
supreme management of such a circus would have
been no sinecure. No one believed that Greece,
under the conditions then prevailing, would have found
repose under a foreign King. Nothing short of a cruel,
unflinching despotism would have quieted the country.
ANDREA LONDOS i5S
It is, of course, possible that the chiefs assembled at
Salona would have offered to Byron the general direc-
tion of affairs in the western continent. Gamba says
that he had heard rumours to the effect that in a short
time the general government of Greece would have
been placed in Byron's hands. * Considering,' he says,
' the vast addition to his authority which the arrival
of the moneys from England would have insured to
Byron, such an idea is by no means chimerical.'
Writing to Barff on March 22, Byron says :
* In a few days Prince Mavrocordato and myself
intend to proceed to Salona at the request of Odysseus
and the chiefs of Eastern Greece, to concert, if possible,
a plan of union between Western and Eastern Greece,
and to take measures, offensive and defensive, for the
ensuing campaign, Mavrocordato 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 lads in Greece together.
It would be difficult to give a positive answer till the
Salona meeting 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.'
CHAPTER XIII
On March 22 news reached Missolonghi that the
Greek loan had been successfully raised in London.
Byron sent this welcome intelligence to the Greek
Government, with a request that no time should be lost
in fitting out the fleet at the different islands. The
artillery corps at Missolonghi was augmented by one
hundred regular troops under the command of Lambro,
a brave Suliote chief, for the better protection of the
guns stationed in the mountains. Unfortunately, the
weather, upon which Byron so much depended for
exercise, could not possibly have been worse. In-
cessant rain and impassable roads confined him to the
house until his health was seriously affected. He
constantly complained of oppression on his chest, and
was altogether in a depressed condition of mind.
On the day fixed for his departure for Salona, the
River Phidari was so swollen as not to be fordable, and
the roads in every direction were impassable. For
many days the rain poured down in torrents, until, to
employ Byron's quaint phrase, ' The dykes of Holland,
when broken down, would be the deserts of Arabia
for dryness, in comparison.'
On March 28 an event occurred to which Byron has
alluded in his published correspondence. It was a
trifling matter enough, but might have had serious
consequences if Byron had not shown great firmness.
156
A DUEL PREVENTED 157
One of the artillerymen, an Italian, had robbed a
poor peasant in the market-place of 25 piastres. The
man was in due course arrested, tried by court-
martial, and convicted. There was no doubt as to his
guilt, but a serious dispute arose among the officers
as to his punishment. The Germans were for the
bastinado ; but that was contrary to the French military
code, under which the man was tried, and Byron
strongly opposed its infliction. He declared that, so
far as he was concerned, no barbarous usages should
be introduced into Greece, especially as such a mode
of punishment would disgust rather than reform. He
proposed that, instead of corporal punishment, the
offender should have his uniform stripped off his back,
and be marched through the streets, bearing a label
describing the nature of his offence. He was then to
be handed over to the regular police and imprisoned
for a time. This example of severity, tempered by
humanity, produced an excellent effect upon the
soldiers and the citizens of Missolonghi. In the course
of the evening some high words passed on the subject
between three Englishmen, two of them being officers
of the brigade, cards were exchanged, and two duels
were to be fought the next morning. Byron did not
hear of this until late at night. He then ordered
Gamba to arrest the whole party. When they were
afterwards brought before Byron, he with some
difficulty prevailed upon them to shake hands, and thus
averted a serious scandal. Gamba, w^riting on March 30,
says that the Primates of Missolonghi on that day
presented Byron with the freedom of their town.
'This new honour,' he says, 'did but entail upon
Lord Byron the necessity for greater sacrifices. The
poverty of the Government and the town became daily
158 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
more apparent. They could not furnish the soldiers'
rations nor pay their arrears ; nor was there forthcom-
ing a single piastre of the 1,500 dollars which the
Primates had agreed to furnish for the fortifications.
Thus the whole charge fell upon Lord Byron.'
On the following night a Greek came with tears
rolling down his cheeks, and complained that one of
Byron's soldiers had, in a drunken frenzy, broken
open his door and with drawn sword alarmed his
whole family. He appealed to Byron for protection.
Without a moment's hesitation Byron sent an officer
with a file of men to arrest the delinquent. He was a
Russian who had lately arrived and enlisted in the
artillery brigade. The man vowed that the charge
was false ; that he had lodged in that house for several
days, and that he only broke the door open because
the Greek would not admit him, and kept him outside
in the rain. He moreover complained of the time and
manner of his arrest, and sent a letter to Byron
accusing the officer who had arrested him. Byron's
reply was as follows :
'April I, 1824.
•Sir,
* I have the honour to reply to your letter of this
day. In consequence of an urgent and, to all appear-
ances, a well-founded complaint, made to me yesterday
evening, I gave orders to Mr. Hesketh to proceed to
your quarters with the soldiers of his guard, and to
remove you from your house to .ihe Seraglio, because
the owner of your house declared himself and his
family to be in immediate danger from your conduct ;
and added that that was not the first time that you had
placed them in similar circumstances. Neither Mr.
Hesketh nor myself could imagine that you were in
bed, as we had been assured to the contrary ; and
certainly such a situation was not contemplated. But
Mr. Hesketh had positive orders to conduct you from
your quarters to those of the artillery brigade ; at the
CARIASCACHI CREATES DISTURBANCE 159
same time being desired to use no violence; nor does
it appear that any was had recourse to. This measure
was adopted because your landlord assured me, when
I proposed to put off the inquiry until the next day, that
he could not return to his house without a guard for
his protection, and that he had left his wife and
daughter, and family, in the greatest alarm ; on that
account putting them under our immediate protection ;
the case admitted of no delay. As I am not aware
that Mr. Hesketh exceeded his orders, I cannot take
any measures to punish him ; but I have no objection
to examine minutely into his conduct. You ought to
recollect that entering into the auxiliary Greek Corps,
now under my orders, at your own sole request and
positive desire, you incurred the obligation of obeying
the laws of the country, as well as those of the service.
* I have the honour to be, etc.,
'N. B.'
It is doubtful whether any other commanding officer
would, in similar circumstances, have taken the trouble
to write such a letter to a private in his regiment. We
merely allude to the incident in order to show that
even in trivial matters Byron performed his duty
towards those under his command, taking especial
interest in each case, so that breaches of discipline
might not be too harshly treated by his subordinates.
On April 3 the whole town of Missolonghi was
thrown into a panic of alarm. A rumour quickly
spread that a body of troops had disembarked at
Chioneri, a village on the southern shore of the city.
At two o'clock in the afternoon about one hundred and
fifty men, belonging to the chief Cariascachi, landed,
and demanded reparation for an injury which had been
inflicted on his nephew by some boatmen belonging to
Missolonghi. Meanwhile the man who wounded the
young man had absconded ; and the soldiers, unable to
wreak their vengeance upon them, arrested two of the
Primates, and sent them to Cariascachi as hostages.
i6o BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
They then seized the fort at Vasiladi, a small mud
island commanding the flats, which on the sea side
afford an impenetrable defence to the town, Carias-
cachi further declared that he would neither give up
the Primates nor Vasiladi until the men who had
wounded his nephew were delivered into his hands.
On the same day seven Turkish vessels anchored off
Vasiladi. Cariascachi had long been suspected of
a treasonable correspondence with the Turks, and
Mavrocordato was quick to perceive that his conduct
on this occasion, coinciding as it did with the move-
ments of the enemy, was part of a conspiracy against
his authority in Western Greece. He expected every
moment to hear that the Turks had taken possession
of Vasiladi, and guessed that the soldiers sent by
Cariascachi, ostensibly to avenge a private injury, had
really come to open the gates to the Turks. It was a
critical moment indeed. All the disposable troops
were in the provinces ; the Suliotes were marching to
Arta, and some of them had already accepted service
under Cariascachi himself
Byron, with wonderful self-command, concealed his
indignation at such evidence of treason, and urged
Mavrocordato to dismiss his fears, and to display all
possible energy in order to defeat Cariascachi's designs.
He offered his own services, that of the artillery
brigade, and of the three hundred Suliotes who formed
his guard. Gunboats were sent to Vasiladi with orders
to dislodge the rebels, and Byron resolved that the
suspected treason of this Greek chieftain should be
severely punished. The batteries of Missolonghi were
immediately secured by the artillerymen, and several
of their guns were pointed towards the town, so as to
prevent a surprise.
ALLEGED TREASON i6i
At the approach of the gunboats the rebels pre-
cipitately fled, and, perceiving the resolute bearing
assumed by Byron's troops, they immediately sur-
rendered the Primates, and humbly asked permission
to retire unmolested. This was of course granted,
but Cariascachi was subsequently tried by court-
martial, and found guilty of holding treasonable com-
munications with the enemy.
According to Millingen, who was at Missolonghi at
that time, it was not proved against Cariascachi that he
had ever proposed to deliver up Vasiladi and Misso-
longhi to the Turks ; but appearances were certainly
against him, and his subsequent flight to Agraffa
seems to have given evidence of a guilty conscience.
Byron was deeply mortified by this example of treason
on the part of a Greek chieftain. He had not been
prepared to meet with black-hearted treachery, or
to see Greeks conspiring against their own country,
courting the chains of their former masters, and bar-
gaining the liberties and very existence of their own
fellow-countrymen.
' Ignorant at first,' says Millingen, ' how far the
ramifications of this conspiracy might extend, he
trembled to think of the consequences. Personal
fear never entered his mind, although most of the
Suliotes who composed his guard, as soon as they
heard that their compatriots at Anatolico sided with
Cariascachi, declared openly that they would not act
against their countrymen. The hopes that Byron
had formed for the future of Greece were for a
moment obscured. He feared lest the news of a
civil war in the Peloponnesus, and of a conspiracy
to introduce the Turks into Western Greece, would,
on reaching England, ruin the Greek credit, and
preclude all hope of obtaining a loan, which to
him appeared indispensable to the salvation of her
liberty.'
II
i62 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
While absorbed by the gloomy reflections to which
this incident gave rise, a spy was discovered under
Byron's own roof. A man named Constantine Volpiotti,
it was asserted, had had several conferences with
Cariascachi at Anatolico. Letters found upon him
confirmed the worst suspicions, and he was handed
over by Byron's orders to the tender mercies of the
town guard. A military commission subsequently
examined minutely into the whole affair. It appears
that the incriminating letters found in Volpiotti's
clothes were those written by Mavrocordato and other
patriots to Cariascachi, reproaching him for his
treachery and connivance with the enemy. These
Volpiotti was to show to Omer Pacha as certificates to
prove how faithful Cariascachi had ever been to his
engagements with him.
* It resulted, from the examination which Volpiotti
underwent, that he had been charged to ask Omer
Pacha for a Bouyourte, appointing Cariascachi Capitano
of the province of Agraffa. Cariascachi engaged in
return to co-operate with Vernakiotti in the reduction
of Western Greece, and to draw over to his party
several of the chiefs who had hitherto most faithfully
adhered to the Greek Government.'
Under these circumstances it was not wise, even if
it were politic, to allow Cariascachi to escape. Byron
felt this keenly, and foresaw what actually happened.
Cariascachi was no sooner clear of Anatolico than he
placed himself at the head of his followers, and, assisted
by Andrea Isco, of Macrinoro, he again made Agraffa
and its adjoining provinces the scene of his depre-
dations and daily sanguinary encounters.
* At no time in his life,' says Millingen, ' did Lord
Byron find himself in circumstances more calculated
to render him unhappy. The cup of health had
BYRON NERVOUS AND IRRITABLE 163
dropped from his lips, and constant anxiety and suffer-
ing operated powerfully on his mind, already a prey
to melancholy apprehensions, and disappointment,
increased by disgust. Continually haunted by a dread
of epilepsy or palsy, he fell into the lowest state of
hypochondriasis, and vented his sorrows in language
which, though sometimes sublime, was at others as
peevish and capricious as that of an unruly and
quarrelsome child.'
Gamba tells us that Byron, after the events above
mentioned, became nervous and irritable. He had
not been on horseback for some days on account of the
weather, but on April 9, though the weather was
threatening, he determined to ride. Three miles from
the town he and Gamba were caught in a heavy down-
pour of rain, and they returned to the town walls wet
through and in a violent perspiration. Gamba says :
' I have before mentioned that it was our practice to
dismount at the walls, and return to our house in a
boat. This day, however, I entreated Byron to return
home on horseback the whole way, as it would be
dangerous, hot as he was, to remain exposed to the
rain in a boat for half an hour. But he would not
listen to me, and said : " I should make a pretty soldier
indeed, if I were to care for such a trifle." Accordingly
we dismounted, and got into the boat as usual. Two
hours after his return home, he was seized with a
shuddering : he complained of fever and rheumatic
pains. At eight in the evening I entered his rooms ;
he was lying on a sofa, restless and melancholy.'
Byron said that he suffered a great deal of pain,
and in consequence Dr. Bruno proposed to bleed him.
Bruno seems to have considered the lancet as a
sovereign remedy for all the ills of life.
' Have you no other remedy than bleeding ? There
are many more die of the lancet than the lance,' said
Byron, as he declined his doctor's proposal. On the
II — 2
i64 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
following day he was perpetually shuddering, but he
got up at his usual hour and transacted business. He
did not, however, leave the house. On April 1 1 Byron
resolved to ride out an hour before his usual time,
fearing that, if he waited, he would be prevented by
the rain.
' We rode for a long time in the olive woods,' says
Gamba. ' Lambro, a Suliote officer, accompanied by
a numerous suite, attended Byron, who spoke much
and appeared to be in good spirits.
'The next day he kept his bed with an attack of
rheumatic fever. It was thought that his saddle was
wet ; but it is more probable that he was really suffer-
ing from his previous exposure to the rain, which
perhaps affected him the more readily on account of
his over-abstemious mode of life.'
The dates to which Gamba refers in the statement
we have quoted were April ii and 12. It is important
to remark that in Fletcher's account, published in the
Westtninster Review, it is stated that the last time Byron
rode out was on April 10. According to Parry, who
supports Fletcher's opinion, Byron was very unwell on
April II, and did not leave his house. He had shiver-
ing fits, and complained of pains, particularly in his
bones and head.
' He talked a great deal,' says Parry, * and I thought
in rather a wandering manner. I became alarmed for
his safety, and earnestly begged him to try a change of
air and scene at Zante.'
Gamba, in his journal, says that Byron rose from
his bed on April 13, but did not leave the house. The
fever appeared to be diminished, but the pains in his
head and bones continued. He was melancholy and
irritable. He had not slept since his attack, and could
take no other nourishment than a little broth and a
LAST ILLNESS 165
spoonful or two of arrowroot. On the 14th he got out
of bed at noon ; he was calmer. The fever had appar-
ently diminished, but he was very weak, and still
complained of pains in his head. It was with the
greatest difficulty, says Gamba, that the physicians
dissuaded him from going out riding, which, in spite
of the threatening weather, he desired to do. There
seems at that time to have been no suspicion of danger,
and it was even supposed by his doctors that the
malady was under control. Byron himself said that
he was rather glad of his fever, as it might cure him
of his tendency to epilepsy. He attended to his
correspondence as usual. Gamba says :
• I think it was on this day that, as I was sitting
near him on his sofa, he said to me, " I was afraid I
was losing my memory, and, in order to try, I attempted
to repeat some Latin verses with the English transla-
tion, which I have not tried to recollect since I was at
school. I remembered them all except the last word
of one of the hexameters.'"
On April 15 the fever was still upon him, says
Gamba, but all pain had ceased. He was easier, and
expressed a wish to ride out, but the weather would
not permit. He transacted business, and received,
among others, a letter from the Turkish Governor to
whom he had sent the prisoners he had liberated.
The Turk thanked Byron for his courtesy, and asked
for a repetition of this favour. ' The letter pleased
him much,' says Gamba.
According to Fletcher, it appears that both on that
day and the day previous Byron had a suspicion that
his complaint was not understood by his doctors.
Parry says that on April 15 the doctors thought
there was no danger, and said so, openly. He paid
i66 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
Byron a visit, and remained at his bedside from 7 p.m.
until 10 o'clock.
' Lord Byron spoke of death with great composure,'
says Parry; 'and though he did not think that his end
was so very near, there was something about him so
serious and so firm, so resigned and composed, so
different from an3'thing I had ever before seen in him,
that my mind misgave me.'
Byron then spoke of the sadness of being ill in such
a place as Missolonghi, and seemed to have imagined
the possibility of a reconciliation with his wife.
' When I left Italy,' said Byron, ' I had time on
board the brig to give full scope to memory and reflec-
tion. I am convinced of the happiness of domestic
life. No man on earth respects a virtuous woman
more than I do, and the prospect of retirement in
England with my wife and daughter gives me an idea
of happiness I have never before experienced. Retire-
ment will be everything for me, for heretofore my life
has been like the ocean in a storm.'
Byron then spoke of Tita (and Fletcher also, doubt-
less, though Parry does not mention that honest and
faithful servant), and said that Bruno was an excellent
young man and very skilful, but too much agitated.
He hoped that Parry would come to him as often as
possible, as he was jaded to death by the worrying
of his doctors, and the evident anxiety of all those who
wished him well. On a wretched fever-stricken swamp,
in a house barely weather-tight, in a miserable room,
far from all those whom he loved on earth, lay the
' pilgrim of eternity,' his life, so full of promise,
slowly flickering out. The pestilent sirocco was
blowing a hurricane, and the rain was falling with
almost tropical violence. Gamba had met with an
accident which confined him to his quarters in another
BYRON DELIRIOUS 167
part of the town, a circumstance which deprived Byron
of a loyal friend in the hour of his direst need. Under
these circumstances, Parry was a godsend to Byron,
and he seems to have done everything possible to
cheer him in his moments of depression.
On April 16 Byron was alarmingly ill, and, according
to Parry, almost constantly delirious. He spoke alter-
nately in English and Italian, and his thoughts
wandered. The doctors were not alarmed, and told
Parry that Byron would certainly recover. According
to Millingen's account. Dr. Bruno called him in for a
consultation on the 15th, and we shall see what
Millingen thought of his patient's condition when we
lay his narrative before the reader.
When Parry visited Byron on the morning of
the 17th, he was at times delirious. He appeared
to be much worse than on the day before. The
doctors succeeded in bleeding him twice, and both
times he fainted.
' His debility was excessive. He complained bitterly
of the want of sleep, as delirious patients do complain,
in a wild, rambling manner. He said he had not slept
for more than a week, when, in fact, he had repeatedly
slept at short intervals, disturbedly indeed, but still it
was sleep. He had now ceased to think or talk of
death ; he had probably no idea that death was no near
at hand, for his senses were in such a state that they
rarely allowed him to form a correct idea of anything.'
On the 17th Gamba managed to get to Byron's room,
and was struck by the change in his appearance.
' He was very calm,' says Gamba, ' and talked to me
in the kindest manner about my having sprained my
ankle. In a hollow, sepulchral tone, he said : " Take
care of your foot. I know by experience how painful
it must be." I could not stay near his bed : a flood of
tears rushed into my eyes, and I was obliged to with-
i68 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
draw. This was the first day that the medical men
seemed to entertain serious apprehensions.'
On this day Gamba heard that Dr. Thomas, of Zante,
had been sent for. It is unfortunate that this was not
done sooner ; but Byron had forbidden Fletcher to
send for that excellent medical man, when he pro-
posed it two days previously. During the night of
the 17th Byron became delirious, and wandered in his
speech ; he fancied himself at the head of his Suliotes,
assailing the walls of Lepanto — a wish that had lain
very close to his heart for many and many a day. It
was his dream of a soldier's glory, to die fighting,
sword in hand. On the morning of the i8th Drs. Mil-
lingen and Bruno were alarmed by symptoms of an
inflammation of the brain, and proposed another bleed-
ing, to which Byron consented, but soon ordered the
vein to be closed.
' At noon,' says Gamba, ' I came to his bedside. He
asked me if there were any letters for him. There
was one from the Archbishop Ignatius to him, which
told Byron that the Sultan had proclaimed him, in full
divan, an enemy of the Porte. I thought it best not
to let him know of the arrival of that letter. A few
hours afterwards other letters arrived from England
from his most intimate friends, full of good news, and
most consolatory in every way, particularly one from
Mr. Hobhouse, and another from Douglas Kinnaird ;
but he had then become unconscious — it was too late !'
April 18, 1824, was Easter Day, a holiday through-
out the length and breadth of Greece, and a noisy
one, too. It is the day on which the Greeks at Misso-
longhi were accustomed to discharge their firearms
and great guns. Prince Mavrocordato gave orders
that Parry should march his artillery brigade and
Suliotes to some distance from the town, in order
CONSULTATION AMONG PHYSICIANS 169
to attract the populace from the vicinity of Byron's
house. At the same time the town guard patrolled
the streets, and informed people of Byron's danger,
begging them to make as little noise as possible. The
plan succeeded admirably ; Byron was not disturbed,
and at three o'clock in the afternoon he rose, and,
leaning on the arm of Tita, went into the next room.
When seated, he told Tita to bring him a book,
mentioning it by name. About this time Dr. Bruno
entreated him, with tears in his eyes, to be again bled.
' No,' said Byron ; ' if my hour is come, I shall die
whether I lose my blood or keep it.'
After reading a few minutes he became faint, and,
leaning on Tita's arm, he tottered into the next room
and returned to bed.
At half-past three. Dr. Bruno and Dr. Millingen,
becoming more alarmed, wished to call in two other
physicians, a Dr. Freiber, a German, and a Greek
named Luca Vaya, the most distinguished of his
profession in the town, and physician to Mavrocordato.
Lord Byron at first refused to see them ; but being
told that Mavrocordato advised it, he said : * Very
well, let them come ; but let them look at me and say
nothing.' They promised this, and were admitted.
When about him and feeling his pulse, one of them
wished to speak. * Recollect your promise,' said
Byron, * and go away.'
In order to form some idea of the state of things
while Byron's life was slowly ebbing away, we will
quote a passage from Parry's book, which was pub-
lished soon after the poet's death :
' Dr. Bruno I believe to be a very good young man,
but he was certainly inadequate to his situation. I do
not allude to his medical knowledge, of which I cannot
I70 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
pretend to be a judge; but he lacked firmness, and was
so much agitated that he was incapable of bringing
whatever knowledge he might possess into use. Tita
was kind and attentive, and by far the most teachable
and useful of all the persons about Lord Byron. As
there was nobody invested with any authority over
his household after he fell ill, there was neither
method, order, nor quiet, in his apartments. A clever,
skilful English surgeon, possessing the confidence of
his patient, would have put all this in train ; but
Dr. Bruno had no idea of doing any such thing. There
was also a want of many comforts which, to the sick,
may be called necessaries, and there was a dreadful
confusion of tongues. In his agitation Dr. Bruno's
English, and he spoke but imperfectly, was unintel-
legible ; Fletcher's Italian was equally bad. I speak
nothing but English ; Tita then spoke nothing but
Italian ; and the ordinary Greek domestics were in-
comprehensible to us all. In all the attendants there
was the officiousness of zeal ; but, owing to their
ignorance of each other's language, their zeal only
added to the confusion. This circumstance, and the
absence of common necessaries, made Lord Byron's
apartment such a picture of distress, and even anguish,
during the two or three last days of his life, as I never
before beheld, and wish never again to witness.'
At four o'clock on April i8, according to Gamba,
Byron seemed to be aware of his approaching end.
Dr. Millingen, Fletcher, and Tita, were at his bedside.
Strange though it may seem to us in these far-off days,
with our experience of medical men, Dr. Millingen,
unable to restrain his tears, walked out of the room.
Tita also wept profusely, and would have retired if
Byron had not held his hand. Byron looked at him
steadily, and said, half smiling, in Italian : ' Oh, questa
e una bella scena.' He then seemed to reflect a
moment, and exclaimed, ' Call Parry.'
' Almost immediately afterwards,' says Gamba, * a
fit of delirium ensued, and he began to talk wildly, as
'MY SISTER— MY CHILD' 171
if he were mounting a breach in an assault. He called
out, half in English, half in Italian : "Forwards — forwards
— courage — follow my example — don't be afraid !" '
When he came to himself Fletcher was with him.
He then knew that he was dying, and seemed very
anxious to make his servant understand his wishes.
He was very considerate about his servants, and said
that he was afraid they would suffer from sitting up
so long in attendance upon him. Byron said, ' I wish
to do something for Tita and Luca.' ' My lord,' said
Fletcher, * for God's sake never mind that now, but
talk of something of more importance.' But he
returned to the same topic, and, taking Fletcher by
the hand, continued : * You will be provided for — and
now hear my last wishes.'
Fletcher begged that he might bring pen and paper
to take down his words. * No,' replied Lord Byron,
' there is no time — mind you execute my orders. Go
to my sister — tell her — go to Lady Byron — you will
see her, and say ' Here his voice faltered, and
gradually became indistinct ; but still he continued
muttering something in a very earnest manner for
nearly twenty minutes, though in such a tone that only
a few words could be distinguished. These were only
names: 'Augusta,* 'Ada,' ' Hobhouse,' ' Kinnaird.'
He then said : ' Now I have told you all.'
' My lord,' replied Fletcher, ' I have not understood
a word your lordship has been saying.' Byron looked
most distressed at this, and said, 'Not understand me?
What a pity! Then it is too late — all is over.' *I
hope not,' answered Fletcher ; ' but the Lord's will be
done.' Byron continued, 'Yes, not mine.' He then
tried to utter a few words, of which none were intelli-
gible except, ' My sister — my child.' The doctors
172 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
began to concur in an opinion which one might have
thought sufficiently obvious from the first, namely,
that the principal danger to the patient v^as his extreme
weakness, and now agreed to administer restoratives.
Dr. Bruno, however, thought otherwise, but agreed to
administer a dose of claret, bark, and opium, and to
apply blisters to the soles of Byron's feet. He took
the draught readily, but for some time refused the
blisters. At last they were applied, and Byron fell
asleep.
Gamba says : * He awoke in half an hour. I wished
to go to him, but I had not the heart. Parry went ;
Byron knew him, and squeezed his hand.'
Parry says :
' When Lord Byron took my hand, I found his hands
were deadly cold. With Tita's assistance, I en-
deavoured gently to create a little warmth in them,
and I also loosened the bandage which was tied round
his head. Till this was done, he seemed in great pain
— clenched his hands at times, and gnashed his teeth.
He bore the loosening of the band passively; and
after it was loosened, he shed tears. I encouraged
him to weep, and said : "My lord, I thank God, I hope
you will now be better ; shed as many tears as you
can; you will sleep and find ease." He replied faintly,
" Yes, the pain is gone ; I shall sleep now." He took
my hand, uttered a faint "Good-night," and dropped to
sleep. My heart ached, but I thought then his suffer-
ings were over, and that he would wake no more. He
did wake again, however, and I went to him ; he knew
me, though scarcely. He was less distracted than I
had seen him for some time before ; there was the
calmness of resignation, but there was also the stupor
of death. He tried to utter his wishes, but he was
not able to do so. He said something about re-
warding Tita, and uttered several incoherent words.
There was either no meaning in what he said, or it
was such a meaning as we could not expect at that
moment. His eyes continued open only a short time.
THE DEATH OF BYRON 173
and then, at about six o'clock in the evening of the i8th
April, he sank into a slumber, or rather, I should say, a
stupor, and woke and knew no more.'
It must be borne in mind that the details given above
were written by a man who asserts that he was present
during the period of which he gives an account.
Gamba, as we have seen, was not present, and the
details which he gives are avowedly gathered from
those who happened to be in the room.
* From those about him,' says Gamba, ' I collected
that, either at this time or in his former interval of
reason, Byron could be understood to say, " Poor
Greece ! Poor town ! My poor servants !" Also,
' Why was I not aware of this sooner ?" and, " My
hour is come ! I do not care for death. But why did
I not go home before I came here ?" At another time
he said : " There are things which make the world
dear to me."'
He said this in Italian, and Parry may of course not
have understood him. * lo lascio qualche cosa di caro
nel mondo.' He also said : ' I am content to die.' In
speaking of Greece, he said : * I have given her my
time, my means, my health, and now I give her my
life ! What could I do more ?"
Byron remained insensible, immovable, for twenty-
four hours. There were occasional symptoms of
suffocation, and a rattling in the throat, which induced
his servants occasionally to raise his head. Gamba
says :
' Means were taken to rouse him from his lethargy,
but in vain. A great many leeches were applied to his
temples, and the blood flowed copiously all night. It
was exactly a quarter past six on the next day, the 19th
April, that he was seen to open his eyes, and immediately
close them again. The doctors felt his pulse — he was
gone 1'
CHAPTER XIV
It matters little what we now think of Byron as a
man. After eighty-four years, his personality is of
less public interest than his achievements, while our
capacity for forming an adequate judgment of his
character is necessarily dependent on second-hand
evidence, some of which is false, and much tainted by
prejudice. But what did those hard men of action
who stood at his side in those terrible days in Greece —
Stanhope, Parry, Finlay, Blaquiere, Millingen, Tre-
lawny — what did they think of Byron ?
Stanhope, who was at Salona, wrote to Bowring on
April 30 :
*A courier has just arrived from the chief Scalza.
Alas ! all our fears are realized. The soul of Byron
has taken its last flight. England has lost her brightest
genius — Greece her noblest friend. To console them for
the loss, he has left behind the emanationsof his splendid
mind. If Byron had faults, he had redeeming virtues
too — he sacrificed his comfort, fortune, health, and life,
to the cause of an oppressed nation. Honoured be
his memory ! Had I the disposal of his ashes, I would
place them in the Temple of Theseus, or in the Par-
thenon at Athens.'
Three days later Stanhope wrote again to Bowring :
' Byron would not refuse to an entire people the
benefit of his virtues ; he condescended to display them
wherever Humanity beckoned him to her aid. This
single object of devotion to the well-being of a pfeople
174
PANEGYRICS i75
has raised him to a distinguished pitch of glory among
characters dignified b}'- their virtues, of which the
illustrious British nation can make so ample a display,
and of whom Greece hopes to behold many co-oper-
ating in her regeneration. Having here paid the tribute
of admiration due to the virtues of Lord Byron, eternal
may his memory remain with the world !'
Parry says :
* Thus died the truest and greatest poet England
has lately given birth to, the warmest-hearted of her
philanthropists, the least selfish of her patriots. That
the disappointment of his ardent hopes w^as the primary
cause of his illness and death cannot, I think, be
doubted. The weight of that disappointment was
augmented by the numerous difficulties he met with.
He was fretted and annoyed, but he disdained to
complain. As soon as it was known that Lord Byron
was dead, sorrow and grief were generally felt in
Greece. They spread from his own apartments over
the town of Missolonghi, through the whole of Greece,
and over every part of civilized Europe. No persons,
perhaps, after his domestics and personal friends, felt
his loss more acutely than the poor citizens of Misso-
longhi. His residence among them procured them
food, and insured their protection. But for him they
would have been first plundered by the unpaid Suliotes,
and then left a prey to the Turks. Not only were the
Primates and Mavrocordato affected on the occasion,
but the poorest citizen felt that he had lost a friend.
Mavrocordato spoke of Lord Byron as the best friend
of Greece, and said that his conduct was admirable.
" Nobody knows," he was heard to say, " except perhaps
myself, the loss Greece has suffered. Her safety even
depended on his life. His presence at Missolonghi
has checked intrigues which will now have uncon-
trolled sway. By his aid alone have I been able to
preserve this city ; and now I know that every assist-
ance I derived from and through him will be with-
drawn."
'At other cities and places of Greece — at Salona,
where the Congress had just assembled ; at Athens —
the grief was equally sincere. Lord Byron was
176 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
mourned as the best benefactor to Greece. Orations
were pronounced by the priests, and the same honours
were paid to his memory as to the memory of one of
their own revered chiefs.'
After Byron's death Finlay wrote these words :
' Lord Byron's death has shed a lustre on both his
writings and his actions ; they are in accordance. His
life was sacrificed in the cause for which he had early
written, and which he constantly supported. His
merit would not have been greater had he breathed
his last on the isthmus of Corinth at the conclusion of
a baffled siege. Yet such a death would certainly have
been more fortunate; for it would have recalled his
name oftener to the memory, at least, of those who
have no souls. Time will put an end to all undue
admiration and malicious cant, and the world will
ultimately form an estimate of Byron's character from
his writings and his public conduct. It will then be
possible to form a just estimate of the greatness of his
genius and his mind, and the real extent of his faults.
The ridiculous calumnies which have found a moment's
credit will then be utterly forgotten. Nor will it be
from the cursory memoirs or anecdotes of his con-
temporaries that his character can be drawn.'
Blaquiere, who had brought out the first instalment
of the Greek loan, arrived at Zante on April 24, and
was there informed of Byron's death. He had been
among the first to urge Byron to hasten his projected
visit to Greece, and had held a long conversation with
him at Genoa on the state of affairs in the Morea.
The following extract is taken from a letter which he
wrote to a friend in Enarland :
^^b'
' Thus terminated the life of Lord Byron, at a moment
the most glorious for his own fame, but the most
unfortunate for Greece ; since there is no doubt but,
had he lived, many calamities would have been avoided,
while his personal credit and guarantee would have
prevented the ruinous delay which has taken place
CONSTERNATION AT MISSOLONGHI 177
with regard to transferring the loan. In thus devoting
his hfe and fortune to the cause of religion and humanity,
when he might have continued to enjoy the enthusiastic
praises of his contemporaries, he has raised the best
monument to his own fame, and has furnished the
most conclusive reply to calumny and detraction.
When all he had done, and was about to do for the
cause, is considered, no wonder that Lord Byron's
death should have produced such an effect. It was,
in fact, regarded not only as a national calamity, but
as an irreparable loss to every individual in the town
of Missolonghi, and the English volunteers state that
hundreds of the Greeks were seen to shed tears when
the event was announced.
' With respect to Prince Mavrocordato, to whom
Lord Byron had rendered the most important services,
both as a personal friend and in his capacity of Governor-
General of Western Greece, it is unnecessary to say
that he could not have received a severer blow. When
I saw Lord Byron at Genoa last year, I well remember
with what enthusiasm he spoke of his intended visit,
and how much he regretted not having joined the
standard of freedom long before. When once in
Greece, he espoused her most sacred cause with zeal.
Up to the time of his fatal illness he had not advanced
less than fifty thousand dollars, and there is no doubt
but he intended to devote the whole of his private
income to the service of the confederation.'
Millingen says :
* The most dreadful public calamity could not have
spread more general consternation, or more profound
and sincere grief, than the unexpected news of Lord
Byron's death. During the few months he had lived
among the people of Missolonghi, he had given so
many proofs of the sincerity and extent of his zeal for
the advancement of their best interests. He had, with
so much generosity, sacrificed considerable sums to
that purpose ; he had relieved the distress of so many
unfortunate persons, that everyone looked upon him as
a father and public benefactor. These titles were not,
as they mostly are, the incense of adulation, but the
spontaneous tribute of overflowing gratitude. He had
12
178 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
succeeded in inspiring the soldiers with the brightest
and most sanguine expectations. Full of confidence
in a chief they loved, they would have followed him
in the boldest enterprises. To-day they must follow
the corpse of him whom they received but yesterday
with the liveliest acclamations.'
Trelawny, who arrived at Missolonghi four days
after Byron's death, thus writes to Stanhope at Salona :
' Lord Byron is dead. With all his faults, I loved
him truly ; he is connected with every event of the
most interesting years of my wandering life. His
everyday companion, we lived in ships, boats, and
in houses, together; we had no secrets, no reserve,
and though we often differed in opinion, we never
quarrelled. It gave me pain witnessing his frailties ;
he only wanted a little excitement to awaken and put
forth virtues that redeemed them all. . . . This is no
private grief; the world has lost its greatest man, I
my best friend.'
On April 28 Trelawny wrote again to Stanhope :
' I think Byron's name was the great means of getting
the loan. A Mr. Marshall with ^^'8,000 per annum was
as far as Corfu, and turned back on hearing of Byron's
death. . . . The greatest man in the world has
resigned his mortality in favour of this sublime cause ;
for had he remained in Italy he had lived !'
Such was Trelawny's opinion of Byron in April,
1824. From all that the present writer has been able
to gather, both from Trelawny's lips and from his
• Recollections,' published thirty-four years after
Byron's death, such was his real opinion to the last.
Mrs. Julian Marshall, having called attention* to the
fact that, four months after Byron's death, Trelawny,
in a letter to Mary Shelley, spoke in contemptuous
* ' Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,' edited by
Mrs. Julian Marshall.
TRELAWNY AND MAVROCORDATO 179
terms of Byron, we feel bound to refer to it here. It
must be remembered that the letter in question was of
a strictly private nature. In making it public, Mrs.
Marshall unintentionally dealt a severe blow at Tre-
lawny, which, in justice to his memory, we will
endeavour to soften.
To anyone acquainted with the character of this
remarkable man — the fearless soul of honour — such a
volte-face seems absurd, except on the hypothesis that
something had transpired, since Byron's death, suffi-
cient to destroy a long-tried friendship. The fact is
that during those four months the whole situation had
changed. Trelawny, no longer a free - lance, was
practically a prisoner in a cave on Mount Parnassus.
His friend Odysseus went about in daily fear of
assassination, and was persecuted by the active
hostility of a Government which both Odysseus and
Trelawny thought was inspired by Mavrocordato.
Trelawny's opinion of the latter, whose cause Byron
had espoused, maybe gathered from his letter to Mary
Shelley :
* A word as to your wooden god Mavrocordato. He
is a miserable Jew, and I hope ere long to see his
head removed from his worthless and heartless body.
He is a mere shuffling soldier, an aristocratic brute —
wants Kings and Congresses — a poor, weak, shuffling,
intriguing, cowardly fellow ; so no more about him.'
It will be seen that Trelawny, when fairly warmed
up, did not mince his words. It is indeed a pity that
these heated adjectives were served up to the public.
It was only because Byron had consistently supported
Mavrocordato as the Governor of Western Greece that
Trelawny, in his indiscriminative manner, assailed his
memory. But his letter was evidently only the peevish
12 — 2
i8o BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
outburst of an angry man, and closed with these
words :
' I would do much to see and talk to you, but, as I
am now too much irritated to disclose the real state of
things, I will not mislead you by false statements.'
The state of things at the time may be gathered from
a letter addressed to Colonel Stanhope by Captain
Humphreys, who was then serving the Greek cause as
a volunteer.
' I write, not from a land of liberty and freedom, but
from a country at present a prey to anarchy and con-
fusion, with the dismal prospect of future tyranny, . . .
Odysseus is at his fortress of Parnassus ; bribery,
assassination, and every provocation, have been em-
ployed against him. An English officer. Captain
Fenton, who is with Odysseus, as well as Trelawny,
has been twice attempted to be assassinated, after
refusing to accept a bribe of 10,000 dollars, to deliver
up the fortress. Mavrocordatd's agents principally in-
fluence the Government ; the executive body remains
stationary ; and part of the loan has been employed to
secure their re-election!
There is enough in this letter to account for Tre-
lawny's irritation ; but he was entirely wrong in
thinking that Byron was in any sense subservient to
the man whom he then regarded as the real author of
his misfortunes. Trelawny had made the mistake of
joining the faction of Odysseus, but Byron was never
connected with any faction whatever. Odysseus
seems to have persuaded Trelawny that Byron had
become a mere tool of Mavrocordato, and it was under
that erroneous impression that his letter to Mary
Shelley was written.
If, as Mrs. Julian Marshall says, * Trelawny's mercu-
rial and impulsive temperament — ever in extremes —
was liable to the most sudden revulsion of feeling,' it
i
PRINCE MAVROCORDATO i8i
would surely have been wiser, and certainly fairer, to
have withheld the publication of opinions which were
not intended for publication, and which he had, in later
life, openly disavowed. In his estimate of the character
and policy of Mavrocordato, he was also mistaken. It
would be quite easy to show that Mavrocordato was
perhaps the only man of his nation, then in Greece,
who united in an eminent degree unadulterated
patriotism with the talents which form a statesman.
Millingen, who knew him well, tells us that it was
fortunate for Greece that Mavrocordato was so well
acquainted with the character of those with whom he
had to deal. That knowledge preserved Missolonghi,
until the arrival of reinforcements enabled it to hold
out against Omer Pacha's assault. Mavrocordato, he
tells us, never pursued any other object than the good
of his country, and never sacrificed her interests to
his own ambition. He alone was capable of organizing
a civil administration ; in fact, he created a stable form
of government from the ashes of chaos. So far from
his having been a coward, as Trelawny asserts,
Mavrocordato, in his intense desire to serve his coun-
try, often placed himself at the head of troops and
fought bravely. Having held the position of Governor-
General of Western Greece in very trying times, he
relinquished his command in 1825, in compliance with
the orders of his Government, which recalled him to
Anapli, there to fill the post of Secretary of State. He
sacrificed the whole of his fortune in the service of
Greece. According to Millingen, he was occasionally
so distressed for money as to be unable to provide for
his daily expenses.
Enough has been said to show that Trelawny's
abuse of Byron must not be taken too seriously, and
i82 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
that his opinion of Mavrocordato was not endorsed
by those whose opportunities for judging the Prince's
conduct were far greater than Trelawny's.
Let us dismiss from our minds the recollection of
hasty words written in anger^ and let us remember
those truer and deeper sentiments which Trelawny
expressed in his old age :
* I withdrew the black pall and the white shroud,
and beheld the body of the Pilgrim — more beautiful
in death than in life. The contraction of the muscles
and skin had effaced every line that Time or Passion
had ever traced upon it. Few marble busts would
have matched its stainless white, the harmony of its
proportions, and perfect finish. And yet he had been
dissatisfied with that body, and longed to cast its
slough ! He was jealous of the genius of Shake-
speare — that might well be — but where had he seen
the face or the form worthy to excite his envy ?'
CHAPTER XV
The news of Byron's death spread like wildfire through
the streets and bazaars of Missolonghi. The whole
city seemed stunned by the unexpected blow. Byron's
illness had been known, but no one dreamed that it
would end so fatally. As Gamba has well said : *He
died in a strange land, and amongst strangers ; but
more loved, more sincerely wept, he could never have
been wherever he had breathed his last.'
On the day of Byron's death, Ma^rocordato issued
the following proclamation, which forms a real and
enduring tribute to the memory of one who, in the
prime of life, died in a great cause :
Provisional Government of Western Greece.
The present day of festivity and rejoicing is turned
into one of sorrow and mourning.
The Lord Noel Byron departed this life at eleven
o'clock last night, after an illness of ten days, his
death being caused by an inflammatory fever. Such
was the effect of his lordship's illness on the public
mind, that all classes had forgotten their usual recrea-
tions of Easter, even before the afflicting end was
apprehended.
The loss of this illustrious individual is undoubtedly
to be deplored by all Greece ; but it must be more
especially a subject of lamentation at Missolonghi,
where his generosity has been so conspicuously dis-
played, and of which he had even become a citizen,
with the ulterior determination of participating in all
the dangers of the war.
183
i84 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
Everybody 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 :
I St. To-morrow morning at daylight, 37 minute-
guns shall be fired from the grand battery, being the
number which corresponds with the age of the illus-
trious deceased.
2nd. All the public offices, even to the tribunals,
are to remain closed for three successive days.
3rd. All the shops, except those in which provisions
or medicines are sold, will also be shut ; and it is
strictly enjoined, that every species of public amuse-
ment and other demonstrations 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. Mavrocordato.
GiORGius Praidis,
Secretary.
Given at Missolonghi,
this 19th day of April, 1824.
At sunrise, on the day following Byron's death,
thirty-seven minute-guns were fired from the prin-
cipal battery; and one of the batteries belonging to
the corps immediately under his orders fired a gun
every half-hour during the day. We take the follow-
ing from Gamba's journal :
^ April 21. — For the remainder of this day and the
next, a silence, like that of the grave, prevailed over
the city. We had intended to perform the funeral
ceremony on the 21st, but the continued rain pre-
vented us. On the 22nd, however, we acquitted our-
selves of that sad duty, so far as our humble means
would permit. In the midst of his own brigade, of the
Government troops, and of the whole population, on
A FUNERAL ORATION 185
the shoulders of his own officers, the most precious
portion of his honoured remains was carried to the
church, where He the bodies of Marco Bozzari and of
General Normann. There we laid them down. The
coffin was a rude, ill-constructed chest of wood ; a
black mantle served for a pall ; and over it we placed
a helmet and sword, with a crown of laurels. No
funeral pomp could have left the impression, nor
spoken the feelings, of this simple ceremony. The
wretchedness and desolation of the place itself; the
wild, half-civilized warriors around us ; their deep,
unaffected grief; the fond recollections and disap-
pointed hopes ; the anxieties and sad presentiments
depicted on every countenance, contributed to form a
scene more moving, more truly affecting, than perhaps
was ever before witnessed round the coffin of a great
man.'
Spiridion Tricoupi, a son of one of the Primates of
Missolonghi, pronounced the funeral oration in the
following words, translated from the modern Greek by
an inhabitant of Missolonghi :
* Unlooked-for event ! Deplorable misfortune ! But
a short time has elapsed since the people of this deeply
suffering country welcomed, with unfeigned joy and
open arms, this celebrated individual to their bosoms.
To-day, overwhelmed with grief and despair, they
bathe his funeral couch with tears of bitterness, and
mourn over it with inconsolable affliction. On Easter
Sunday, the happy salutation of the day, " Christ is
risen," remained but half spoken on the lips of every
Greek ; and as they met, before even congratulating
one another on the return of that joyous day, the
universal question was, " How is Lord Byron ?"
Thousands assembled in the spacious plain outside
the city, to commemorate the sacred day, appeared
as if they had assembled for the sole purpose of implor-
ing the Saviour of the world to restore to health him
who was a partaker with us in our present struggle
for the deliverance of our native land. And how is it
possible that any heart should remain unmoved, any
lip closed, upon the present occasion ? Was ever
i86 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
Greece in greater want of assistance than when Lord
Byron, at the peril of his life, crossed over to Misso-
longhi ? 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 other-
wise rendered irremediable. How many and much
greater benefits did we not expect from him ! And
to-day, alas ! to-day, the unrelenting grave closes over
him and all 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 sufficient for us, for the well-proved
ability and profound judgment of our Governor, the
President of the Senate, would have insured our
safety with the means so supplied. 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 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 determined 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 came to share our
sufferings ; assisting us, not only with his wealth, of
which he was profuse ; not only with his judgment,
of which he has given us so many salutary examples ;
but with his sword, which he was preparing to un-
sheath against our barbarous and tyrannical oppressors.
He came — according to the testimony of those who
were intimate with him — with a determination to die
in Greece and for Greece. How, therefore, can we do
otherwise than lament with deep 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
A FUNERAL ORATION 187
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 true knowledge. I will not detain 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 acknowledged truth. There have been
many great and splendid nations in the world, but
few have been the epochs of their true glory : one
phenomenon, I am inclined to believe, is wanting in
the history of these nations, and one the 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
enslaved by barbarians, and more particularly by bar-
barians 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, 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
i88 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
sees it, and becomes more observant and more on his
guard. Such is the extraordinary time in which we
live. My friends, the insurrection of Greece is not an
epoch of our nation alone ; it is an epoch of all nations :
for, as I before observed, it is a phenomenon which
stands alone in the political history of nations.
* The great mind of the highly gifted and much
lamented Byron observed this phenomenon, and he
wished to unite his name with our glory. Other
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 were 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.
' 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 Philhellenic 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
the 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 !" he exclaimed ; and his spirit passed away.
What Grecian heart will not be deeply affected as
often as it recalls this moment ?
A FUNERAL ORATION 189
' Our tears, my friends, will be grateful, very grateful,
to his shade, for they are the tears of sincere affec-
tion ; 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 does he require from us for all his munificence ;
this reward for his love towards us ; this consolation
for his sufferings in our cause ; and this inheritance
for the loss of his invaluable life. When your exer-
tions, 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
propert;^, 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 tyran-
nical oppressors, will strew it with laurel ; the states-
man will consecrate it with his oratory ; and the poet,
resting upon the marble, will become doubly inspired ;
the virgins of Greece (whose beauty our illustrious
fellow-citizen Byron has celebrated in many of his
poems), without any longer fearing contamination from
the rapacious hands of our oppressors, crowning their
heads with garlands, will dance round it, and sing of
the beauty of our land, which the poet of our age has
already commemorated with such grace and truth.
But what sorrowful thought now presses upon my
mind ! My 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
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
190 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
orphans of Greece will be shed over the urn contain-
ing his precious heart, and over all the land of Greece,
for all the land of Greece is his tomb. As in the last
moments 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. Mis-
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 Missolonghi and fellow-countrymen of Greece follow
it, crowning it with their gratitude and bedewing it
with their tears ; it is blessed by the pious benedic-
tions and prayers of our Archbishop, Bishop, and all
our clergy. Learn, noble lady, learn that chieftains
bore it on their shoulders, and carried it to the church ;
thousands of Greek soldiers lined the way through
which it passed, with the muzzles of their muskets,
which had destroyed so many tyrants, pointed towards
the ground, as though they would war against that
earth which was to deprive them for ever of the sight
of their benefactor; — all this crowd of soldiers, ready
at a moment to march against the implacable enemy
of Christ and man, surrounded the funeral couch, and
swore never to forget the sacrifices made by your
father for us, and never to allow the spot where his
heart is placed to be trampled upon by barbarous and
tyrannical feet. Thousands of Christian voices were
in a 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 repose where the
righteous alone find rest'
'When the funeral service was over,' says Gamba,
* we left the bier in the middle of the church, where it
remained until the evening of the next day, guarded
by a detachment of his own brigade. The church was
crowded without cessation by those who came to
honour and to regret the benefactor of Greece.
' On the evening of the 23rd the bier was privately
carried back by Byron's officers to his own house.
The coffin was not closed until the 29th April.
MILLINGEN AND TRELAWNY 191
' Immediately after death Byron's countenance had
an air of calmness, mingled with a severity that seemed
gradually to soften. When I took a last look at him,
the expression, at least to my eyes, was truly sublime.'
Soon after death, Byron's body was embalmed, and
a report of the autopsy will be found in the Appendix.
Millingen says :
' Before we proceeded to embalm the body, we
could not refrain from pausing to contemplate the
lifeless clay of one who, but a few days before,
was the hope of a whole nation, and the admiration
of the civilized world. We could not but admire
the perfect symmetry of his body. Nothing could
surpass the beaut}'^ of his forehead ; its height was
extraordinary, and the protuberances under which the
nobler intellectual faculties are supposed to reside were
strongly pronounced. His hair, which curled naturally,
was quite grey ; the mustachios light-coloured. His
physiognomy had suffered little alteration, and still
preserved the sarcastic, haughty expression which
habitually characterized it. The chest was broad,
high -vaulted ; the waist very small; the muscular
system well pronounced ; the skin delicate and white ;
and the habit of the body plump. The only blemish
of his body, which might otherwise have vied with
that of Apollo himself, was the congenital malconfor-
mation of his left foot and leg. The foot was deformed
and turned inwards, and the leg was smaller and shorter
than the sound one.'*
Trelawny arrived at Missolonghi on April 24, after
the body had been embalmed. He states that Byron's
right leg was shorter than the other, and the right foot
was the most distorted, being twisted inwards, so that
only the edge could have touched the ground. The
discrepancy between Trelawny's statement and that
of Millingen is probably due to the fact that nearly
* For further evidence on this point, see ' Letters of Lord Byron,'
edited by Rowland Prothero, vol. i., pp. 9-1 1.
192 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
thirty-four years had passed before Trelawny's book
was written.
Trelawny wrote, from Fletcher's dictation, full par-
ticulars of Byron's last illness and death. It is pre-
sumably from these notes that Trelawny drafted
his letter to Colonel Stanhope, dated April 28, 1814.
In reference to that letter, Gamba says :
* The details there given of Lord Byron's last illness
and death are not quite correct. But where Mr.
Trelawny speaks of the general impression produced
by that lamentable event, he pathetically describes
what is recognized for truth by all those who were
witnesses of the melancholy scene.'
As Trelawny was not present during the illness
and death of Byron, he cannot be held responsible for
any inaccuracies that may appear in his ' Records.'
He merely wrote from Fletcher's dictation, without
adding one word of his own.
On Fletcher's return to England, he gave the follow-
ing evidence :
'My master 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 lordship 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 Cephalonia, made this attack
be more severely felt. Though rather feverish during
the night, his lordship slept pretty well, but complained
in the morning of a pain in his bones and a headache:
this did not, however, 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 appeared to be increasing. He was very
I
FLETCHER'S EVIDENCE 193
low, and complained of not having had any sleep
during the night. His lordship's appetite was also
quite gone. I prepared a little arrowroot, of which he
took three or four spoonfuls, saying it was very good,
but could take no more. It was not till the third day,
the 1 2th, that I began to be alarmed for my master.
In all his former colds he always slept well, and was
never affected by this slow fever. I therefore went to
Dr. Bruno and Mr. Millingen, the two medical atten-
dants, and inquired minutely into every circumstance
connected with my master's present illness : both
replied that there was no danger, and I might make
myself perfectly easy on the subject, for all would be
well in a few days. This was on the 13th. On the
following day I found my master in such a state, that
I could not feel happy without supplicating that he
would send to Zante for Dr. Thomas. After express-
ing my fears lest his lordship should get worse, he
desired me to consult the doctors; which I did, and
was told there was no occasion for calling in any
person, as they hoped all would be well in a few days.
Here I should remark that his lordship repeatedly
said, in the course of the day, he was sure the doctors
did not understand his disease; to which I answered,
"Then, my lord, have other advice, by all means."
"They tell me," said his lordship, "that it is only a
common cold, which, you know, I have had a thousand
times." " I am sure, my lord," said I, " that you never
had one of so serious a nature." " I think I never
had," was his lordship's answer. I repeated my sup-
plications 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 persuade 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 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
13
194 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
two spoonfuls of arrowroot on the i8th, 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 accord-
ingly my master was bled in the right arm on the
evening of the i6th, 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 urged my master to be bled, but 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
informed, for the first time, that it would be of no use,
as my master would be better, or no more, before the
arrival of Dr. Thomas. His lordship continued to get
worse : but Dr. Bruno said he thought letting blood
again would save his life ; and I lost no time in telling
my master how necessary it was to comply with the
doctor's wishes. To this he replied by saying he
feared they knew nothing about his disorder ; and
then, stretching out his arm, said, " Here, take my
arm, and do whatever you like." His lordship con-
tinued to get weaker; and on the 17th he was bled
twice in the morning, and at two o'clock in the after-
noon. The bleeding at both times was followed by
fainting fits, and he would have fallen down more than
once had I not caught him in my arms. In order to
prevent such an accident, I took care not to let his
lordship stir without supporting him. On this day my
master said to me twice, " I cannot sleep, and you well
know I have not been able to sleep for more than
a week : I know," added his lordship, " that a man can
only be a certain time without sleep, and then he must
go mad, without anyone being able to save him ; and I
would ten times sooner shoot myself than be mad, for
I am not afraid of dying — I am more fit to die than
people think." I do not, however, believe that his
lordship had any apprehension of his fate till the day
after, the i8th, when he said, " I fear you and Tita
will be ill by sitting up constantly night and day." I
I
THE CLOSING SCENE 195
answered, " We shall never leave your lordship till
you are better." As my master had a slight fit of
delirium on the i6th, I took care to remove the pistols
and stiletto which had hitherto been kept at his bed-
side in the night. On the i8th his lordship addressed
me frequently, and seemed to be very much dissatisfied
with his medical treatment. I then said, " Do allow
me to send for Dr. 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 like to see
other doctors here,"
* I did not lose a moment in obeying my master's
orders ; and on informing Dr. Bruno and Mr. Miilingen
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 immediately after,
" Now, pay attention." His lordship commenced by
saying, " You will be provided for." I begged him,
however, to proceed with things of more consequence.
He then continued, "Oh, my poor dear child! — my
dear Ada ! My God ! could I but have seen her !
Give her my blessing — and my dear sister Augusta
and her children; — and you will goto Lady Byron, and
say — tell her everything ; — you are friends with her."
13—2
196 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
His lordship appeared to be greatly affected at this
moment. Here my master's voice failed him, so that
1 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
perplexity, 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 my master ; " it is now too late,
and all is over !" I said, " Not our will, but God's be
done !" and he answered, " Yes, not mine be done — but
I will try." His lordship did indeed make several
efforts to speak, but could only repeat two or three
words at a time, such as "My wife! my child! my
sister ! You know all — you must say all — you know
my wishes." The rest was quite unintelligible.
*A consultation was now held about noon, when it
was determined to administer some Peruvian bark and
wine. My master had now been nine days without
any sustenance whatever, except what I have already
mentioned. With the exception of a few words which
can only interest those to whom they were addressed,
and which, if required, I shall communicate to them-
selves, it was impossible to understand anything 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 replied, "Yes, you may
call him." Mr. Parry desired him to compose himself
He shed tears, and apparently sunk into a slumber.
Mr. Parry went away, expecting to find him refreshed
on his return ; but it was the commencement of the
lethargy preceding his death. The last words I heard
my master utter were at six o'clock on the evening of
the i8th, 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
DEATH 197
Tita to assist me in raising his head, and I thought he
seemed to get quite stiff. The ratthng and choking
in the throat took place every half-hour; and we con-
tinued 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!" 1 exclaimed, "I fear his lordship is
gone." The doctors then felt his pulse, and said, " You
are right — he is gone." '
Dr. Bruno's answer to the above statement will be
found in the Appendix.
CHAPTER XVI
Several days passed after the requiem service held in
the Church of S. Spiridion. Meanwhile the necessary
preparations were made for transporting the body to
Zante. On May 2 the coffin was carried down to the
seaside on the shoulders of four military chiefs, and
attended in the same order as before. The guns of
the fortress saluted until the moment of embarkation.
The vessel which bore the body reached the island of
Zante on the third day after leaving Missolonghi,
having, as Gamba says, taken the same course exactly
as on the voyage out. The vessel, owing to head-winds,
was brought to anchor close to the same rocks where
Byron had sought shelter from the Turkish frigate.
' On the evening of the 4th May,' says Gamba, ' we
made the port of Zante, and heard that Lord Sidney
Osborne had arrived, but, not finding us in that island,
had sailed for Missolonghi.'
Blaquiere, who was at Zante at the time, says :
* The vessel was recognized at a considerable
distance, owing to her flag being at half-mast. She
entered the mole towards sunset. The body was
accompanied by the whole of his lordship's attendants,
who conveyed it to the lazaretto on the following
morning.'
During the time that the body of Lord Byron was
detained at the lazaretto, a discussion arose as to the
198
BLAQUIERE'S TRIBUTE 199
final disposal of the remains, Colonel Stanhope and
others being of opinion that they should be interred in
the Parthenon at Athens. It would seem that such a
course would have met with Byron's approval ; but, in
deference to what were then supposed to have been
the wishes of the poet's family, it was finally arranged
to charter the brig Florida, which had lately arrived
at Zante with the first instalment of the Greek loan.
In this connection, the last entry in Gamba's journal
may be quoted in full :
'A few days after our arrival at Zante, Colonel
Stanhope came from the Morea. He had already
written to inform us that the Greek chieftains of
Athens had expressed their desire that Lord Byron
should be buried in the Temple of Theseus. The
citizens of Missolonghi had made a similar request for
their town ; and we thought it advisable to accede
to their wishes so far as to leave with them, for inter-
ment, one of the vessels containing a portion of the
honoured remains. As he had not expressed any
wishes on the subject,* we thought the most becoming
course was to convey him to his native country.
Accordingly, the ship that had brought us the specie
was engaged for that purpose. Colonel Stanhope
kindly took charge; and on the 25th May the Florida,
having on board the remains of Lord Byron, set sail
for England from the port of Zante.'
The following tribute to Byron from the pen of
Blaquiere, written on May 24, 1824, must here be
given :
' Every letter of Byron's, in which any allusion was
made to the Greek cause, proved how judiciously
he viewed that great question, while it displayed a
thorough knowledge of the people he had come to
assist. This latter circumstance, which made him more
cautious in avoiding every interference calculated to
* It is difficult to reconcile this with Millingen's statement.
200 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
wound the self-love of the Greeks, who, though fallen,
are still remarkable for their pride, accounts for the
great popularity he had acquired.
* It may be truly said that no foreigner who has
hitherto espoused the cause made greater allowance
for the errors inseparable from it than did Lord
Byron.
' With respect to his opinion as to the best mode of
bringing the contest to a triumphant close, and healing
those differences which have been created by party
spirit or faction, there is reason to believe that the
subject occupied his particular attention, and he was
even more than once heard to say that " no person had
as yet hit upon the right plan for securing the independ-
ence of Greece."
' While sedulously employed in reconciling jarring
interests and promoting a spirit of union, the grand
maxim which he laboured to instil into the Greeks
was that of making every other object secondary and
subservient to the paramount one of driving out the
Turks.'
At six o'clock on the evening of that day, Blaquiere
added the following words :
' I have this instant returned on shore, after having
performed the melancholy duty of towing the remains
of Lord Byron alongside the Florida.
' I should add that, in consequence of there being no
means of procuring lead for the coffin at Zante, it was
arranged that the tin case prepared at Missolonghi
should be enclosed in wood ; so that there is now no
fear that the body will not reach England in perfect
preservation. The only mark of respect shown to-day
was displayed by the merchant vessels in the bay and
mole. The whole of these, whether English or foreign,
had their flags at half-mast, and many of them fired
guns. The Florida fired minute-guns from the time of
our leaving the lazaretto until we got alongside, when
the body was taken on board, and placed in a space
prepared for that purpose. The whole is painted
black, and, thanks to the foresight of my friend Robin-
son, an escutcheon very well executed designates the
mournful receptacle. Although no honours have been
HOBHOUSE'S OPINION OF BYRON 201
paid to the remains of our immortal poet here, we look
forward with melancholy satisfaction to those which
await him in the land of his birth.
* However bitterly his pen may have lashed the vices
and follies of his day, it is not the least honourable
trait in our national character that neither personal
dislike nor those prejudices which arise from literary
jealousy and political animosity prevent us from duly
appreciating departed worth, and even forgetting those
aberrations to which all are more or less liable in this
state of imperfection and fallibility.'
The following extracts are taken from Lord
Broughton's 'Recollections of a Long Life,' a work
that was printed, but not published, in 1865. As the
opinions of Byron's life-long friend, John Cam Hob-
house, they cannot fail to interest the reader :*
' How much soever the Greeks of that day may have
differed on other topics, there was no difference of
opinion in regard to the loss they had sustained by the
death of Byron. Those who have read Colonel
Leicester Stanhope's interesting volume, " Greece in
1823 and 1824," and more particularly Colonel Stan-
hope's "Sketch" and Mr. Finlay's "Reminiscences" of
Byron, will have seen him just as he appeared to me
during our long intimacy. I liked him a great deal too
well to be an impartial judge of his character ; but I
can confidently appeal to the impressions he made
upon the two above-mentioned witnesses of his con-
duct, under very trying circumstances, for a justifica-
tion of my strong affection for him — an affection not
weakened by the forty years of a busy and chequered
life that have passed over me since I saw him laid in
his grave.
* The influence he had acquired in Greece was un-
bounded, and he had exerted it in a manner most
useful to her cause. Lord Sidney Osborne, writing
to Mrs. Leigh, said that, if Byron had never written a
line in his life, he had done enough, during the last six
months in Greece, to immortalize his name. He added
* Edinburgh Review, April, 1871, pp. 294-298.
202 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
that no one unacquainted with the circumstances of
the case could have any idea of the difficulties he had
overcome. He had reconciled the contending parties,
and had given a character of humanity and civilization
to the warfare in which they were engaged, besides
contriving to prevent them from offending their power-
ful neighbours in the Ionian Islands.
' I heard that Sir F. Adam,* in a despatch to Lord
Bathurst, bore testimony to his great qualities, and
lamented his death as depriving the Ionian Govern-
ment of the only man with whom they could act with
safety. Mavrocordato, in his letter to Dr. Bowring,
called him " a great man," and confessed that he was
almost ignorant how to act when deprived of such a
coadjutor. . . . On Thursday, July i, I heard that the
Florida^ with the remains of Byron, had arrived in the
Downs, and I went the same evening to Rochester.
The next morning I went to Standgate Creek, and,
taking a boat, went on board the vessel. There I
found Colonel Leicester Stanhope, Dr. Bruno, Fletcher,
Byron's valet, with three others of his servants. Three
dogs that had belonged to my friend were playing about
the deck. I could hardly bring myself to look at them.
The vessel had got under-weigh, and we beat up the
river to Gravesend. I cannot describe what I felt
during the five or six hours of our passage. I was
the last person who shook hands with Byron when he
left England in 1816. I recollected his waving his cap
to me as the packet bounded off on a curling wave
from the pier-head at Dover, and here I was now
coming back to England with his corpse.
' Poor Fletcher burst into tears when he first saw
me, and wept bitterly when he told me the particulars
of my friend's last illness. These have been frequently
made public, and need not be repeated here. I heard,
however, on undoubted authority, that until he became
delirious he was perfectly calm ; and I called to mind
how often I had heard him say that he was not app)re-
hensive as to death itself, but as to how, from physical
infirmity, he might behave at that inevitable hour. On
one occasion he said to me, " Let no one come near me
* He succeeded Sir Thomas Maitland as High Commissioner of
the Ionian Islands.
BYRON AND WESTMINSTER ABBEY 203
when I am dying, if you can help it, and we happen to
be together at the time."
* The Florida anchored at Gravesend, and I returned
to London ; Colonel Stanhope accompanied me. This
was on Friday, July 2. On the following Monday I
went to Doctors' Commons and proved Byron's will.
Mr. Hanson did so likewise. Thence I went to London
Bridge, got into a boat, and went to London Docks
Buoy, where the Florida was anchored. I found Mr.
Woodeson, the undertaker, on board, employed in
emptying the spirit from the large barrel containing
the box that held the corpse. This box was removed,
and placed on deck by the side of a leaden coffin. I
sta3^ed whilst the iron hoops were knocked off the
box ; but I could not bear to see the remainder of the
operation, and went into the cabin. Whilst there I
looked over the sealed packet of papers belonging to
Byron, which he had deposited at Cephalonia, and
which had not been opened since he left them there.
Captain Hodgson of the Florida, the captain's father,
and Fletcher, were with me ; we examined every paper,
and did not find any will. Those present signed a
document to that effect.
'After the removal of the corpse into the coffin, and
the arrival of the order from the Custom-house, I
accompanied the undertaker in the barge with the
coffin. There were many boats round the ship at the
time, and the shore was crowded with spectators. We
passed quietly up the river, and landed at Palace Yard
stairs. Thence the coffin and the small chest contain-
ing the heart were carried to the house in George
Street, and deposited in the room prepared for their
reception. The room was decently hung with black,
but there was no other decoration than an escutcheon
of the Byron arms, roughly daubed on a deal board.
*On reaching my rooms at the Albany, I found a
note from Mr. Murray, telling me that he had received
a letter from Dr. Ireland, politely declining to allow
the burial of Byron in Westminster Abbey; but it
was not until the next day that, to my great surprise,
I learnt, on reading the doctor's note, that Mr. Murray
had made the request to the Dean in my name. I
thought that it had been settled that Mr. Gifford should
sound the Dean of Westminster previously to any
204 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
formal request being made. I wrote to Mr. Murray,
asking him to inform the Dean that I had not made
the request. Whether he did so, I never inquired.
' I ascertained from Mrs. Leigh that it was wished
the interment should take place at the family vault at
Hucknall in Nottinghamshire. The utmost eagerness
was shown, both publicly and privately, to get sight
of anything connected with Byron. Lafayette was at
that time on his way to America, and a young French-
man came over from the General at Havre, and wrote
me a note requesting a sight of the deceased poet.
The coffin had been closed, and his wishes could not
be complied with. A young man came on board the
Florida^ and in very moving terms besought me to
allow him to take one look at him. I was sorry to be
obliged to refuse, as I did not know the young man,
and there were many round the vessel who would
have made the same request. He was bitterly dis-
appointed ; and when I gave him a piece of the cotton
in which the corpse had been wrapped, he took it
with much devotion, and placed it in his pocket-book.
Mr. Phillips, the Academician, applied for permission
to take a likeness, but I heard from Mrs. Leigh that
the features of her brother had been so disfigured by
the means used to preserve his remains, that she
scarcely recognized them. This was the fact ; for I
had summoned courage enough to look at my dead
friend ; so completely was he altered, that the sight
did not affect me so much as looking at his hand-
writing, or anything that I knew had belonged to him.'
The following account by Colonel Leicester Stan-
hope, probably outlined during his voyage home with
Byron's body, is well worth reading. It unveils the
personality of Byron as he appeared during those
trying times at Missolonghi, when, tortured by illness
and worried by dissensions among his coadjutors, he
gave his life to Greece. Stanhope's sketch conveys
the honest opinion of a man whose political views,
differing fundamentally from those of Byron, brought
them often in collision. But for this reason, perhaps,
LEICESTER STANHOPE ON BYRON 205
this record is the more valuable. It is written without
prejudice, with considerable perspicuity, and with
unquestionable sincerity. Its peculiar value lies in the
approval which, as we have seen, it received from
Mr. Hobhouse, who undoubtedly was better acquainted
with the character of Byron than any of his con-
temporaries.
' In much of what certain authors have lately said in
praise of Lord Byron I concur. The public are in-
debted to them for useful information concerning that
extraordinary man's biography. I do not, however,
think that any of them have given of him a full and
masterly description. It would require a person of his
own wonderful capacity to draw his character, and
even he could not perform this task otherwise than by
continuing the history of what passed in his mind ; for
his character was as versatile as his genius. From his
writings, therefore, he must be judged, and from them
can he alone be understood. His character was, indeed,
poetic, like his works, and he partook of the virtues
and vices of the heroes of his imagination. Lord
Byron was original and eccentric in all things, and his
conduct and his writings were unlike those of other
men. He might have said with Rousseau : " Moi seul.
Je sens mon coeur et je connois les hommes. Je ne
suis fait comme aucun de ceux qui existent. Si je ne
vaux pas mieux, au moins, je suis autre. Si la nature
a bien ou mal fait de briser le moule dans lequel elle
m'a jette, c'est dont on ne pent juger qu'apres m'avoir
lu." All that can be hoped is, that, after a number of
the ephemeral sketches of Lord Byron have been pub-
lished, and ample information concerning him obtained,
some master-hand will undertake the task of drawing
his portrait. If anything like justice be done to Lord
Byron, his character will appear far more extraordinary
than any his imagination has produced, and not less
wonderful than those sublime and inimitable sketches
created and painted by the fanciful pen of Shakespeare.
' There were two circumstances which appear to me
to have had a powerful influence on Byron's conduct.
I allude to his lameness and his marriage. The de-
2o6 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
formity of his foot constantly preyed on his spirits and
soured his temper. It is extraordinary, however, and
contrary, I believe, to the conduct of the generality of
lame persons, that he pitied, sympathized, and be-
friended, those who laboured under similar defects.
' With respect to Lady B3^ron, her image appeared
to be rooted in his mind. She had wounded Lord
Byron's pride by having refused his first offer of
marriage ; by having separated herself from him whom
others assiduously courted ; and by having resisted all
the efforts of his genius to compel her again to yield
to his dominion. Had Lady Byron been submissive,
could she have stooped to become a caressing slave,
like other ingenious slaves, she might have governed
her lord and master. But no, she had a mind too
great, and was too much of an Englishwoman to bow
so low. These contrarieties set Lord Byron's heart
on fire, roused all his passions, gave birth, no doubt,
to many of his sublimest thoughts, and impelled him
impetuously forward in his zigzag career. When
angry or humorous, she became the subject of his wild
sport ; at other times she seemed, though he loved
her not, to be the mistress of his feelings, and one
whom he in vain attempted to cast from his thoughts.
Thus, in a frolicsome tone, I have heard him sketch
characters, and, speaking of a certain acquaintance, say,
" With the exception of Southey and Lady Byron,
there is no one 1 hate so much." This was a noisy
shot — a sort of a feu de joie, that inflicted no wound,
and left no scar behind. Lord Byron was in reality a
good-natured man, and it was a violence to his nature,
which he seldom practised, either to conceal what he
thought or to harbour revenge. In one conversation
which I had with Lord Byron, he dwelt much upon
the acquirements and virtues of Lady Byron, and even
said she had committed no fault but that of having
married him. The truth is, that he was not formed
for marriage. His riotous genius could not bear re-
straint. No woman could have lived with him but one
devoid of, or of subdued, feelings — an Asiatic slave.
Lord Byron, it is well known, was passionately fond
of his child ; of this he gave me the following proof.
He showed me a miniature of Ada, as also a clever
description of her character, drawn by her mother, and
BYRON FIRM AS A ROCK 207
forwarded to him by the person he most esteemed, his
amiable sister. After I had examined the letter, while
reflecting on its contents, I gazed intently on the
picture ; Lord Byron, observing me in deep meditation,
impatiently said, "Well, well, what do you think of
Ada ?" I replied, " If these are true representations
of Ada, and are not drawn to flatter your vanity, you
have engrafted on her your virtues and your failings.
She is in mind and feature the very image of her
father." Never did I see man feel more pleasure than
Lord Byron felt at this remark; his eyes lightened
with ecstasy.
' Lord Byron's mental and personal courage was
unlike that of other men. To the superficial observer
his conduct seemed to be quite unsettled ; this was
really the case to a certain extent. His genius was
boundless and excursive, and in conversation his
tongue went rioting on
' " From grave to gay, from lively to severe."
'Still, upon the whole, no man was more constant,
and, I may almost say, more obstinate in the pursuit
of some great objects. For example, in religion and
politics he seemed firm as a rock, though like a rock
he was subjected to occasional rude shocks, the con-
vulsions of agitated nature.
' The assertions I have ventured to make of Lord
Byron having fixed opinions on certain material ques-
tions are not according to his own judgment. From
what fell from his own lips, 1 could draw no such
conclusions, for, in conversing with me on government
and religion, and after going wildly over these subjects,
sometimes in a grave and philosophical, and sometimes
in a laughing and humorous strain, he would say :
*' The more I think, the more I doubt; I am a perfect
sceptic." In contradiction to this assertion, I set Lord
Byron's recorded sentiments, and his actions from the
period of his bo3^hood to that of his death ; and I con-
tend that although he occasionally veered about, yet
he always returned to certain fixed opinions ; and that
he felt a constant attachment to liberty, according to
our notions of liberty, and that, although no Christian,
he was a firm believer in the existence of a God. It
is, therefore, equally remote from truth to represent
2o8 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
him as either an atheist or a Christian : he was, as he
has often told me, a confirmed deist.
' Lord Byron was no party politician. Lord Clare
was the person whom he liked best, because he was
his old school acquaintance. Mr. John Cam Hobhouse
was his long-tried, his esteemed, and valued literary
and personal friend. Death has severed these, but
there is a soul in friendship that can never die. No man
ever chose a nobler friend. Mr. Hobhouse has given
many proofs of this, and among others, I saw him,
from motives of high honour, destroy a beautiful poem
of Lord Byron's, and, perhaps, the last he ever com-
posed. The same reason that induced Mr. H. to tear
this fine manuscript will, of course, prevent him or
me from ever divulging its contents. Mr. Douglas
Kinnaird was another for whom Lord Byron enter-
tained the sincerest esteem : no less on account of his
high social qualities, than as a clear-sighted man of
business, on whose discretion he could implicitly rely.
Sir Francis Burdett was the politician whom he most
admired. He used to say, " Burdett is an Englishman
of the old school." He compared the Baronet to the
statesmen of Charles I.'s time, whom he considered
the sternest and loftiest spirits that Britain had pro-
duced. Lord Byron entertained high aristocratic
notions, and had much family pride. He admired,
notwithstanding, the American institutions, but did not
consider them of so democratic a nature as is generally
imagined. He found, he said, many Englishmen and
English writers more imbued with liberal notions than
those Americans and American authors with whom he
was acquainted.
* Lord Byron was chivalrous even to Quixotism.
This might have lowered him in the estimation of the
wise, had he not given some extraordinary proofs of
the noblest courage. For example, the moment he
recovered from that alarming fit which took place in
my room, he inquired again and again, with the utmost
composure, whether he was in danger. If in danger,
he desired the physician honestly to apprise him of
it, for he feared not death. Soon after this dreadful
paroxysm, when Lord Byron, faint with overbleeding,
was lying on his sick-bed, with his whole nervous
system completely shaken, the mutinous Suliotes,
A SUBLIME SCENE 209
covered with dirt and splendid attires, broke into his
apartment, brandishing their costly arms, and loudly
demanding their wild rights. Lord Byron, electrified
by this unexpected act, seemed to recover from his
sickness ; and the more the Suliotes raged, the more
his calm courage triumphed. The scene was truly
sublime.
* At times Lord Byron would become disgusted
with the Greeks, on account of their horrid cruelties,
their delays, their importuning him for money, and their
not fulfilling their promises. That he should feel thus
was very natural, although all this is just what might be
anticipated from a people breaking loose from ages of
bondage. We are too apt to expect the same conduct
from men educated as slaves (and here be it remem-
bered that the Greeks were the Helots of slaves) that
we find in those who have, from their infancy, breathed
the wholesome atmosphere of liberty.
* Most persons assume a virtuous character. Lord
Byron's ambition, on the contrary, was to make the
world imagine that he was a sort of ** Satan," though
occasionally influenced by lofty sentiments to the per-
formance of great actions. Fortunately for his fame,
he possessed another quality, by which he stood com-
pletely unmasked, tie was the most ingenuous of
men, and his nature, in the main good, always
triumphed over his acting.
* There was nothing that he detested more than to
be thought merely a great poet, though he did not
wish to be esteemed inferior as a dramatist to Shak-
speare. Like Voltaire, he was unconsciously jealous
of, and for that reason abused, our immortal bard.
His mind was absorbed in detecting Shakspeare's
glaring defects, instead of being overpowered by his
wonderful creative and redeeming genius. He assured
me that he was so far from being a " heaven-born
poet " that he was not conscious of possessing any
talent in that way when a boy. This gift had burst
upon his mind unexpectedly, as if by inspiration, and
had excited his wonder. He also declared that he had
no love or enthusiasm for poetry. I shook my head
doubtingly, and said to him that, although he had dis-
played a piercing sagacity in reading and developing
the characters of others, he knew but little of his own.
14
2IO BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
He replied : " Often have I told you that I am a perfect
sceptic. I have no fixed opinions ; that is my character.
Like others, I am not in love with what I possess, but
with that which I do not possess, and which is difficult
to obtain." Lord Byron was for shining as a hero of
the first order. He wished to take an active part in
the civil and military government of Greece.* On this
subject he consulted me; I condemned the direct
assumption of command by a foreigner, fearing that
it would expose him to envy and danger without pro-
moting the cause. I wished him, by a career of perfect
disinterestedness, to preserve a commanding influence
over the Greeks, and to act as their great mediator.
Lord Byron listened to me with unusual and courteous
politeness, for he suspected my motives — he thought
me envious — jealous of his increasing power; and
though he did not disregard, did not altogether follow
my advice. I was not, however, to be disarmed either
by politeness or suspicions ; they touched me not, for
my mind was occupied with loftier thoughts. The
attack was renewed the next day in a mild tone. The
collision, however, of Lord Byron's arguments, spark-
ling with jests, and mine, regardless of his brilliancy
and satire, all earnestness, ended as usual in a storm.
Though most anxious to assume high power. Lord
Byron was still modest. He said to me, laughing,
that if Napier came, he would supersede himself, as
Governor and Commander of Western Greece, in
favour of that distinguished officer. I laughed at this
whimsical expression till I made Lord Byron laugh,
too, and repeat over again that he would " supersede
himself."
' The mind of Lord Byron was like a volcano, full of
fire and wealth, sometimes calm, often dazzling and
playful, but ever threatening. It ran swift as the
lightning from one subject to another, and occasionally
burst forth in passionate throes of intellect, nearly
allied to madness. A striking instance of this sort of
eruption I shall mention. Lord Byron's apartments
were immediately over mine at Missolonghi. In the
dead of the night I was frequently startled from my
sleep by the thunders of his lordship's voice, either
* This must be taken cum 'Jvano salts.
CHARACTERISTICS OF BYRON 211
raging with anger or roaring with laughter, and rousing
friends, servants, and, indeed, all the inmates of the
dwelling, from their repose. Even when in the utmost
danger, Lord Byron contemplated death with calm
philosophy. He was, however, superstitious, and
dreadfully alarmed at the idea of going mad, which he
predicted would be his sad destiny.
'As a companion, no one could be more amusing;
he had neither pedantry nor affectation about him, but
was natural and playful as a boy. His conversation
resembled a stream, sometimes smooth, sometimes
rapid, and sometimes rushing down in cataracts ; it
was a mixture of philosophy and slang — of everything
— like his " Don Juan." He was a patient and, in
general, a very attentive listener. When, however,
he did engage with earnestness in conversation, his
ideas succeeded each other with such uncommon
rapidity that he could not control them. They burst
from him impetuously ; and although he both at-
tended to and noticed the remarks of others, yet he
did not allow these to check his discourse for an
instant.
' Lord Byron professed a deep-rooted antipathy to
the English, though he was always surrounded by
Englishmen, and, in reality, preferred them (as he did
Italian women) to all others. I one day accused him
of ingratitude to his countrymen. For many years, I
observed, he had been, in spite of his faults, and
although he had shocked all her prejudices, the pride,
and I might almost say the idol, of Britain. He said
they must be a stupid race to worship such an idol,
but he had at last cured their superstition, as far as
his divinity was concerned, by the publication of his
" Cain." It was true, I replied, that he had now lost
their favour. This remark stung him to the soul, for
he wished not only to occupy the public mind, but to
command, by his genius, public esteem.
' This extraordinary person, whom everybody was
as anxious to see, and to know, as if he had been a
Napoleon, the conqueror of the world, had a notion
that he was hated, and avoided like one who had
broken quarantine. He used often to mention to me
the kindness of this or that insignificant individual, for
having given him a good and friendly reception. In
14 — 2
213 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
this particular Lord Byron was capricious, for at
Genoa he would scarcely see anyone but those who
lived in his own family ; whereas at Cephalonia
he was to everyone and at all times accessible. At
Genoa he acted the misanthropist ; at Cephalonia he
appeared in his genuine character, doing good, and
rather courting than shunning society.
* Lord Byron conceived that he possessed a profound
knowledge of mankind, and of the working of their
passions. In this he judged right. He could fathom
every mind and heart but his own, the extreme depths
of which none ever reached. On my arrival Irom
England at Cephalonia, his lordship asked me what
new publications I had brought out. Among others I
mentioned " The Springs of Action." " Springs of
Action !" said Lord Byron, stamping with rage with
his lame foot, and then turning sharply on his heel, " I
don't require to be taught on this head. I know well
what are the springs of action." Some time after-
wards, while speaking on another subject, he desired
me to lend him " The Springs of Action." He
then suddenly changed the conversation to some
humorous remarks for the purpose of diverting my
attention. I could not, however, forbear remind-
ing him of his former observations and his furious
stamp.
' Avarice and great generosity were among Lord
Byron's qualities ; these contrarieties are said not un-
frequently to be united in the same person. As an
instance of Lord Byron's parsimony, he was constantly
attacking Count Gamba, sometimes, indeed, playfully,
but more often with the bitterest satire, for having
purchased for the use of his family, while in Greece,
500 dollars' worth of cloth. This he used to mention
as an instance of the Count's imprudence and extrav-
agance. Lord Byron told me one day, with a tone
of great gravity, that this 500 dollars would have
been most serviceable in promoting the siege of
Lepanto ; and that he never would, to the last moment
of his existence, forgive Gamba for having squan-
dered away his money in the purchase of cloth. No
one will suppose that Lord Byron could be serious
in such a denunciation ; he entertained, in reality, the
highest opinion of Count Gamba, who both on account
BYRON'S GENEROSITY 213
of his talents and devotedness to his friend merited
his lordship's esteem.
* Lord Byron's generosity is before the world ; he
promised to devote his large income to the cause of
Greece, and he honestly acted up to his pledge. It
was impossible for Lord Byron to have made a more
useful, and therefore a more noble, sacrifice of his
wealth, than by devoting it, ivith discretion, to the
Greek cause. He set a bright example to the million-
aires of his ovv'n country, who certainly show but little
public spirit. Most of them expend their fortunes in
acts of ostentation or selfishness. Few there are of
this class who will devote, perchance, the hundredth
part of their large incomes to acts of benevolence or
bettering the condition of their fellow-men. None of
our millionaires, with all their pride and their boasting
have had the public virtue, like Lord Byron, to sacrifice
their incomes or their lives in aid of a people struggling
for liberty,
* Lord Byron's reading was desultory, but extensive ;
his memory was retentive to an extraordinary extent.
He was partial to the Italian poets, and is said to have
borrowed from them. Their fine thoughts he certainly
associated with his own, but with such skill that he
could not be accused of plagiarism. Lord Byron
possessed, indeed, a genius absolutely boundless, and
could create with such facihty that it would have been
irksome to him to have become a servile imitator.
He was original in all things, but especially as a
poet.
' The study of voyages and travels was that in which
he most delighted ; their details he seemed actually to
devour. He would sit up all night reading them.
His whole soul was absorbed in these adventures, and
he appeared to personify the traveller. Lord Byron
had a particular aversion to business ; his familiar
letters were scrawled out at a great rate, and resembled
his conversations. Rapid as were his tongue and his
pen, neither could keep pace with the quick succession
of ideas that flashed across his mind. He hated nothing
more than writing formal official letters ; this drudgery
he would generally put off from day to day, and finish
by desiring Count Gamba, or some other friend, to
perform the task. No wonder that Lord Byron should
214 BYRON : THE LAST PHASE
dislike this dry antipoetic work, and which he, in
reality, performed with so much difficulty. Lord
Byron's arduous yet unsuccessful labours in this
barren field put me in mind of the difficulty which one
of the biographers of Addison describes this politician
to have experienced, when attempting to compose
an official paragraph for the Gazette announcing the
death of the Queen. This duty, after a long and
ineffectual attempt, the Minister, in despair, handed
over to a clerk, who (not being a genius, but a man of
business) performed it in an instant.
* Not less was Lord Byron's aversion to reading than
to writing official documents ; these he used to hand
over to me, pretending, spite of all my protestations to
the contrary, that I had a passion for documents. When
once Lord Byron had taken any whim into his head, he
listened not to contradiction, but went on laughing and
satirizing till his joke had triumphed over argument
and fact. Thus I, for the sake of peace, was sometimes
silent, and suffered him to good-naturedly bully me
into reading over, or, rather, yawning over, a mass of
documents dull and uninteresting.
* Lord Byron once told me, in a humorous tone,
but apparently quite in earnest, that he never could
acquire a competent knowledge of arithmetic. Addition
and subtraction he said he could, though with
some difficulty, accomplish. The mechanism of the
rule of three pleased him, but then division was a
puzzle he could not muster up sufficient courage to
unravel. I mention this to show of how low a cast
Lord Byron's capacity was in some commonplace
matters, where he could not command attention. The
reverse was the case on subjects of a higher order, and
in those trifling ones, too, that pleased his fancj'-. Moved
by such themes, the impulses of his genius shot forth,
by day and night, from his troubled brain, electric
sparks or streams of light, like blazing meteors.
* Lord Byron loved Greece. Her climate and her
scenery, her history, her struggles, her great men and
her antiquities, he admired. He declared that he had
no mastery over his own thoughts. In early youth he
was no poet, nor was he now, except when the fit was
upon him, and he felt his mind agitated and feverish.
These attacks, he continued, scarcely ever visited him
THE FUNERAL PROCESSION 215
anywhere but in Greece ; there he felt himself ex-
hilarated — metamorphosed into another person, and
with another soul — in short, never had he, but in
Greece, written one good line of poetry. This is a fact
exaggerated, as facts often are, by the impulses of strong
feelings. It is not on that account less calculated to
convey to others the character of Lord Byron's mind,
or to impress it the less upon their recollections.
* Once established at Missolonghi, it required some
great impetus to move Lord Byron from that unhealthy
swamp. On one occasion, when irritated by the Suliotes
and the constant applications for money, he intimated
his intention to depart. The citizens of Missolonghi
and the soldiers grumbled, and communicated to me,
through Dr. Meyer, their discontent. I repeated what
I had heard to 'Lord Byron. He replied, calmly, that
he would rather be cut to pieces than imprisoned, for
he came to aid the Greeks in their struggle for liberty,
and not to be their slave. No wonder that the " Hel-
lenists" endeavoured to impede Lord Byron's departure,
for even I, a mere soldier, could not escape from Mis-
solonghi, Athens, Corinth, or Salona, without consider-
able difficulty. Some time previous to Lord Byron's
death, he began to feel a restlessness and a wish to
remove to Athens or to Zante.'
On Monday, July 12, at eleven o'clock in the morn-
ing, the funeral procession, attended by a great number
of carriages and by crowds of people, left No. 20, Great
George Street, Westminster, and, passing the Abbey,
moved slowly to St. Pancras Gate. Here a halt was
made ; the carriages returned, and the hearse proceeded
by slow stages to Nottingham.
The Mayor and Corporation of Nottingham now
joined the funeral procession. Mr. Hobhouse, who
attended, tells us that the cortege extended about
a quarter of a mile, and, moving very slowly, was five
hours on the road to Hucknall-Torkard.
'The view of it as it wound through the villages
of Papplewick and Lindlay excited sensations in me
2i6 BYRON: THE LAST PHASE
which will never be forgotten. As we passed under
the Hill of Annesley, "crowned with the peculiar
diadem of trees " immortalized by Byron, I called to
mind a thousand particulars of my first visit to New-
stead. It was dining at Annesley Park that I saw the
first interview of Byron, after a long interval, with his
early love, Mary Anne Chaworth.
* The churchyard and the little church of Hucknall
were so crowded that it was with difficulty we could
follow the coffin up the aisle. The contrast between
the gorgeous decorations of the coffin and the urn,
and the humble village church, was very striking. I
was told afterwards that the place was crowded until
a late hour in the evening, and that the vault was not
closed until the next morning.
' I should mention that I thought Lady Byron ought
to be consulted respecting the funeral of her husband ;
and I advised Mrs. Leigh to write to her, and ask what
her wishes might be. Her answer was, if the deceased
had left no instructions, she thought the matter might
be left to the judgment of Mr. Hobhouse. There was
a postscript, saying, " If you like you may show this." '
Hobhouse concludes his account with these words :
' I was present at the marriage of this lady with my
friend, and handed her into the carriage which took
the bride and bridegroom away. Shaking hands with
Lady Byron, I wished her all happiness. Her answer
was : " If I am not happy, it will be my own fault." '
PART II
WHAT THE POEMS rAVeAL
' Intesi, che a cosi fatto tormento
Enno dannati i peccator carnali
Che la ragion sommettono al talento.'
Inferno, Canto V., 37-39.
WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
' Every author in some degree portrays himself in his works, even
be it against his will.' — Goethe.
Lady Byron has expressed her opinion that almost
every incident in Byron's poems was drawn from his
personal experience. In a letter to Lady Anne Bar-
nard, written two years after the separation, she says :
' In regard to [Byron's] poetry, egotism is the vital
principle of his imagination, which it is difficult for
him to kindle on any subject with which his own
character and interests are not identified ; but by the
introduction of fictitious incidents, by change of scene
or time, he has enveloped his poetical disclosures in a
system impenetrable except to a very few.'
Byron himself has told us in 'Don Juan' that his
music 'has some mystic diapasons, with much which
could not be appreciated in any manner by the
uninitiated.' In a letter to John Murray (August 23,
1 821), he says: 'Almost all "Don Juan" is real life,
either my own or from people I knew.'
It is no exaggeration to say that in Byron's poems
some of the mysterious incidents in his life are plainly
revealed. For example, ' Childe Harold,' ' The Giaour,'
'The Bride of Abydos,' 'The Corsair,' 'Lara,' 'The
Dream,' ' Manfred,' ' Don Juan,' and several of the
smaller pieces, all disclose episodes connected with his
own personal experience. In the so-called ' Fugitive
Pieces ' we get a glimpse of his school life and friend-
219
220 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
ships; his pursuits during the time that he resided
with his mother at Southwell ; and his introduction to
Cambridge. In the * Hours of Idleness ' we are intro-
duced to Mary Chaworth, after her marriage and the
ruin of his hopes.
In the verse * Remembrance ' we realize that the
dawn of his life is overcast. We see, from some verses
written in 1808, how, three years after that marriage,
he was still the victim of a fatal infatuation :
' I deem'd that Time, I deem'd that Pride,
Had quench'd at length my boyish flame ;
Nor knew, till seated by thy side.
My heart in all — save hope — the same.'
After lingering for three months in the neighbour-
hood of the woman whom he so unwisely loved, he
finally resolved to break the chain :
' In flight I shall be surely wise.
Escaping from temptation's snare ;
I cannot view my Paradise
Without the wish of dwelling there.'
When about to leave England, in vain pursuit of the
happiness he had lost, he addresses passionate verses
to Mary Chaworth :
' And I must from this land be gone.
Because I cannot love but one.'
He tells her that he has had love passages with
another woman, in the vain hope of destroying the
love of his life :
* But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.'
He wished to say farewell, but dared not trust him-
self. In the cantos of ' Childe Harold,' written during
THE 'THYRZA' POEMS 221
his absence, he recurs to the subject nearest to his
heart. He says that before leaving Newstead —
' Oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood
Strange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's brow,
As if the memory of some deadly fetid
Or disappointed passion lurked below :
But this none knew, nor haply cared to know.'
He mentions his mother, from whom he dreaded to
part, and his sister Augusta, whom he loved, but had
not seen for some time. After his return to England
in 181 1, he wrote the ' Thyrza ' poems, and added some
stanzas to * Childe Harold,' wherein he expresses
a hope that the separation between himself and Mary
Chaworth may not be eternal. He then pours out the
sorrows of his heart to B'rancis Hodgson. We cannot
doubt that the * Lines written beneath a Picture,'
composed at Athens in January, 181 1,
* Dear object of defeated care !
Though now of Love and thee bereft,'
referred to Mary Chaworth, for he mentions the death-
blow of his hope. In the ' Epistle to a Friend,' Byron
mentions the effect which a chance meeting with Mary
had upon him, causing him to realize that ' Time had
not made him love the less.'
The poems that have puzzled the commentator most
were those which Byron addressed to ' Thyrza ' —
a mysterious personage, whose identity has not
hitherto been discovered. The present writer proposes
to enter fully, and, he hopes, impartially, into the
subject, trusting that the conclusions at which he
has arrived may ultimately be endorsed by others
who have given their serious attention to the question
at issue.
In any attempt to unravel the mystery of the
222 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
' Thyrza ' poems, it will be necessary to consider, not
only the circumstances in which they were written,
but also those associations of Byron's youth which
inspired a love that endured throughout his life.
Byron's attachment to his distant cousin, Mary Anne
Chaworth, is well known. We know that his boyish
love was not returned, and that the young heiress of
Annesley married, in 1805, Mr. John Musters, of
Colwick, in the neighbourhood of Nottingham. In
order to account for these love-poems, it has been
suggested that, subsequent to this marriage, Byron
fell in love with some incognita, whose identity has
never been established, and who died soon after his
return to England in 181 1.
We are unable to concur with so simple a solution
of the mystery, for the following reasons : It will
be remembered that shortly after Mary Chaworth's
marriage Byron entered Trinity College, Cambridge,
where he formed a romantic attachment to a young
chorister, named Edleston, whose life he had saved
from drowning. Writing to Miss Elizabeth Pigot on
June 30, 1807, Byron says :
* I quit Cambridge with very little regret, because
our set are vanished, and my musical protege (Edleston),
before mentioned, has left the choir, and is stationed
in a mercantile house of considerable eminence in the
Metropolis. You may have heard me observe he is,
exactly to an hour, two years younger than myself.
I found him grown considerably, and, as you may
suppose, very glad to see his former Patron* He is
nearly my height, very thin, very fair complexion, dark
eyes, and light locks.
' My opinion of his mind you already know ; I hope
I shall never have occasion to change it.'
* They appear to have met accidentally in Trinity Walks a few
days earlier. Edleston did not at first recognize Byron, who had
grown so thin.
FRIENDSHIP WITH EDLESTON 223
On July 5, 1807, Byron again wrote to Miss Pigot :
' At this moment I write witli a bottle of claret in
my head and tears in my eyes ; for I have just parted
with my "Cornelian,"* who spent the evening with
me. As it was our last interview, I postponed my
engagement to devote the hours of the Sabbath to
friendship : Edleston and I have separated for the
present, and my mind is a chaos of hope and sorrow.
... I rejoice to hear 3^ou are interested in vc^y protege ;
he has been ray almost constant ^ssocmiQ since October,
1805, when I entered Trinity College. His voice first
attracted my attention, his countenance fixed it, and his
manner attached me to him for ever. He departs for
a mercantile house in Town in October, and we shall
probably not meet till the expiration of my minority,
when I shall leave to his decision, either entering as
a partner through my interest, or residing with me
altogether. Of course he would, in his present frame
of mind, prefer the latter, but he may alter his opinion
previous to that period ; however, he shall have his
choice. I certainly love him more than any human
being, and neither time nor distance have had the least
effect on my (in general) changeable disposition. In
short, we shall put Lady E. Butler and Miss Ponsonby
(the " Ladies of Llangollen," as they were called) to
the blush, Pylades and Orestes out of countenance,
and want nothing but a catastrophe like Nisus and
Euryalus, to give Jonathan and David the "go by."
He certainly is perhaps more attached to me than even
I am in return. During the whole of my residence at
Cambridge we met every day, summer and winter,
without passing one tiresome moment, and separated
each time with increasing reluctance, I hope you
will one day see us together. He is the only being I
esteem, though I like many.'
This letter shows the depth of the boyish affection that
had sprung up between two lads with little experience
of life. The attachment on both sides was sincere, but
not more so than many similar boy friendships, which,
* Edleston, who some time previously had given Byron a 'Cor-
nelian ' as a parting gift on leaving Cambridge for the vacation.
224 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
alas ! fade away under the chilling influences of time
and circumstance. In this case the 'Cornelian Heart'
that had sparkled with the tears of Edleston, and which,
in the fervour of his feelings, Byron had suspended
round his neck, was, not long afterwards, transferred
to Miss Elizabeth Pigot.
A vague notion seems to prevail that the inspiration
of these ' Thyrza ' poems is in some way connected with
Edleston. This idea seems to have arisen from Byron's
allusion to a pledge of affection given in better days :
' Thou bitter pledge ! thou mournful token !'
We cannot accept this theory, being of opinion, not
lightly formed, that the ' bitter pledge ' referred to had
a far deeper and a more lasting significance than ever
could have belonged to ' the Cornelian heart that was
broken.'
In later years, it will be remembered, Byron told
Medwin that, shortly after his arrival at Cambridge,
he fell into habits of dissipation, in order to drown the
remembrance of a hopeless passion for Mary Chaworth.
That Mary Chaworth held his affections at that time
is beyond question. She also had given Byron * a
token,' which was still in his possession when the
' Thyrza ' poems were written ; whereas Edleston's gift
had passed to other hands. The following anecdote,
related by the Countess Guiccioli, may be accepted on
Byron's authority :
'One day (while Byron and Musters were bathing
in the Trent — a river that runs through the grounds
of Colwick) Mr, Musters perceived a ring among Lord
Byron's clothes, left on the bank. To see and take
possession of it was the affair of a moment. Musters
had recognized it as having belonged to Miss Chaworth.
Lord Byron claimed it, but Musters would not restore
the ring. High words were exchanged. On returning
THE 'THYRZA' POEMS 225
to the house, Musters jumped on a horse, and galloped
off to ask an explanation from Miss Chaworth, who,
being forced to confess that Lord Byron wore the
ring with her consent, felt obliged to make amends
to Musters, by promising to declare immediately her
engagement with him.'
It is therefore probable that the 'dear simple gift,'
of the first draft, was the ring which Mary Chaworth
had given to her boy lover in 1804, and that the words
we have quoted had no connection whatever with
young Edleston.
Assuming that the ' Thyrza ' poems were addressed
to a woman — and there is abundant proof of this — it is
remarkable that, neither in the whole course of his
correspondence with his friends, nor from any source
whatever, can any traces be found of any other serious
attachment which would account for the poems in
question. Between the date of the marriage, in 1805,
and the autumn of 1808, Byron and Mary Chaworth
had not met. It will be remembered that in the autumn
— only eight months before he left England with Hob-
house — Byron met Mary Chaworth at dinner in her
own home. The effect of that meeting, which he has
himself described, shows the depth of his feelings, and
precludes the idea that he could at that time have
been deeply interested in anyone else. After that
meeting Byron remained three months in the neigh-
bourhood of Annesley ; and it may be inferred that an
intimacy sprang up between them, which was broken
off somewhat abruptly by Mary's husband. There are
traces of this in * Lara.'
At the end of November, 1808, Byron writes from
Newstead to his sister :
' I am living here alone, which suits my inclination
better than society of any kind. ... I am a very
15
226 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
unlucky fellow, for I think I had naturally not a bad
heart ; but it has been so bent, twisted, and trampled
on, that it has now become as hard as a Highlander's
heelpiece.'
A fortnight later he writes to Hanson, his agent,
and talks of either marrying for money or blowing
his brains out. It was then that he wrote those verses
addressed to Mary Chaworth :
' When man, expell'd from Eden's bowers,
A moment linger'd near the gate,
Each scene recall'd the vanish'd hours,
And bade him curse his future fate.
' In flight I shall be surely wise,
Escaping from temptation's snare ;
I cannot view my Paradise
Without the wish of dwelling there.'
On January 25, 1809, Byron returned to London.
It is hard to believe that during those three months
Byron did not often meet the lady of his love. It is
more than probable that the old friendship between
them had been renewed, since there is evidence to
prove that, after Byron had taken his seat in the
House of Lords on March 13, 1809, he confided his
Parliamentary robes to Mary Chaworth's safe-keeping,
a circumstance which suggests a certain amount of
neighbourly friendship.
In May, Byron again visited Newstead, where he
entertained Matthews and some of his college friends.
That serenade indiscrete^
' 'Tis done — and shivering in the gale,'
which was addressed to Mary Chaworth from Fal-
mouth on, or about, June 22, shows the state of his
feelings towards her; but she does not seem to have
given him any encouragement, and there was no cor-
I
DEATH OF MRS. BYRON 227
respondence between them during Byron's absence
from England. Between July 2, 1809, and July 15,
181 1, Byron's thoughts were fully occupied in other
directions. His distractions, which may be traced in
his writings, were, however, not sufficient to crush
out the remembrance of that fatal infatuation. When,
in 181 1, he returned to England, it was without pleasure,
and without the faintest hope of any renewal of an
intimacy which Mary Chaworth had broken off for
both their sakes. He was in no hurry to visit New-
stead, where his mother anxiously awaited him, and
dawdled about town, under various pretexts, until the
first week in August, when he heard of his mother's
serious illness. Before Byron reached Newstead his
mother had died. He seems to have heard of her
illness one day, and of her death on the day following.
Although there had long been a certain estrangement
between them, all was now forgotten, and Byron felt
his mother's death acutely.
It was at this time that he wrote to his friend Scrope
Davies :
' Some curse hangs over me and mine. My mother
lies a corpse in this house ; one of my best friends
(Charles Skinner Matthews) is drowned in a ditch.
What can I say, or think, or do ? I received a letter
from him the day before yesterday. . . . Come to me,
Scrope; I am almost desolate — left almost alone in the
world.'
In that gloomy frame of mind, in the solitude of a
ruin — for Newstead at that time was but little better
than a ruin — Byron, on August 12, drew up some
directions for his will, in which he desired to be buried
in the garden at Newstead, by the side of his favourite
dog Boatswain.
On the same day he wrote to Dallas, who was
15—2
228 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
superintending the printing of the first and second
cantos of ' Childe Harold ':
* Peace be with the dead ! Regret cannot wake
them. With a sigh to the departed, let us resume the
dull business of life, in the certainty that we also shall
have our repose. Besides her who gave me being, I
have lost more than one who made that being tolerable.
Matthews, a man of the first talents, and also not the
worst of my narrow circle, has perished miserably in
the muddy waves of the Cam, always fatal to genius ;
my poor schoolfellow, Wingfield, at Coimbra — within
a month; and whilst I had heard from all three^ but not
seen one. . . . But let this pass ; we shall all one day
pass along with the rest. The world is too full of such
things, and our very sorrow is selfish. ... I am
already too familiar with the dead. It is strange that
I look on the skulls which stand beside me (I have
always had four in my study) without emotion, but I
cannot strip the features of those I have known of
their fleshy covering, even in idea, without a hideous
sensation ; but the worms are less ceremonious.
Surely, the Romans did well when they burned the
dead.'
The writer of this letter was in his twenty-fourth
year!
Ten days later Byron writes to Hodgson :
* Indeed the blows followed each other so rapidly
that I am yet stupid from the shock ; and though I do
eat, and drink, and talk, and even laugh at times, yet I
can hardly persuade myself that I am awake, did not
every morning convince me mournfully to the contrary.
I shall now waive the subject, the dead are at rest, and
none but the dead can be so. . . . I am solitary, and
I never felt solitude irksome before.'
At about the same date, in a letter to Dallas, Byron
writes :
' At three-and-twenty I am left alone, and what more
can we be at seventy ? It is true I am young enough
to begin again, but with whom can I retrace the laugh-
HAUNTING MEMORIES 229
ing part of my life? It is odd how few of my friends
have died a quiet death — I mean, in their beds !
' I cannot settle to anything, and my days pass, with
the exception of bodily exercise to some extent, with
uniform mdolence and idle insipidity.'
The verses, ' Oh ! banish care,' etc., were written at
this time.
In the following lines we see that his grief at the
losses he had sustained was deepened by the haunting
memory of Mary Chaworth :
' I've seen my bride another's bride —
Have seen her seated by his side —
Have seen the infant which she bore
Wear the sweet smile the mother wore,
When she and I in youth have smiled
As fond and faultless as her child ;
Have seen her e3'es, in cold disdain,
Ask if I felt no secret pain.
And I have acted well my part,
And made my cheek belie my heart.
Returned the freezing glance she gave,
Yet felt the while that woman's slave ;
Have kissed, as if without design.
The babe which ought to have been mine.
And showed, alas ! in each caress
Time had not made me love the less.'
Moore, who knew more of the inner workings of
Byron's mind in later years than anyone else, has told
us that the poems addressed to * Thyrza ' were merely
* the abstract spirit of many griefs,' and that the pseu-
donym was given to an ' object of affection ' to whom
he poured out the sorrows of his heart.
'All these recollections,' says Moore, 'of the young
and dead now came to mingle themselves in his mind
with the image of her who, though livings was for him
as much lost as they, and diffused that general feeling
of sadness and fondness through his soul, which found
a vent in these poems. No friendship, however warm,
230 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
could have inspired sorrow so passionate ; as no love,
however pure, could have kept passion so chastened.
' It was the blending of the two affections in his
memory and imagination that thus gave birth to an
ideal object combining the best features of both, and
drew from him these saddest and tenderest of love-
poems, in which we find all the depth and intensity of
real feeling, touched over with such a light as no reality
ever wore.'
Moore here expresses himself guardedly. He was
one of the very few who knew the whole story of
Mary Chaworth's associations with Byron. He could
not, of course, betray his full knowledge ; but he has
made it sufficiently clear that Byron, in writing the
' Thyrza ' group of poems, was merely strewing the
flowers of poetry on the grave of his love for Mary
Chaworth.
The first of these poems was written on the day on
which he heard of the death of Edleston. In a letter
to Dallas he says :
* I have been again shocked by a death, and have lost
one very dear to me in happier times. I have become
callous, nor have I a tear left for an event which, five
years ago, would have bowed down my head to the
earth. It seems as though I were to experience in my
youth the greatest misery of age. My friends fall
around me, and I shall be left a lonely tree before I
am withered. Other men can always take refuge in
their families ; I have no resource but my own reflec-
tions, and they present no prospect here or hereafter,
except the selfish satisfaction of surviving my betters.
I am indeed very wretched, and you will excuse
my saying so, as you know I am not apt to cant of
sensibility.'*
Shortly after this letter was written Byron visited
Cambridge, where, among the many memories which
* Edleston had died five months before Byron heard the sad
news.
THE CORNELIAN HEART 231
that place awakened, a remembrance of the young
chorister and their ardent friendship was most vivid.
Byron recollected the Cornelian that Edleston gave
him as a token of friendship, and, now that the giver
had passed away for ever, he regretted that he had
parted with it. The following letter to Mrs. Pigot
explains itself:
' Cambridge,
'Odober 28, 1811.
' Dear Madam,
' I am about to write to you on a silly subject,
and yet I cannot well do otherwise. You may remem-
ber a coriielian which some years ago I consigned to
Miss Pigot — indeed I gave to her — and now I am
going to make the most selfish and rude of requests.
The person who gave it to me, when I was very
young, is dead, and though a long time has elapsed
since we met, as it was the only memorial I possessed
of that person (in whom I was very much interested),
it has acquired a value by this event I could have
wished it never to have borne in my eyes. If, there-
fore. Miss Pigot should have preserved it, I must,
under these circumstances, beg her to excuse my re-
questing it to be transmitted to me at No. 8, St. James'
Street, London, and I will replace it by something she
may remember me by equally well. As she was
always so kind as to feel interested in the fate of
him that formed the subject of our conversation, you
may tell her that the giver of that cornelian died in
May last of a consumption at the age of twenty-one,
making the sixth, within four months, of friends and
relatives that I have lost between May and the end of
August.
' Believe me, dear madam,
' Yours very sincerely,
' Byron.*
The cornelian when found, was returned to Byron,
but apparently in a broken condition.
' Ill-fated Heart ! and can it be,
That thou shouldst thus be rent in twain ?'
232 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
It was through the depressing influence of solitude
that the idea entered Byron's mind to depict his (pos-
sibly eternal) separation from Mary Chaworth in terms
synonymous with death. With a deep feeling of deso-
lation he recalled every incident of his boyish love.
We have seen how the image of his lost Mary, now
the wife of his rival, deepened the gloom caused by
the sudden death of his mother, and of some of his
college friends. It was to Mary, whom he dared not
name, that he cried in his agony :
' By many a shore and many a sea
Divided, yet beloved in vain ;
The Past, the Future fled to thee,
To bid us meet — no, ne'er again I'
Her absence from Annesley, where he had hoped to
find her on his return home, was a great disappoint-
ment to him.
' Thou too art gone, thou loved and lovely one !
Whom Youth and Youth's affections bound to me ;
Who did for me what none beside have done.
Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee.
What is my Being ! thou hast ceased to be !
Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer home.
Who mourns o'er hours which we no more shall see —
Would they had never been, or were to come !
Would he had ne'er returned to find fresh cause to roam !
' Oh ! ever loving, lovely, and beloved !
How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past,
And clings to thoughts now better far removed !
But Time shall tear thy shadow from me last.
All thou couldst have of mine, stern Death ! thou hast ;
The Parent, Friend, and now the more than Friend :
Ne'er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,
And grief with grief continuing still to blend.
Hath snatch'd the little joy that Life hath yet to lend.
THE WANDERER RETURNS 233
What is the worst of woes that wait on Age ?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ?
To view each loved one blotted from Life's page,
And be alone on earth, as I am now.
Before the Chastener humbly let me bow,
O'er Hearts divided and o'er Hopes destroyed :
Roll on, vain days ! full reckless may ye flow.
Since Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoyed,
And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloyed.'
These stanzas were attached to the second canto of
'Childe Harold,' after that poem was in the press.
Mr. Ernest Hartley Coleridge, who so ably edited the
latest edition of the poetry of Byron, states that they
were sent to Dallas on the same day that Byron
composed the poem * To Thyrza.' This is significant,
as also his attempt to mystify Dallas by telling him
that he had again (October 11, 181 1) been shocked by
a death. This was true enough, for he had on that
day heard of the death of Edleston ; but it was not true
that the stanzas we have quoted had any connection
with that event. Mr. Coleridge in a note says :
* In connection with this subject, it may be noted
that the lines 6 and 7 of Stanza XCV.,
' " Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer home,
Who mourns o'er hours which we no more shall see,"
do not bear out Byron's contention to Dallas (Letters,
October 14 and 31, 18 11) that in these three m memoriam
stanzas (IX., XCV., XCVI.) he is bewailing an event
which took place after he returned to Newstead.* The
*' more than friend " had " ceased to be " before the
" wanderer " returned. It is evident that Byron did
not take Dallas into his confidence.'
Assuredly he did not. The ' more than friend ' was
not dead ; she had merely absented herself, and did not
* ' I think it proper to state to you that this stanza alludes to an
event: which has taken place since my arrival here, and not to the
death of any male friend.' — Lord Byron to Mr. Dallas.
234 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
stay to welcome the ' wanderer ' on his return from
his travels. She was, however, dead to him in a sense
far deeper than mere absence at such a time.
' The absent are the dead — for they are cold,
And ne'er can be what once we did behold.'*
Mary Chaworth's presence would have consoled him
at a time when he felt alone in the world. He feared
that she was lost to him for ever. He knew her too
well to suppose that she could ever be more to him
than a friend ; and yet it was just that female sympathy
and friendship for which he so ardently yearned. In
his unreasonableness, he was both hurt and dis-
appointed that this companion of his earlier days
should have kept away from her home at that par-
ticular time, and of course misconstrued the cause.
With the feeling that this parting must be eternal, he
wished that they could have met once more.
' Could this have been — a word, a look,
That softly said, " We part in peace,"
Had taught my bosom how to brook.
With fainter sighs, thy soul's release." '
In the bitterness of his desolation he recalled the
days when they were at Newstead together — probably
stolen interviews, which find no place in history —
when
' many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers.
Ere called but for a time away,
Affection's mingling tears were ours ?
* That this Thyrza was no passing fancy is proved by Lord Love-
lace's statement in ' Astarte' (p. 138) : ' He had occasionally spoken
of Thyrza to Lady Byron, at Seaham and afterwards in London,
always with slrong but contained emotion. He once showed his wife
a beautiful tress of Thyrza's hair, but never mentioned her real
name.
MRS. GEORGE LAMB 235
Ours, too, the glance none saw beside ;
The smile none else might understand ;
The whispered thought ; the walks aside ;
The pressure of the thrilling hand ;
The kiss so guiltless and refined.
That Love each warmer wish forbore ;
Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind,
Ev'n Passion blushed to plead for more.
The tone that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine ;
The song, celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine ;
The pledge we wore — / wear it still,
But where is thine ? Ah ! where art thou ?
Oft have I borne the weight of ill.
But never bent beneath till now !'
Six days after these lines were written Byron left
Newstead. Writing to Hodgson from his lodgings in
St. James's Street, he enclosed some stanzas which he
had written a day or two before, ' on hearing a song of
former days.' The lady, whose singing now so deeply
impressed Byron, was the Hon. Mrs. George Lamb,
whom he had met at Melbourne House.
In this, the second of the ' Thyrza' poems, the allusions
to Mary Chaworth are even more marked. Byron
says the songs of Mrs. George Lamb ' speak to him of
brighter days,' and that he hopes to hear those strains
no more :
' For now, alas !
I must not think, I may not gaze.
On what I am — on what I was.
The voice that made those sounds more sweet
Is hush'd, and all their charms are fled.
*****
' On my ear
The well-remembered echoes thrill ;
I hear a voice I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still.
*****
236 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
' Sweet Thyrza ! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but nowia lovely dream ;
A Star that trembled o'er the deep,
Then turned from earth its tender beam.
But he who through Life's dreary way
Must pass, when Heaven is veiled in wrath,
Will long lament the vanished ray
That scattered gladness o'er his path.'
In Byron's imagination Mary Chaworth was always
hovering over him like a star. She was the ' starlight
of his boyhood,' the * star of his destiny,' and three
years later the poet, in his unpublished fragment
* Harmodia,' speaks of Mary as his
' melancholy star
Whose tearful beam shoots trembling from afar.'
The third and last of the ' Thyrza * poems must have
been written at about the same time as the other two.
It appeared with ' Childe Harold' in 1812. Byron,
weary of the gloom of solitude, and tortured by 'pangs
that rent his heart in twain,' now determined to break
away and seek inspiration for that mental energy which
formed part of his nature. Man, he says, was not
made to live alone.
' I'll be that light unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none.
It was not thus in days more dear,
It never would have been, but thou
Hast fled, and left me lonely here.'
Byron's thoughts went back to the days when he
was sailing over the bright waters of the blue ^Egean,
in the Salsette frigate, commanded by 'good old
Bathurst '* — those halcyon days when he was weaving
his visions into stanzas for * Childe Harold.'
* Captain (afterwards Commodore) Walter Bathurst was mortally
wounded at the Battle of Navai-ino, on October 20, 1827. — ' Battles of
the British Navy,' Joseph Allen, vol. ii., p. 518.
WHEN LOVE AND LIFE WERE NEW 237
' On many a lone and lovely night
It soothed to gaze upon the sky ;
For then I deemed the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye :
And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,
When sailing o'er the -^Egean wave,
" Now Thyrza gazes on that moon" —
Alas ! it gleamed upon her grave !
' When stretched on Fever's sleepless bed,
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins,
" 'Tis comfort still," I faintly said,
"That Thyrza cannot know my pains."
Like freedom to the timeworn slave —
A boon 'tis idle then to give —
Relenting Nature vainly gave
My life, when Thyrza ceased to live !
' My Thyrza's pledge in better days,
When Love and Life alike were new !
How different now thou meet'st my gaze !
How tinged by time with Sorrow's hue !
The heart that gave itself with thee
Is silent — ah, were mine as still !
Though cold as e'en the dead can be,
It feels, it sickens with the chill.'
Byron here suggests that the pledge in question was
given with the giver's heart. Lovers are apt to inter-
pret such gifts as ' love-tokens,' without suspicion that
they may possibly have been due to a feeling far less
flattering to their hopes.
' Thou bitter pledge ! thou mournful token !
Though painful, welcome to my breast !
Still, still, preserve that love unbroken,
Or break the heart to which thou'rt pressed.
Time tempers Love, but not removes,
More hallowed when its Hope is fied.'
These three pieces comprise the so-called ' Thyrza '
poems, and, in the absence of proof to the contrary,
we may reasonably suppose that their subject was
Mary Chaworth. This is the more likely because the
238 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
original manuscripts were the property of Byron's
sister, to whom they were probably given by Mary
Chaworth, when, in later years, she destroyed or parted
with all the letters and documents which she had re-
ceived from Byron since the days of their childhood.
Byron did not give up the hope of winning Mary
Chaworth's love until her marriage in 1805. Two
months later he entered Trinity College, Cambridge,
and from that time, until his departure with Hobhouse
on his first foreign tour, those who were in constant
intercourse with him never mentioned any other
object of adoration who might fit in with the Thyrza
of the poems. If such a person had really existed,
Byron would certainly, either in conversation or in
writing, have disclosed her identity. Moore makes
it clear that the one passion of Byron's life was Mary
Chaworth. He tells us that there were many fleeting
love-episodes, but only one passion strong enough to
have inspired the poems in question. If Byron's heart,
during the two years that he passed abroad, had been
overflowing with love for some incognita, it was not in
his nature to have kept silence. From his well-known
effusiveness, reticence under such circumstances is
inconceivable.
Finally, as there were no poems, no letters, and no
allusion to any such person in the firs^ draft of 'Childe
Harold,' we may confidently assume that the poet, in
the loneliness of his heart, appealed to the only woman
whom he ever really loved, and that the legendary
Thyrza was a myth.
It will be remembered that the ninth stanza in the
second canto of 'Childe Harold' was interpolated long
after the manuscript had been given to Dallas. It was
forwarded for that purpose, three days after the date
' A PERIOD OF DESOLATION 239
of the poem 'To Thyrza,' and essentially belongs to
that period of desolation which inspired those poems :
' There, Thou ! whose Love and Life, together fied,
Have left me here to love and live in vain —
Twined with my heart, and can I deem thee dead,
When busy Memory flashes on my brain ?
Well — / will dream that we may meet again,
And woo the vision to my vacant breast :
If aught of young Remembrance then remain,
Be as it may Futurity's behest.
Or seeing tliee no more, to sink to sullen rest.'*
It is difficult to believe that this stanza was inspired
by a memory of the dead. Are we not told that ' Love
and Life together fled' — in other words, when Mary
withdrew her love, she was dead to him ?
He tells her that in abandoning him she has left
him to love and live in vain. And yet he will not give
up the hope of meeting her again some day ; this is
now his sole consolation. Memory of the past (pos-
sibly those meetings which took place by stealth,
shortly before his departure from England in 1809)
feeds the hope that now sustains him. But he will
leave everything to chance, and if fate decides that
they shall be parted for ever, then will he sink to
sullen apathy.
We may remind the reader that at this period (181 1)
Byron had no belief in any existence after death.
' I will have nothing to do with your immortality,'
he writes to Hodgson in September ; * we are miser-
able enough in this life, without the absurdity of
speculating upon another. If men are to live, why die
at all ? and if they die, why disturb the sweet and
sound sleep that " knows no waking " ?
* " Post mortem nihil est, ipsaque Mors nihil . . .
(quaeris quo jaceas post obitum loco ? Quo non Nata
jacent." '
* The last line was in the first draft.
240 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
Even when, in later years, Byron somewhat modified
the views of his youth, he expressed an opinion that
' A material resurrection seems strange, and even
absurd, except for purposes of punishment, and all
punishment which is to revenge Ta.ther than correcimxist
be morally wrong.''
It is therefore tolerably certain that, on the day
when he expressed a hope that he might meet his
lady-love again, the meeting was to have been in this
world, and not in that ' land of souls beyond the sable
shore.' It must also be remembered that the eighth
stanza in the second canto of ' Childe Harold ' was
substituted for one in which Byron deliberately stated
that he did not look for Life, where life may never be.
The revise was written to please Dallas, and does not
pretend to be a confession of belief in immortality, but
merely an admission that, on a subject where ' nothing
can be known,' no final decision is possible.
In the summer of 1813 Byron underwent grave
vicissitudes, mental, moral, and financial. His letters
and journals teem with allusions to some catastrophe.
It seemed as though he were threatened with impend-
ing ruin. In his depressed state of mind he found
relief only, as he tells us, in the composition of poetry.
It was at this time that he wrote in swift succession
' The Giaour,' * The Bride of Abydos,' and ' The Cor-
sair.' It is clear that Byron's dejection was the result
of a hopeless attachment. Mr. Hartley Coleridge
assumes that Byron's innamorata was Lady Frances
Wedderburn Webster. But that bright star did not
long shine in Byron's orbit — certainly not after Octo-
ber, 1 81 3 — and it is doubtful whether they were ever
on terms of close intimacy. Her husband had long
been Byron's friend. Byron had lent him money, and
LADY FRANCES WEBSTER 241
had given him advice, which he seems to have sorely
needed. It is difficult to understand why Lady Frances
Webster should have been especially regarded as
Byron's Calypso. There is nothing to show that she
ever seriousl}' occupied his thoughts. Writing to
Moore on September 27, 18 13, Byron says :
* I stayed a week with the Websters, and behaved
very well, though the lady of the house is young,
religious, and pretty, and the master is my particular
friend. I felt no wish for anything but a poodle dog,
which they kindly gave me.'
So little does Byron seem to have been attracted by
Lady Frances, that he only once more visited the
Websters, and then only for a few days, on his way to
Newstead, between October 3 and 10, 181 3.
On June 3 of that year Byron wrote to Mr. John
Hanson, his solicitor, a letter which shows the state
of his mind at that time He tells Hanson that he is
about to visit Salt Hill, near Maidenhead, and that he
will be absent for one week. He is determined to go
abroad. The prospective lawsuit with Mr, Claughton
(about the sale of Newstead) is to be dropped, if it
cannot be carried on in Byron's absence. At all
hazards, at all losses, he is determined that nothing
shall prevent him from leaving the country.
* If utter ruin were or is before me on the one hand,
and wealth at home on the other, I have made my
choice, and go I will'
The pictures, and every movable that could be con-
verted into cash, were, by Byron's orders, to be sold.
'All I want is a few thousand pounds, and then,
Adieu. You shan't be troubled with me these ten
years, if ever.' Clearly, there must have been some-
thing more than a passing fancy which could have
16
242 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
induced Byron to sacrifice his chances of selling
Newstead, for the sake of a few thousand pounds of
ready-money. It had been his intention to accompany
Lord and Lady Oxford on their travels, but this
project was abandoned. After three weeks — spent in
running backwards and forwards between Salt Hill
and London — Byron confided his troubles to Augusta.
She was always his rock of refuge in all his deeper
troubles. Augusta Leigh thought that absence might
mend matters, and tried hard to keep her brother up
to his resolve of going abroad ; she even volunteered
to accompany him. But Lady Melbourne — who must
have had a prurient mind — persuaded Byron that the
gossips about town would not consider it ' proper* for
him and his sister to travel alone ! As Byron was
at that time under the influence of an irresistible
infatuation. Lady Melbourne's warning turned the
scale, and the project fell through. Meanwhile the
plot thickened. Something — he told Moore — had ruined
all his prospects of matrimony. His financial circum-
stances, he said, were mending; 'and were not my
other prospects blackening, I would take a wife.'
In July he still wishes to get out of England. ' They
had better let me go,' he says ; * one can die anywhere.'
On August 22, after another visit to Salt Hill, Byron
writes to Moore :
* I have said nothing of the brilliant sex ; but the
fact is, I am at this moment in a far more serious, and
entirely new, scrape, than any of the last twelve.months,
and that is saying a good deal. It is unlucky we can
neither live with nor without these women.'
A week later he wrote again to Moore :
' I would incorporate with any woman of decent
demeanour to-morrow — that is, I would a month ago,
but at present . . .'
A HOPELESS ATTACHMENT 243
Moore suggested that Byron's case was similar to
that of the youth apostrophized by Horace in his
twenty-seventh ode, and invited his confidence :
' Come, whisper it — the tender truth —
To safe and friendly ears !
What ! Her ? O miserable youth !
Oh 1 doomed to grief and tears 1
In what a whirlpool are you tost,
Your rudder broke, your pilot lost I'
Recent research has convinced the present writer
that the incident which affected Byron so profoundly
at this time — about eighteen months before his marriage
— indirectly brought about the separation between
Lord and Lady Byron in 1816. A careful student of
Byron's character could not fail to notice, among all
the contradictions and inconsistencies of his life, one
point upon which he was resolute — namely, a con-
sistent reticence on the subject of the intimacy which
sprang up between himself and Mary Chaworth in the
summer of 181 3. The strongest impulse of his life —
even to the last — was a steadfast, unwavering, hope-
less attachment to that lady. Throughout his turbu-
lent youth, in his early as in his later days, the same
theme floats through the chords of his melodious verse,
a deathless love and a deep remorse. Even at the last,
when the shadow of Death was creeping slowly over
the flats at Missolonghi, the same wild, despairing note
found involuntary expression, and the last words that
Byron ever wrote tell the sad story with a distinctness
which might well open the eyes even of the blind.
When he first met his fate, he was a schoolboy of
sixteen — precocious, pugnacious, probably a prig, and
by no means handsome. He must have appeared to
Mary much as we see him in his portrait by Sanders.
Mary was two years older, and already in love with
16 — 2
244 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
a fox-hunting squire of good family. ' Love dwells not
in our will,' and a nature like Byron's, once under its
spell, was sure to feel its force acutely. There was
romance, too, in the situation ; and the poetic tempera-
ment — always precocious — responded to an impulse
on the gossamer chance of achieving the impossible.
Mary was probably half amused and half flattered by
the adoration of a boy of whose destiny she divined
nothing.
There is no reason to suppose that there was any
meeting between Byron and Mary Chaworth after the
spring of 1809, until the summer of 181 3. Their sepa-
ration seemed destined to be final. Although Byron,
in after-years, wished it to be believed that they had
not met since 1808, it is certain that a meeting took
place in the summer of 18 13. Although Byron took,
as we shall see presently, great pains to conceal that
fact from the public, he did not attempt to deceive
either Moore, Hobhouse, or Hodgson. In his letter
to Monsieur Coulmann, written in July, 1823, we have
♦^he version which Byron wished the public to believe.
* I had not seen her [Mary Chaworth] for many years.
When an occasion offered, I was upon the point, with
her consent, of paying her a visit, when my sister, who
has always had more influence over me than anyone
else, persuaded me not to do it. "For," said she, "if
you go, you will fall in love again, and then there will
be a scene ; one step will lead to another, et cela fera
un eclat" etc. I was guided by these reasons, and
shortly after I married. . . . Mrs. Chaworth some
time after, being separated from her husband, became
insane ; but she has since recovered her reason, and
is, I believe, reconciled to her husband.'
At about the same time Byron told Medwin that,
after Mary's separation from her husband, she pro-
posed an interview with him — a suggestion which
MARY CHAWORTH 245
Byron, by the advice of Mrs. Leigh, declined. He
also said to Medwin :
' She [Mary Chaworth] was the beau-ideal of all that
my youthful fancy could paint of beautiful ; and 1 have
taken all my fables about the celestial nature of women
from the perfection my imagination created in her — I
say created, for 1 found her, like the rest of her sex, any-
thing but angelic.^
It is difficult to see how Byron could have arrived
at so unflattering an estimate of a woman whom he
had only once seen since her marriage — at a dinner-
party, when, as he has told us, he was overcome by
shyness and a feeling of awkwardness ! But let that
pass. Byron wished the world to believe (i) that
Mary Chaworth, after the separation from her husband
in 181 3, proposed a meeting with Byron; (2) that he
declined to meet her ; (3) that, after his unfortunate
marriage, Mary became insane ; and (4) that he found
her, ' like the rest of her sex, anything but angelic'
It is quite possible, of course, that Byron may have
at first refused to meet the only woman on earth whom
he sincerely loved, and more than likely that Mrs.
Leigh did her utmost to dissuade him from so rash
a proceeding. But it is on record that Byron in-
cautiously admitted to Medwin that he did meet Mary
Chaworth after his return from Greece.^ It will be
remembered that he returned from Greece in 181 1.
Their intimacy had long before been broken off by
Mr. John Musters ; and, as we have seen, Mary, faithful
to a promise which she had made to her husband,
kept away from Annesley during the period (181 1)
when the ' Thyrza ' poems were written. It is doubtful
whether they would ever again have met if her husband
had shown any consideration for her feelings. But he
* Medwin (edition of 1824), p. 63.
246 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
showed her none. When, nearly forty years ago, the
present writer visited Annesley, there were several
people living who remembered both Mary Chaworth
and her husband. These people stated that their
married life, so full of grief and bitterness, was a
constant source of comment both at Annesley and
Newstead. The trouble was attributed to the harsh
and capricious conduct, and the well-known infidelities,
of one to whose kindness and affection Mary had a
sacred claim. She seems to have been left for long
periods at Annesley with only one companion. Miss
Anne Radford, who had been brought up with her
from childhood. This state of things eventually broke
down, and when, in the early part of 1813, Mary could
stand the strain no longer, a separation took place by
mutual consent.
In the summer of that year Byron and this unhappy
woman were thrown together by the merest accident,
and, unfortunately for both, renewed their dangerous
friendship.
Byron's friend and biographer, Thomas Moore, took
great pains to suppress every allusion to Mary
Chaworth in Byron's memoranda and letters. He
faithfully kept the secret. There is nothing in Byron's
letters or journals, as revised by Moore, to show that
they ever met after 1808, and yet they undoubtedly did
meet in 18 13, after Mary's estrangement from her hus-
band. That they were in constant correspondence in
November of that year may be gathered from Byron's
journal, where Mary's name is veiled by asterisks.
On November 24 he writes :
' I am tremendously in arrear with my letters, except
to ****, and to her my thoughts overpower me : my
words never compass them.'
THE 'MORNING STAR OF ANNESLEY' 247
'I have been pondering,' he writes on the 26th, 'on
the miseries of separation, that — oh ! how seldom we
see those we love ! Yet we live ages in moments
when meV
Then follows, on the 27th, a clue :
* I believe, with Clym o' the Clow, or Robin Hood,
' " By our Mary (dear name !) thou art both Mother and May,
I think it never was a man's lot to die before his day." '
It is attested, by all those who were acquainted with
Mary Chaworth, that she always bore an exemplary
character. It was well known that her marriage was
an unhappy one, and that she had been for some time
deserted by her husband. In June, 1813, when she
fell under the fatal spell of Byron, then the most
fascinating man in society,* she was living in deep
dejection, parted from her lawful protector, with
whom she had a serious disagreement. He had
neglected her, and she well knew that she had a rival
in his affections at that time.
It was in these distressing circumstances that
Byron, with the world at his feet, came to worship
her in great humility. As he looked back upon the
past, he realized that this neglected woman had always
been the light of his life, the lodestar of his destiny.
And now that he beheld his ' Morning Star of
Annesley' shedding ineffectual rays upon the dead
embers of a lost love, the old feeling returned to him
with resistless force.
' We met — we gazed — I saw, and sighed ;
She did not speak, and yet replied ;
There are ten thousand tones and signs
We hear and see, but none defines —
* ' A power of fascination rarely, if ever, possessed by any man of
his age ' (' Recollections of a Long Life/ by Lord Broughton, vol. ii.,
p. 196).
248 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
Involuntary sparks of thought,
Which strike from out the heart o'erwrought,
And form a strange intelligence,
Alike mysterious and intense,
Which link the burning chain that binds.
Without their will, young hearts and minds.
I saw, and sighed — in silence wept,
And still reluctant distance kept,
Until I was made known to her.
And we might then and there confer
Without suspicion — then, even then,
I longed, and was resolved to speak ;
But on my lips they died again,
The accents tremulous and weak,
Until one hour . . .
*****
' I would have given
My life but to have called her mine
In the full view of Earth and Heaven;
For I did oft and long repine
That we could only meet by stealth.'
In the remorseful words of Manfred,
' Her faults were mine — her virtues were her own —
I loved her, and destroyed her ! . . .
Not with my hand, but heart — which broke her heart —
It gazed on mine and withered.'
Without attempting to excuse Byron's conduct —
indeed, that were useless — it must be remembered that
he was only twenty-five years of age, and Mary was
very unhappy. After all hope of meeting her again
had been abandoned, the force of destiny, so to speak,
had unexpectedly restored his lost Thyrza — the
Theresa of * Mazeppa.'
' I loved her then, I love her still ;
And such as I am, love indeed
In fierce extremes — in good and ill —
But still we love. . . .
Haunted to our very age
With the vain shadow of the past.'
REMORSE 249
Byron's punishment was in this world. The remorse
which followed endured throughout the remaining
portion of his life. It wrecked what might have
proved a happy marriage, and drove him, from stone
to stone, along life's causeway, to that * Sea Sodom '
where, for many months, he tried to destroy the
memory of his crime by reckless profligacy.
Mary Chaworth no sooner realized her awful danger
— the madness of an impulse which not even love
could excuse — than she recoiled from the precipice
which yawned before her. She had been momentarily
blinded by the irresistible fascination of one who,
after all, really and truly loved her. But she was
a good woman in spite of this one episode, and to the
last hour of her existence she never swerved from that
narrow path which led to an honoured grave.
Although it was too late for happiness, too late to
evade the consequences of her weakness, there was
still time for repentance. The secret was kept inviolate
by the very few to whom it was confided, and the
present writer deeply regrets that circumstances have
compelled him to break the seal.
If ' Astarte ' had not been written, there would have
been no need to lift the veil. Lord Lovelace has
besmirched the good name of Mrs. Leigh, and it is
but an act of simple justice to defend her.
When Mary Chaworth escaped from Byron's fatal
influence, he reproached her for leaving him, and tried
to shake her resolution with heart-rending appeals.
Happily for both, they fell upon deaf ears.
' Astarte ! my beloved ! speak to me ;
Say that thou loath'st me not — that I do bear
This punishment for both.'
The depth and sincerity of Byron's love for Mary
250 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
Chaworth cannot be questioned. Moore, who knew
him well, says :
' The all-absorbing and unsuccessful (unsatisfied)
love for Mary Chaworth was the agony, without being
the death, of an unsated desire which lived on through
life, filled his poetry with the very soul of tender-
ness, lent the colouring of its light to even those un-
worthy ties which vanity or passion led him afterwards
to form, and was the last aspiration of his fervid
spirit, in those stanzas written but a few months before
his death.'
It was, in fact, a love of such unreasonableness and
persistence as might be termed, without exaggeration,
a madness of the heart.
Although Mary escaped for ever from that baneful
infatuation, which in an unguarded moment had
destroyed her peace of mind, her separation from
Byron was not complete until he married. Not only
did they correspond frequently, but they also met
occasionally. In the following January (1814) Byron
introduced Mary to Augusta Leigh. From that event-
ful meeting, when probable contingencies were provided
for, until Mary's death in 1832, these two women, who
had suffered so much through Byron, continued in the
closest intimacy; and in November, 1819, Augusta
stood sponsor for Mary's youngest daughter.
In a poem which must have been written in 1813,
an apostrophe ' To Time,' Byron refers to Mary's
resolutions.
' In Joy I've sighed to think thy flight
Would soon subside from swift to slow ;
Thy cloud could overcast the light,
But could not add a night to Woe ;
For then, however drear and dark,
My soul was suited to thy sky ;
One star alone shot forth a spark
To prove thee — not Eternity.
Thai beam liath sunk.'
MARY CHAWORTH AND MRS. LEIGH 251
It is of course true that matters were not, and could
never again be, on the same footing as in July of that
year; but Mary Chaworth was constancy itself, in a
higher and a nobler sense than Byron attached to it,
when he reproached her for broken vows.
' Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame :
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.'
During the remainder of Byron's life, Mary took a
deep interest in everything that affected him. In 18 14,
believing that marriage would be his salvation, she
used her influence in that direction. We know that
she did not approve of the choice which Byron so
recklessly made, and she certainly had ample cause to
deplore its results. Through her close intimacy with
Augusta Leigh — an intimacy which has not hitherto
been suspected — she became acquainted with every
phase in Byron's subsequent career. She could read
' between the lines,' and solve the mysteries to be
found in such poems as ' Lara,' ' Mazeppa,' ' Manfred,'
and ' Don Juan.'
We believe that Byron's love for Mary was the
main cause of the indifference he felt towards his
wife. In order to shield Mary from the possible
consequences of a public investigation into conduct
prior to his marriage, Byron, in 18 16, consented to a
separation from his wife.
After Byron had left England Mary broke down
under the strain she had borne so bravely, and her
mind gave way. When at last, in April, 1817, a recon-
ciliation took place between Mary and her husband,
it was apparent to everyone that she had, during those
four anxious years, become a changed woman. She
252 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
never entirely regained either health or spirits. Her
mind * had acquired a tinge of religious melancholy,
which never afterwards left it' Sorrow and dis-
appointment had subdued a naturally buoyant nature,
and 'melancholy marked her for its own.' Shortly
before her death, in 1832, she destroyed every letter
she had received from Byron since those distant
fateful years when, as boy and girl, they had
wandered on the Hills of Annesley. For eight sad
3'-ears Mary Chaworth survived the lover of her youth.
Shortly before her death, in a letter to one of her
daughters, she drew her own character, which might
fitly form her epitaph : * Soon led, easily pleased, very
hasty, and very relenting, with a heart moulded in a
warm and affectionate fashion.'
Such was the woman who, though parted by fate,
maintained through sunshine and storm an ascendancy
over the heart of Byron which neither time nor absence
could impair, and which endured to the end of his
earthly existence. We may well believe that those
inarticulate words which the dying poet murmured
to the bewildered Fletcher — those broken sentences
which ended with, ' Tell her everything ; you are
friends with her' — may have referred, not to Lady
Byron, as policy suggested, but to Mary Chaworth,
with whom Fletcher had been acquainted since his
youth.
We have incontestable proof that, only two months
before he died, Byron's thoughts were occupied with
one whom he had named ' the starlight of his boy-
hood.' How deeply Byron thought about Mary
Chaworth at the last is proved by the poem which
was found among his papers at Missolonghi. In six
stanzas the poet revealed the story that he would fain
A POETICAL SCHERZO 253
have hidden. A note in his handwriting states that
they were addressed * to no one in particular,' and
that they were merely ' a poetical scherzo.' There is,
however, no room for doubt that the poem bears a
deep significance.
I.
' I watched thee when the foe was at our side,
Ready to strike at him — or thee and me
Were safety hopeless — rather than divide
Aught with one loved, save love and liberty.'
We have here a glimpse of that turbulent scene
when Mary's husband, in a fit of jealousy, put an end
to their dangerous intimacy.
II.
' I watched thee on the breakers, when the rock
Received our prow, and all was storm and fear,
And bade thee cling to me through every shock ;
This arm would be thy bark, or breast thy bier.'
This brings us to that period of suspense and fear,
in 1814, which preceded the birth of Medora. In a
letter which Byron at that time wrote to Miss Milbanke,
we find these words :
* I am at present a little feverish — I mean mentally —
and, as usual, on the brink of something or other, which
will probably crush me at last, and cut our correspondence
short, with everything else.'
Twelve days later (March 3, 1814), Byron tells Moore
that he is 'uncomfortable,' and that he has 'no lack
of argument to ponder upon of the most gloomy
description.'
' Some day or other,' he writes, * when we are
veterans, I may tell you a tale of present and past times ;
and it is not from want of confidence that I do not
now. ... All this wordd be very well if I had no heart;
but, unluckily, I have found that there is such a thing
254 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
still about me, though in no very good repair, and also
that it has a habit of attaching itself to one^ whether I
will or no. Divide et impera, I begin to think, will only
do for politics.'
When Moore, who was puzzled, asked Byron to
explain himself more clearly, he replied : * Guess
darkly, and you will seldom err.'
Thirty-four days later Medora was born, April 15,
1 8 14.
III.
' I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes,
Yielding my couch, and stretched me on the ground,
When overworn with watching, ne'er to rise
From thence if thou an early grave had found.'
Here we see Byron's agony of remorse. Like Herod,
he lamented for Mariamne :
' And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell,
This bosom's desolation dooming ;
And I have earned those tortures well
Which unconsumed are still consuming !'
In ' Manfred ' we find a note of remembrance in the
deprecating words :
' Oh 1 no, no, no I
My injuries came down on those who loved me —
On those whom I best loved : I never quelled
An enem}', save in my just defence —
But my embrace was fatal.'
IV.
' The earthquake came, and rocked the quivering wall,
And men and Nature reeled as if with wine :
Whom did I seek around the tottering hall ?
For thee. Whose safety first provide for ? Thine.'
We now see Byron, at the supreme crisis of his life,
standing in solitude on his hearth, with all his house-
hold gods shivered around him. We perceive that not
least among his troubles at that time was the ever-
haunting fear lest the secret of Medora's birth should
•LOVE DWELLS NOT IN OUR WILL' 255
be disclosed. His greatest anxiety was for Mary's
safety, and this could only be secured by keeping his
matrimonial squabbles out of a court of law. It was,
in fact, by agreeing to sign the deed of separation that
the whole situation was saved. The loyalty of Augusta
Leigh on this occasion was never forgotten :
' There was soft Remembrance and sweet Trust
In one fond breast.'
' That love was pure — and, far above disguise,
Had stood the test of mortal enmities
Still undivided, and cemented more
By peril, dreaded most in female eyes,
But this was firm.'
In the fifth stanza we see Byron, eight years later,
at Missolonghi, struck down by that attack of epilepsy
which preceded his death by only two months :
V.
' And when convulsive throes denied my breath
The faintest utterance to my fading thought,
To thee — to thee — e'en in the gasp of death
My spirit turned, oh ! oftener than it ought.'
In the sixth and final stanza, probably the last lines
that Byron ever wrote, we find him reiterating, with
all a lover's persistency, a belief that Mary could never
have loved him, otherwise she would not have left him.
VI.
' Thus much and more ; and yet thou lov'st me not.
And never wilt ! Love dwells not in our will.
Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot
To strongly, wrongly, vainly love thee still.'
The reproaches of lovers are often unjust. Byron
either could not, or perhaps would not, see that in
abandoning him Mary had been actuated by the
highest, the purest motives, and that the renunciation
must have afforded her deep pain — a sacrifice, not
256 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
lightly made, for Byron's sake quite as much as for her
own. That Byron for a time resented her conduct in
this respect is evident from a remark made in a letter
to Miss Milbanke, dated November 29, 1813. After
saying that he once thought that Mary Chaworth could
have made him happy, he added, * but subsequent events
have proved that my expectations might not have been
fulfilled had I ever proposed to and received my idol.'*
What those 'subsequent events' were may be
guessed from reproaches which at this period appear
among his poems :
' The wholly false the heart despises,
And spurns deceiver and deceit ;
But she who not a thought disguises,
Whose love is as sincere as sweet —
When she can change, who loved so truly,
It feels what mine ha.?, felt so newly.'
In the letter written five years after their final
separation, Byron again reproaches Mary Chaworth,
but this time without a tinge of bitterness :
* My own, we may have been very wrong, but I
repent of nothing except that cursed marriage, and
your refusing to continue to love me as you had loved
me, I can neither forget nor quite forgive you for that
precious piece of reformation. But I can never be
other than I have been, and whenever I love anything,
it is because it reminds me in some way or other of
yourself.'
* The Giaour ' was begun in May and finished in
November, 1813. Those parts which relate to Mary
Chaworth were added to that poem in July and August:
' She was a form of Life and Light,
That, seen, became a part of sight ;
And rose, where'er I turned mine eye,
The Morning-Star of Memory !'
* ' Letters and Journals of Byron,' vol. iii., p. 406, edited by
Rowland E. Prothero.
BYRON'S CONSTANCY 257
Byron says that, like the bird that sings within the
brake, like the swan that swims upon the waters, he
can only have one mate. He despises those who sneer
at constancy. He does not envy them their fickle-
ness, and regards such heartless men as lower in the
scale of creation than the solitary swan.
' Such shame at least was never mine —
Leila ! each thought was only thine !
My good, my guilt, my weal, my woe,
My hope on high — my all below.
Earth holds no other like to thee,
Or, if it doth, in vain for me :
. . . Thou wert, thou art,
The cherished madness of my heart !'
' Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven ;
A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Alia given.
To lift from earth our low desire.
I grant my love imperfect, all
That mortals by the name miscall ;
Then deem it evil, what thou wilt ;
But say, oh say, hers was not Guilt 1
And she was lost — and yet I breathed,
But not the breath of human life :
A serpent round my heart was wreathed.
And stung my every thought to strife.'
Who can doubt that the friend ' of earlier days,'
whose memory the Giaour wishes to bless before he
dies, but whom he dares not bless lest Heaven should
'mark the vain attempt ' of guilt praying for the guilt-
less, was Mary Chaworth. He bids the friar tell that
friend
' What thou didst behold :
The withered frame — the ruined mind.
The wreck that Passion leaves behind —
The shrivelled and discoloured leaf,
Seared by the Autumn blast of Grief.'
He wonders whether that friend is still his friend,
as in those earlier days, when hearts were blended in
17
258 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
that sweet land where bloom his native valley's bowers.
To that friend he sends a ring, which was the memorial
of a youthful vow :
' Tell him — unheeding as I was,
Through many a busy bitter scene
Of all our golden youth hath been,
In pain, my faltering tongue had tried
To bless his memory — ere I died ;
I do not ask him not to blame,
Too gentle he to wound my name ;
I do not ask him not to mourn.
Such cold request might sound like scorn.
But bear this ring, his own of old.
And tell him what thou dost behold !'
The motto chosen by Byron for ' The Giaour ' is in
itself suggestive :
' One fatal remembrance — one sorrow that throws
Its bleak shade alike o'er our Joys and our Woes —
To which Life nothing darker nor brighter can bring,
For which Joy hath no balm — and affliction no sting.'
On October lo, 1813, Byron arrived at Newstead,
where he stayed for a month. Mary Chaworth was
at Annesley during that time. On his return to town
he wrote (November 8) to his sister:
' My dearest Augusta,
' I have only time to say that my long silence
has been occasioned by a thousand things (with which
you are not concerned). It is not Lady Caroline, nor
Lady Oxford ; but perhaps you may guess, and if you
do, do not tell. You do not know what mischief your
being with me might have prevented. You shall hear
from me to-morrow ; in the meantime don't be alarmed.
I am in Tto immediate peril.
' Believe me, ever yours,
'B.'
On November 30 Byron wrote to Moore :
* We were once very near neighbours this autumn ;*
* Moore had rented a cottage in Nottinghamshire, not very remote
from Newstead Abbey.
'MOTHER AND MAY' 259
and a good and bad neighbourhood it has proved to
me. Suffice it to say that your French quotation (Si
je recommen^ais ma carriere, je ferais tout ce que j'ai
fait) was confoundedly to the purpose, — though very
unexpectedly pertinent, as you may imagine by what I
said before, and my silence since. However, " Richard's
himself again," and, except all night and some part of
the morning, I don't think very much about the matter.
All convulsions end with me in rhyme ; and to solace
my midnights I have scribbled another Turkish story
[' The Bride of Abydos '] which you will receive
soon after this. , . . I have written this, and published
it, for the sake of employment — to wring my thoughts
from reality, and take refuge in "imaginings," how-
ever " horrible." . . . This is the work of a week. . . .'
In order the more effectually to dispose of the theory
that Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster was the
cause of Byron's disquietude, we insert an extract
from his journal, dated a fortnight earlier (November
14, 1813):
' Last night I finished " Zuleika " [the name was
afterwards changed to ' The Bride of Abydos '], my
second Turkish tale. I believe the composition of it
kept me alive — for it was written to drive my thoughts
from the recollection of **** " Dear sacred name, rest
ever unrevealed." At least, even here, my hand would
tremble to write it. . . . I have some idea of expec-
torating a romance, but what romance could equal the
events
' " . . . quaeque ipse . . . vidi,
Et quorum pars magna f ui " ?'
Surely the name that Byron dared not write, even
in his own journal, was not that of Lady Frances
Webster, whose name appears often in his correspon-
dence. The * sacred name ' was that of one of whom
he afterwards wrote, 'Thou art both Mother and
May.'
During October, November, and December, 181 3,
17—2
26o WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
Byron's mind was in a perturbed condition. We
gather, from a letter which he wrote to Moore on
November 30, that his thoughts were centred on a lady
living in Nottinghamshire*, and that the scrape, which
he mentions in his letter to Augusta on November 8,
referred to that lady and the dreaded prospects of
maternity.
Mr. Coleridge believes that the verses, * Remember
him, whom Passion's power,' were addressed to Lady
Frances Wedderburn Webster. There is nothing, so
far as the present writer knows, to support that
opinion. There is no evidence to show the month in
which they were written ; and, in view of the statement
that the lady in question had lived in comparative
retirement, ' Thy soul from long seclusion pure,'
and that she had, because of his presumption, banished
the poet in 1813, it could not well have been Lady
Frances Webster, who in September of that year had
asked Byron to be godfather to her child, and in
October had invited him to her house. It is note-
worthy that Byron expressly forbade Murray to pub-
lish those verses with ' The Corsair,' where, it must be
owned, they would have been sadly out of place.
* Farewell, if ever fondest prayer,' was decidedly more
appropriate to the state of things existing at that time.
The motto chosen for his * Bride of Abydos * is taken
from Burns :
' Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met — or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.'
The poem was written early in November, 1813.
Byron has told us that it was written to divert his
■**• See ' Letters and Journals of Lord Byron,' edited by Rowland
Prothero, vol. ii., pp. 267, 269, 278, 292.
•THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS' 261
mind,* * to wring his thoughts from reality to imagina-
tion, from selfish regrets to vivid recollections '; to
'distract his thoughts from the recollection of ****
" Dear sacred name, rest ever unrevealed," ' and
in a letter to John Gait (December 11, 1813) he
says that parts of the poem were drawn * from exist-
ence.' He had been staying at Newstead, in close
proximity to Annesley, from October 10 to November 8,
during which time, as he says, he regretted the absence
of his sister Augusta, 'who might have saved him much
trouble.' He says, 'All convulsions end with me in
rhyme,' and that 'The Bride of Abydos' was 'the work
of a week.' In speaking of a ' dear sacred name, rest
ever unrevealed,' he says : ' At least even here my
hand would tremble to write it'; and on November 30
he writes to Moore : ' Since I last wrote' (October 2),
' much has happened to me.' On November 27 he
writes in his journal : ' Mary — dear name — thou art
both Mother and May.'f At the end of November,
after he had returned to town, he writes in his journal :
***** is distant, and will be at * * * *, still more distant,
till the spring. No one else, except Augusta, cares
for me. ... I am tremendously in arrears with my
letters, except to ****, and to her my thoughts over-
power me — my words never compass them.'
On November 14 Byron sends a device for the seals
of himself and ****; the seal in question is at present
in the possession of the Chaworth-Musters family. On
December 10, we find from one of Byron's letters that
* ' Had I not written " The Bride " (in four nights), I must have
gone mad by eating my own heart — bitter diet.' — 'Journals and
Letters,' vol. ii., p. 321.
t ' Hail be you, Mary, mother and May,
Mild, and meek, and merciable !'
An Ancient Hymn to the Virgin.
262 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
he had thoughts of committing suicide, and was
deterred by the idea that * it would annoy Augusta,
and perhaps ****,'
Byron seems to have put into the mouth of Zuleika
words which conveyed his own thoughts :
' Think' st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart ?
Ah ! were I severed from thy side,
Where were thy friend — and who my guide ?
Years have not seen, Time shall not see,
The hour that tears my soul from thee :
Ev'n Azrael, from his deadly quiver
When flies that shaft, and fly it must,
That parts all else, shall doom for ever
Our hearts to undivided dust !
*****
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower.
The partner of her infancy ?
These cherished thoughts with life begun,
Say, why must I no more avow ?'
Selim suggests that Zuleika should brave the world
and fly with him :
' But be the Star that guides the wanderer, Thou !
Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark ;
The Dove of peace and promise to mine ark !
Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife,
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life !
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray !
*****
Not blind to Fate, I see, where'er I rove.
Unnumbered perils, — but one only love !
Yet well my toils shall that fond breast repay,
Though Fortune frown, or falser friends betray.'
Zuleika, we are told, was the ' last of Giaffir's race.'*
* Mary was ' the last of a time-honoured race.' The line of the
Chaworths ended with her.
'THE CORSAIR' 263
Selim tells her that 'life is hazard at the best,' and
there is much to fear :
' Yes, fear ! the doubt, the dread of losing thee.
That dread shall vanish with the favouring gale ;
Which Love to-night has promised to my sail.
No danger daunts the pair his smile hath blest,
Their steps still roving, but their hearts at rest.
With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms ;
Earth — Sea alike — our world within our arms !'
'The Corsair' was written between December 18,
1813, and January 11, 1814. While it was passing
through the press, Byron was at Newstead. He gives
a little of his own spirit to Conrad, and all Mary's
virtues to Medora — a name which was afterwards
given to his child. Conrad
' Knew himself a villain — but he deemed
The rest no better than the thing he seemed ;
And scorned the best as hypocrites who hid
Those deeds the bolder spirit plainly did.
Lone, wild, and strange, he stood alike exempt
From all affection and from all contempt.
None are all evil — quickening round his heart.
One softer feeHng would not yet depart.
Yet 'gainst that passion vainly still he strove,
And even in him it asks the name of Love !
Yes, it was Love — unchangeable — unchanged.
Felt but for one from whom he never ranged.
Yes — it was Love — if thoughts of tenderness,
Tried in temptation, strengthened by distress,
Unmoved by absence, firm in every clime.
And yet — oh ! more than all ! untired by Time.
If there be Love in mortals — this was Love !
He was a villain — aye, reproaches shower
On him — but not the Passion, nor its power,
Which only proved — all other virtues gone —
Not Guilt itself could quench this earliest one !'
The following verses are full of meaning for the
initiated :
264 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
' Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells,
Lonely and lost to light for evermore,
Save when to thine my heart responsive swells,
Then trembles into silence as before.
II.
' There, in its centre, a sepulchral lamp
Burns the slow flame, eternal — but unseen ;
Which not the darkness of Despair can damp,
Though vain its ray as it had never been.
III.
' Remember me — oh ! pass not thou my grave
Without one thought whose relics there recline :
The only pang my bosom dare not brave
Must be to find forgetfulness in thine.
IV.
' My fondest — faintest — latest accents hear —
Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove ;
Then give me all I ever asked — a tear.
The first — last — sole reward of so much love !'
Conrad and Medora part, to meet no more in life
' But she is nothing — wherefore is he here ? . . .
By the first glance on that still, marble brow —
It was enough — she died — what recked it how ?
The love of youth, the hope of better years,
The source of softest wishes, tenderest fears,
The only living thing he could not hate,
Was reft at once — and he deserved his fate,
But did not feel it less.'
The blow he feared the most had fallen at last.
The only woman whom he loved had withdrawn her
society from him, and his heart,
' Formed for softness — warped to wrong.
Betrayed too early, and beguiled too long,'
was petrified at last
A POETIC TRILOGY 265
Yet tempests wear, and lightning cleaves the rock ;
If such his heart, so shattered it the shock.
There grew one flower beneath its rugged brow,
Though dark the shade — it sheltered — saved till now.
The thunder came — that bolt hath blasted both,
The Granite's firmness, and the Lily's growth :
The gentle plant hath left no leaf to tell
Its tale, but shrunk and withered where it fell ;
And of its cold protector, blacken round
But shivered fragments on the barren ground !'
In moments of deep emotion, even the most reticent
of men may sometimes reveal themselves. 'The
Giaour,' 'The Bride of Ab3^dos,' and 'The Corsair,'
formed a trilogy, through which the tragedy of Byron's
life swept like a musical theme. Those poems acted
like a recording instrument which, by registering his
transient moods, was destined ultimately to betra}'
a secret which he had been at so much pains to hide.
In ' The Giaour ' we see remorse for a crime, which he
was at first willing to expiate in sorrow and repent-
ance. In ' The Bride of Abydos ' we find him, in an
access of madness and passion, proposing to share the
fate of his victim, if she will but consent to fly with
him. Happily for both, Mary would never have con-
sented to an act of social suicide. In 'The Corsair'
we behold his dreams dispelled by the death of his
Love and the hope of better years.
' He asked no question — all were answered now !'
With the dramatic fate of Medora the curtain falls,
and the poet, in whom
' I suoi pensieri in lui dormir non ponno,'
crosses the threshold of a new life. He reappears
later on the scene of all his woes, a broken, friendless
stranger, in the person of Lara — that last phase, in
which the poet discloses his identity with character-
266 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
istic insouciance, brings the tragedy abruptly to a
close.*
On January 6, 1814, Byron wrote a remarkable letter
to Moore, at that time in Nottinghamshire :
* ... I have a confidence for you — a perplexing one
to me, and just at present in a state of abeyance in
itself. . . . [Here probably follows the disclosure.]
However, we shall see. In the meantime you may
amuse yourself with my suspense, and put all the
justices of peace in requisition, in case I come into
your county [Nottinghamshire] with hackbut bent.f
Seriously, whether I am to hear from her or him, it is
a pause, which I can fill up with as few thoughts of
my own as I can borrow from other people. Anything
is better than stagnation ; and now, m the interregnum
of my autumn and a strange summer adventure, which
I don't like to think of . . . Of course you will keep
my secret, and don't even talk in your sleep of it.
Happen what may, your dedication is ensured, being
already written ; and I shall copy it out fair to-night, in
case business or amusement — Amant alterna Camoence!
Byron here refers to ' The Corsair,* which he dedi-
cated to Thomas Moore. In order to understand this
letter, it may be inferred that one of the letters he had
written to his lady-love had remained so long un-
answered that Byron feared it might have fallen into
her husband's hands. Writing to Moore on the follow-
ing day, Byron says :
' My last epistle would probably put you in a fidget.
But the devil, who ought to be civil on such occasions,
* It will be remembered that Byron had announced ' The Corsair '
as ' the last production with wliich he should trespass on public
patience for some years.' With the loss of Mary's love his inspiration
was gone.
t ' With hackbut bent, my secret stand,
Dark as the purposed deed, I chose,
And mark'd where, mingling in his band,
Trooped Scottish pikes and English bows.'
Sir Walter Scott : Cadyow Castle.
A LETTER FROM MRS. CHAWORTH 267
proved so, and took my letter to the right place. . . .
Is it not odd ? the very fate I said she had escaped from
**** she has now undergone from the worthy ****.'
An undated letter from Mary Chaworth, preserved
among the Byron letters in Mr. Murray's possession,
seems to belong to this period :
* Your kind letter, my dear friend, relieved me much,
and came yesterday, when I was by no means well,
and was a most agreeable remedy, for I fancied a
thousand things. ... I shall set great value by your
seal, and, if you come down to Newstead before we
leave Annesley, see no reason why you should not
call on us and bring it. . . .* I have lately suffered
from a pain in my side, which has alarmed me ; but I
will not, in return for your charming epistle, fill mine
with complaints. ... I am surprised you have not
seen Mr. Chaworth, as I hear of him going about a
good deal. We [herself and Miss Radford] are now
visiting very near Nottingham, but return to Annesley
to-morrow, I trust, where I have left all my little dears
except the eldest, whomj^ow saw, and who is with me.
We are very anxious to see you, and yet know not how
we shall feel on the occasion— /or;;;«/, I dare say, at
\hQ first ; but our meeting must be confined to our trio,
and then 1 think we shall be more at our ease. Do
write me, and make a sacrifice to friendship, which I
shall consider 3^our visit. You may always address
your letters to Annesley perfectly safe.
* Your sincere friend,
* Mary '
On or about January 7, 1814, Byron writes to his
sister Augusta in reference to Mary Chaworth :
' I shall write to-morrow, but did not go to Lady M.'s
[Melbourne] twelfth cake banquet. M. [Mary] has
written again — all friendship — and really very simple
and pathetic — bad usage — paleness — ill-health — old
friendship — once — good motive — virtue — and so forth.'
* Mary's allusion to the seal is explained by an entry in Byron's
journal, November 14, 1813. The seal is treasured as a memento of
Byron by the Musters family.
268 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
Five days later Byron again writes to Augusta
Leigh :
'On Sunday or Monday next, with leave of your
lord and president, you will be well and ready to
accompany me to Newstead, which you should see,
and I will endeavour to render as comfortable as I can,
for both our sakes. . . . Claughton is, I believe,
inclined to settle. . . . More news from Mrs.
[Chaworth], all friendship ; you shall see her.'
Medora was born on or about April 15, 18 14.
'Lara' was written between May 4 and 14. The
opening lines, which would have set every tongue
wagging, were withheld from publication until January,
1887. They were written in London early in May,
and were addressed to the mother of Medora :
' When thou art gone — the loved, the lost — the one
Whose smile hath gladdened, though perchance undone —
Whose name too dearly cherished to impart
Dies on the lip, but trembles in the heart ;
Whose sudden mention can almost convulse,
And lightens through the ungovernable pulse —
Till the heart leaps so keenly to the word
We fear that throb can hardly beat unheard — *
Then sinks at once beneath that sickly chill
That follows when we find her absent still.
When thou art gone — too far again to bless —
Oh ! God — how slowly comes Forgetfulness !
Let none complain how faithless and how brief
The brain's remembrance, or the bosom's grief,
Or ere they thus forbid us to forget
Let Mercy strip the memory of regret ;
Yet — seliish still — we would not be forgot,
W^hat lip dare say — " My Love — remember not " ?
* No one, we presume, will question the identity of the person
mentioned in ' The Dream' :
' Upon a tone,
A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,
And his cheek change tempestuously — his heart
Unknowing of its cause of agony.'
' MAGDALEN ' 269
Oh ! best — and dearest ! Thou whose thrilling name
My heart adores too deeply to proclaim —
My memory, almost ceasing to repine,
Would mount to Hope if once secure of thine.
Meantime the tale I weave must mournful be —
As absence to the heart that lives on thee !'
Lord Lovelace has told us that * nothing is too
stupid for belief,' We are disposed to agree with him,
especially as he produces these lines in support of his
accusation against Augusta Leigh. The absurdity of
supposing that they were addressed to Byron's sister
appears to us to be so evident that it seems unneces-
sary to waste words in disputation. There is abundant
proof that during this period Mrs. Leigh and Byron
were in constant correspondence, and that he visited
her almost daily during her simulated confinement
and convalescence. When Murray sent her some
books to while away the time, Byron wrote (April 9)
on her behalf to thank him. And finally, as Augusta
Leigh had no intention whatever of leaving London,
she could in no sense have been * the lost one ' whose
prospective departure filled Byron with despair. The
poet and his sister — whom he was accustomed to
address as * Goose '* — were then, and always, on most
familiar terms. The ' mention of her name ' (which
was often on his lips) would certainly not have con-
vulsed him, nor have caused his heart to beat so loudly
that he feared lest others should hear it I The woman
to whom those lines were addressed was Mary Cha-
worth, whose condition induced him, on April 18, to
begin a fragment entitled ' Magdalen ' — she of whom
he wrote on May 4 :
' I speak not — I trace not — I breathe not thy name —
There is Love in the sound — there is Guilt in the fame.'
* ' Astarte,' p. 134.
270 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
Lord Lovelace, in his impetuosity, and with very
imperfect knowledge of Byron's life-story, ties every
doubtful scrap of his grandfather's poetry into his
bundle of proofs against Augusta Leigh, without per-
ceiving any discrepancy in the nature of his evidence.
A moment's reflection might have convinced him that
the lines we have quoted could not, by any possi-
bility, have applied to one whom he subsequently
addressed as :
' My sister ! my sweet sister ! if a name
Dearer and purer were, it should be thine ;
*****
Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun,
I had been better than I now can be ;
The passions which have torn me would have slept ;
/ had not suffered, and thou hadst not wept'
It must be admitted that Byron, through indiscreet
confidences and reckless mystifications, was partly the
cause of the suspicions which afterwards fell upon his
sister. Lady Byron has left it on record that Byron
early in 1814 — before the birth of Medora — told Lady
Caroline Lamb that a woman he passionately loved
was with child by him, and that if a daughter was
born it should be called Medora.* At about the same
time 'he advanced, at Holland House, the most extra-
ordinary theories about the relations of brother and
sister, which originated the reports about Mrs. Leigh.*
That, after ninety years, such nonsense should be
regarded as evidence against a woman so well known
in the society of her day as was Mrs. Leigh, justifies
* Lady Caroline Lamb also asserted that Byron showed her some
letters which contained some such expression as this : " Oh ! B ,
if we loved one another as we did in childhood — then it was innocent."
The reader may judge whether such a remark would be more natural
from Augusta, or from Mary Chaworth.
THE MYSTERY IN 'LARA' 271
our concurrence with Lord Lovelace's opinion that
' nothing is too stupid for belief.'
It appears that one day Lady Byron was talking to
her husband about ' Lara,' which seemed to her to
be Mike the darkness in which one fears to behold
spectres.' This bait was evidently too tempting for
Byron to resist. He replied : * " Lara" — there's more in
that than in any of them.' As he spoke he shuddered,
and turned his eyes to the ground.
Before we examine that poem to see how much it
may contain of illuminating matter, we will touch
upon a remark Byron made to his wife, which Lord
Lovelace quotes without perceiving its depth and
meaning. We will quote 'Astarte':
* He told Lady Byron that if she had married him
when he first proposed, he should not have written
any of the poems which followed [the first and second
Cantos] "Childe Harold."'
This is perfectly true. Byron proposed to Miss
Milbanke in 1812. If she had married him then, he
would not have renewed his intimacy with Mary
Chaworth in June, 1813. There would have been no
heart-hunger, no misery, no remorse, and, in short, no
inspiration for 'The Giaour," The Bride,' 'The Corsair,'
and 'Lara.' Miss Milbanke's refusal of his offer of
marriage in 1812 rankled long in Byron's mind, and
provoked those ungenerous reproaches which have
been, with more or less exaggeration, reported by
persons in Lady Byron's confidence. The mischief
was done between the date of Miss Milbanke's refusal
and her acceptance of his offer, which occurred after
the fury of his passion for Mary Chaworth had burnt
itself out. No blame attaches to Lady Byron for this
misfortune. When Byron first proposed, her affiec-
272 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
tions were elsewhere engaged ; she could not, there-
fore, dispose of her heart to him. When she at last
accepted him, it was too late for happiness.
In a letter which Byron wrote to Miss Milbanke
previous to his marriage,* he unconsciously prophesied
the worst :
* The truth is that could I have foreseen that your life
was to be linked to mine — had I even possessed a dis-
tinct hope, however distant — I would have been a dif-
ferent and better being. As it is, 1 have sometimes
doubts, even if I should not disappoint the future, nor
act hereafter unworthily of you, whether the past ought
not to make you still regret me — even that portion of
it with which you are not unacquainted. I did not
believe such a woman existed — at least for me — and I
sometimes fear I ought to wish that she had not!
When Byron said that he had doubts whether the
past would not eventually reflect injuriously upon his
future wife, he referred, not to Augusta Leigh, but
to his fatal intercourse with Mary Chaworth. The
following sentences taken from Mrs. Leigh's letters
to Francis Hodgson, who knew the truth, prove that
the mystery only incidentally affected Augusta. The
letters were written February, 1816.
' From what passed [between Captain Byron and
Mrs. Clermont] now^ ii they choose it, it must come
into court 1 God alone knows the consequences.'
' It strikes me that, if their pecuniary proposals are
favourable, Byron will be too happy to escape the
exposure. He must be anxious. It is impossible he
should not in some degree.'
These are the expressions, not of a person con-
nected with a tragedy, but rather of one who was
a spectator of it. Every impartial person m.ust see
that. When, on another occasion, Byron told his wife
* October 14, 1814.
LARA 273
that he wished he had gone abroad — as he had
intended — in June, 181 3, he undoubtedl}'' implied that
the fatal intimacy with Mary Chaworth would have
been avoided. This seems so clear to us that we are
surprised that Byron's statement on the subject of his
poems should have made no impression on the mind
of Lord Lovelace, and should have elicited nothing
from him in 'Astarte,' except the banale suggestion
that Byron's literary activity must have been accidental !
Lara, like Conrad, is a portion of Byron himself, and
the poem opens with his return to Newstead after
some bitter experiences, at which he darkly hints :
' Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.'
He tells us that ' Another chief consoled his destined
bride.' 'One is absent that most might decorate that
gloomy pile.'
' Why slept he not when others were at rest ?
Why heard no music, and received no guest ?
All was not well, they deemed — but where the wrong?
Some knew perchance.'
In stanzas 17, 18, and 19, Byron draws a picture
of himself, so like that his sister remarked upon it
in a letter to Hodgson. After telling us that 'his
heart was not by nature hard,' he says that
' His blood in temperate seeming now would flow :
Ah ! happier if it ne'er with guilt had glowed,
But ever in that icy smoothness flowed !'
The poet tells us that after Lara's death he was
mourned by one whose quiet grief endured for long.
' Vain was all question asked her of the past,
And vain e'en menace — silent to the last.'
' Why did she love him ? Curious fool ! — be still —
Is human love the growth of human will ?
18
274 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
To her he might be gentleness ; the stern
Have deeper thoughts than your dull eyes discern,
And when they love, your smilers guess not how
Beats the strong heart, though less the lips avow.
They were not common links, that formed the chain
That bound to Lara Kaled's heart and brain ;
But that wild tale she brooked not to unfold,
And sealed is now each lip that could have told.
*****
' The tempest of his heart in scorn had gazed
On that the feebler Elements hath raised.
The Rapture of his Heart had looked on high.
And asked if greater dwelt beyond the sky :
Chained to excess, the slave of each extreme,
How woke he from the wildness of that dream!
Alas ! he told not — but he did awake
To curse the withered heart that would not break.'
On September 8, 1814, four months after Byron had
finished * Lara,' while he was at Newstead with his
sister and her children — the little Medora among
them — he wrote his fragment * Harmodia.' The
rough draft was given after his marriage to Lady
Byron, who had no idea to what it could possibly
refer. When the scandal about Augusta was at its
height, this fragment was impounded among other
incriminating documents, and eventually saw the
light in 'Astarte.' Lord Lovelace was firmly con-
vinced that it was addressed to Augusta Leigh !
Between September 7 and 15 Byron and Mary
Chaworth were considering the desirability of marriage
for Byron, and letters were passing between the dis-
tracted poet and two young ladies — Miss Milbanke
and another — with that object in view. Although
Byron was still in love with Mary Chaworth, he had
come to understand that her determination to break
the dangerous intimacy was irrevocable, so he resolved
to follow her advice and marry. The tone of his letter
'HARMODIA' 275
to Moore, written on September 15, shows that he
was not very keen about wedlock. He was making
plans for a journey to Italy in the event of his pro-
posal being rejected.
It is possible that, in a conversation between Mary
and himself, the former may have spoken of the risks
they had incurred in the past, and of her resolve never
to transgress again. To which Byron replied :
Harmodia.
' The things that were — and what and whence are they ?
Those clouds and rainbows of thy yesterday ?
Their path has vanish'd from th' eternal sky,
And now its hues are of a different dye.
Thus speeds from day to day, and Pole to Pole,
The change of parts, the sameness of the whole ;
And all we snatch, amidst the breathing strife,
But gives to Memory what it takes from Life :
Despoils a substance to adorn a shade —
And that frail shadow lengthens but to fade.
Sun of the sleepless ! Melancholy Star !
Whose tearful beam shoots trembling from afar —
That chang'st the darkness thou canst not dispel —
How like art thou to Joy, remembered well !
Such is the past — the light of other days
That shines, but warms not with its powerless rays —
A moonbeam Sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct, but distant — clear, but dcaih-likc cold.
' Oh ! as full thought comes rushing o'er the Mind
Of all we saw before — to leave behind —
Of all ! — but words, what are they ? Can they give
A trace of truth to thoughts while yet they live ?
No — Passion — Feeling speak not — or in vain —
The tear for Grief — the Groan must speak for Pain —
Joy hath its smile — and Love its blush and sigh —
Despair her silence — Hate her lip and eye —
These their interpreters, where deeply lurk —
The Soul's despoilers warring as they work —
The strife once o'er — then words may find their way,
Yet how enfeebled from the forced delay !
18—2
276 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
' But who could paint the progress of the wreck —
Himself still clinging to the dangerous deck?
Safe on the shore the artist first must stand,
And then the pencil trembles in his hand.'
When, four years later, Byron was writing the
first canto of ' Don Juan,' with feelings chastened by
suffering and time, he recurred to that period — never
effaced from his memory — the time when he wrote :
' When thou art gone — the loved — the lost — the one
Whose smile hath gladdened — though, perchance, undone !'
Time could not change the feelings of his youth, nor
keep his thoughts for long from the object of his early
love.
' They tell me 'tis decided j'^ou depart :
'Tis wise — 'tis well, but not the less a pain ;
I have no further claim on your young heart,
Mine is the victim, and would be again :
To love too much has been the only art
I used.'
' I loved, I love you, for this love have lost
State, station. Heaven, Mankind's, my own esteem.
And yet can not regret what it hath cost.
So dear is still the memory of that dream ;
Yet, if I name my guilt, 'tis not to boast.
None can deem harshlier of me than I deem.'
' All is o'er
For me on earth, except some years to hide
My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core :
These I could bear, but cannot cast aside
The passion which still rages as before —
And so farewell — forgive me, love me — No,
That word is idle now — but let it go.'
' My heart is feminine, nor can forget —
To all, except one image, madly blind ;
So shakes the needle, and so stands the pole,
As vibrates my fond heart to my fixed soul.'
■
FAREWELL 277
It was early in 18 14 that Byron also wrote his fare-
well verses to Mary Chaworth, which appeared in the
second edition of 'The Corsair':
I.
' Farewell ! if ever fondest prayer
For other's weal availed on high,
Mine will not all be lost m air,
But waft thy name beyond the sky.
'Twere vain to speak — to weep — to sigh :
Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell,
When wrung from Guilt's expiring eye,
Are in that word — Farewell ! Farewell !
II.
' These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ;
But in my breast, and in my brain,
Awake the pangs that pass not by,
The thought that ne'er shall sleep again.
My soul nor deigns nor dares complain,
Though Grief and Passion there rebel :
I only know we loved in vain —
I only feel — Farewell ! Farewell !'
Even in the ' Hebrew Melodies,' which were prob-
ably begun in the autumn of 18 14, and finished after
Byron's marriage in January, 1815, there are traces
of that deathless remorse and love, whose expression
could not be altogether repressed. We select some
examples at random. In the poem 'Oh, snatched
away in Beauty's bloom,' the poet had added two
verses which were subsequently suppressed :
' Nor need I write to tell the tale,
My pen were doubly weak.
Oh ! what can idle words avail.
Unless my heart could speak ?
' By day or night, in weal or woe,
That heart, no longer free,
Must bear the love it cannot show.
And silent turn for thee.'
278 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
In * Herod's Lament for Mariamne ' we find :
' She's gone, who shared my diadem ;
She sunk, with her my joys entombing;
I swept that flower from Judah's stem.
Whose leaves for me alone were blooming ;
And mine's the guilt, and mine the Hell,
This bosom's desolation dooming ;
And I have earned those tortures well,
Which unconsumed are still consuming !'
While admitting that Byron's avowed object was to
portray the remorse of Herod, we suspect that the
haunting image of one so dear to him — one who had
suffered through guilt which he so frequently deplored
in verse — must have been in the poet's mind when
these lines were written.
On January 17, 18 14, Byron went to Newstead with
Augusta Leigh, and stayed there one month.
' A busy month and pleasant, at least three weeks of
it. . . . "The Corsair" has been conceived, written,
published, etc., since I took up this journal. They
tell me it has great success ; it was written con amore^
and much from existence.'
On the following day Byron wrote to his friend
Wedderburn Webster :
* I am on my way to the country on rather a melan-
choly expedition. A very old and earl}^ connexion
[Mary Chaworth], or rather friend of mine, has desired
to see me ; and, as now we can never be more than
friends, I have no objection. She is certainly unhappy
and, I fear, ill ; and the length and circumstances
attending our acquaintance render her request and
my visit neither singular nor improper.'
This strange apology for what might have been con-
sidered a very natural act of neighbourly friendship,
inevitably reminds us of a French proverb. Qui s excuse
s' accuse. It is worthy of note that, after Byron had been
d
DEPRESSED BY ANXIETIES 279
ten days at Newstead with his sister, he wrote to his
lawyer — who must have been surprised at the irrele-
vant information — to say that Augusta Leigh was ' in
the family way.' The significance of this communica-
tion has hitherto passed unnoticed. We gather from
Byron's letters that he was much depressed by Mary
Chaworth's state of health, involving all the risks of
discovery.
* My rhyming propensity is quite gone,' he writes,
* and I feel much as I did at Patras on recovering
from my fever — weak, but in health, and only afraid
of a relapse.'
Soon after his return to London Byron wrote to
Moore : ' Seriously, I am in what the learned call a
dilemma, and the vulgar, a scrape. . . .'
Moore took care, with his asterisks, that we should
not know the nature of that scrape, which certainly
had nothing to do with his ' Lines to a Lady Weep-
ing' which appeared in the first edition of 'The
Corsair.' If the reader has any doubts on this point,
let him refer to Byron's letters to Murray, notably to
that one in which the angry poet protests against the
suppression of those lines in the second edition of
* The Corsair ':
'You have played the devil by that injudicious sup-
pression^ which you did totally without my consent.
. . . Now, I do not, and will not be supposed to shrink,
although myself and everything belonging to me were
to perish with my memory.'
Moore's asterisks veiled the record of a deeper
scrape, as Byron's letter to him, written three weeks
later, plainly show.
On April 10, 1814, Byron wrote in his journal :
* I do not know that I am happiest when alone ; but
this I am sure of, that I am never long in the society
28o WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
even of her I love (God knows too well, and the Devil
probably too), without a yearning for the company of
my lamp, and my utterly confused and tumbled-over
library.'
The latter portion of the journal at this period is
much mutilated. There is a gap between April lo
and 19, when, four days after the birth of Medora, he
writes in deep dejection :
' There is ice at both poles, north and south — all
extremes are the same — misery belongs to the highest
and the lowest, only ... I will keep no further
journal . . . and, to prevent me from returning, like a
dog, to the vomit of memory, I tear out the remaining
leaves of this volume. ... " O I fool ! I shall go
mad." '
It was at this time that Byron wrote the following
lines, in which he tells Mary Chaworth that all danger
of the discovery of their secret is over :
' There is no more for me to hope,
There is no more for thee to fear ;
- ■ And, if I give my sorrow scope,
-^ l^i J, J That sorrow thou shalt never hear.
Why did I hold thy love so dear ?
Why shed for such a heart one tear ?
Let deep and dreary silence be
My only memory of thee !
When all are fled who flatter now,
Save thoughts which will not flatter then ;
And thou recall'st the broken vow
To him who must not love again —
Each hour of noiv forgotten years
Thou, then, shalt number with thy tears ;
And every drop of grief shall be
A vain remembrancer of me !'
On May 4, 1814, Byron sent to Moore the following
verses. We quote from Lady Byron's manuscript :
' I speak not — I trace not — I breathe not thy name —
There is love in the sound — there is Guilt in the fame —
ATTEMPTS TO SUPPRESS HIS POEMS 281
But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
' Too brief for our passion — too long for our peace —
Was that hour — can its hope — can its memory cease ?
We repent — we abjure — we will break from our chain :
We must part — we must fly to — unite it again !
' Oh ! thine be the gladness — and mine be the Guilt !
Forgive me — adored one — forsake if thou wilt —
But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased,
And Man shall not break it whatever thou mayst.
' Oh ! proud to the mighty — but humble to thee
This soul in its bitterest moment shall be,
And our days glide as swift — and our moments more sweet
With thee at my side — than the world at my feet.
' One tear of thy sorrow — one smile of thy love —
Shall turn me or fix — shall reward or reprove —
And the heartless may wonder at all I resign :
Thy lip shall reply — not to them — but to mine.'
These verses were not published until Byron had
been five years in his grave. They tell the story
plainly, and the manuscript in Mr. Murray's possession
speaks plainer still. Before Byron gave the manu-
script to his wife, he erased the following lines :
' We have loved — and oh ! still, my adored one, we love !'
' Oh ! the moment is past when that passion might cease.'
' But I cannot repent what we ne'er can recall.'
After Medora's birth Byron became more and more
dejected, and on April 29 he wrote a remarkable letter
to Murray, enclosing a draft to redeem the copyrights
of his poems, and releasing Murray from his engage-
ment to pay ^1,000, agreed on for 'The Giaour' and
' The Bride of Abydos.' Byron was evidently afraid
that Mr. Chaworth Musters would discover the truth,
and that a duel and disgrace would be the inevitable
consequence.
282 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
' If any accident occurs to 7ne, you may do then as you
please ; but, with the exception of two copies of each
ior yourself ox\\y, I expect and request that the adver-
tisements be withdrawn, and the remaining copies of
all destroyed ; and any expense so incurred I will be
glad to defray. For all this it may be well to assign
some reason, I have none to give except my own
caprice, and I do not consider the circumstance of
consequence enough to require explanation. Of course,
I need hardly assure you that they never shall be
published with my consent, directly or indirectly, by
any other person whatsoever, and that I am perfectly
satisfied, and have every reason so to be, with your
conduct in all transactions between us, as publisher
and author. It will give me great pleasure to preserve
your acquaintance, and to consider you as my friend.'
Two days later Byron seems to have conquered his
immediate apprehensions, and, in reply to an appeal
from Murray, writes :
'If your present note is serious, and it really would
be inconvenient, there is an end of the matter; tear
my draft, and go on as usual : in that case we will
recur to our former basis. That / was perfectly
serious in wishing to suppress all future publication
is true ; but certainly not to interfere with the con-
venience of others, and more particularly your own.
Some day I will tell you the reason of this apparently
strange resolution.''
It had evidently dawned on Byron's mind that a
sudden suppression of his poems would have aroused
public curiosity, and that a motive for his action would
either have been found or invented. This would have
been fatal to all concerned. If trouble were to come,
it would be wiser not to meet it halfway. Happily,
the birth of Medora passed unnoticed.
As time wore on, Byron's hopes that Mary would
relent grew apace. But he was doomed to disappoint-
ment. Mary Chaworth had the courage and the wisdom
LAST MEETING WITH THYRZA 283
to crush a love so disastrous to both. Byron in his
blindness reproached her :
' Thou art not false, but thou art fickle.'
He tells her that he would despise her if she were
false ; but he knows that her love is sincere :
* When she can change who loved so truly !'
* Ah ! sure such grief is Fancy's scheming,
And all the Change can be but dreaming !'
He could not believe that her resolve was serious.
Time taught him better. Love died, and friendship
took its place. The same love that tempted her to
sin was that true love that works out its redemp-
tion.
Between April 15 and 21, 1816, before signing the
deed of separation, Byron went into the country to
take leave of Mary Chaworth. It was their last meet-
ing, and the parting must have been a sad one. The
hopes that Mary had formed for his peace and happi-
ness in marriage had suddenly been dashed to the
ground. And now he was about to leave England
under a cloud, which threatened for a time to over-
whelm them both. A terrible anxiety as to the issue
of investigations, which were being made into his
conduct previous to and during his marriage, op-
pressed her with the gravest apprehension. Every-
thing seemed to depend upon the silence both of
Byron and Augusta. Under this awful strain the
mind of Mary Chaworth was flickering towards col-
lapse. By the following verses, which must have
been written soon after their final meeting, we find
Byron,
' Seared in heart — and lone — and blighted,'
reproaching, with a lover's injustice, the woman he
284 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
adored, for that act of renunciation which, under
happier auspices, might have proved his own salva-
tion :
I.
• When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss ;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
II.
' The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow —
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame :
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
III.
' They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear ;
A shudder comes o'er me —
Why wert thou so dear ?
They know not I knew thee.
Who knew thee too well :
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
IV.
' In secret we met —
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.'
IF LADY BYRON HAD KNOWN 285
In the first draft Byron had written, after the second
verse, the following words :
* Our secret lies hidden,
But never forgot.'
In 'Fare Thee Well,' written on March 17, 1816,
there are only four lines which have any bearing on
the point under consideration.
Byron tells his wife that if she really knew the truth,
if every inmost thought of his breast were bared before
her, she would not have forsaken him.
That is true. Lady Byron might, in time, have
forgiven everything if the doctors had been able to
declare that her husband was not wholly accountable
for his actions. But when they pronounced him to be
of sound mind, and, as will be seen presently, she
subsequently convinced herself that he had committed,
and might even then be committing adultery with his
sister under her own roof, she resolved never again
to place herself in his power. If, in the early stages
of disagreement, without betraying Mary Chaworth,
it could have been avowed that Mrs. Leigh was not
the mother of Medora, Lady Byron might not have
seen in her husband's strange conduct towards her-
self ' signs of a deep remorse.' She would certainly
have been far more patient under suffering, and the
separation might have been avoided. But this avowal
was impracticable. Augusta had committed herself
too far for that, and the idle gossip of her servants
subsequently convinced Lady Byron that Byron was
the father of Augusta's child. It is clear that neither
Augusta nor Byron made any attempts to remove
those suspicions ; in fact, they acted in a manner
most certain to confirm them. Whether the secret,
which they had pledged themselves to keep, could
TV:. 286
WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
long have been withheld from Lady Byron, if matters
^ had been patched up, is doubtful. Meanwhile, as
everything depended on premat nox alta, they dared
not risk even a partial avowal of the truth.
The separation was inevitable, and in this case it
was eternal. It is hard to believe that there had ever
been any real love on either side. Under these cir-
cumstances we feel sure that any attempts at reconcilia-
tion would have ended disastrously for both. Byron's
love for Mary Chaworth was strong as death. Many
waters could not have quenched it, ' neither could the
floods drown it.' ' ■. '\^ C\^ «^.«4-0 "^
The last verses written by Byron before he left
England for ever were addressed to his sister. The
deed of separation had been signed, and Augusta
Leigh, who had stood at his side in those dark hours
when all the world had forsaken him, was about to
le^ve London.
"^
li'"^^
' When all around grew drear and dark,
And Reason half withheld her ray —
And Hope but shed a dying spark
Which more misled my lonely way ;
When Fortune changed, and Love fled far,
And Hatred's shafts flew thick and fast,
Thou wert the solitary star
Which rose, and set not to the last. *
And when the cloud upon us came
Which strove to blacken o'er thy ray —
Then purer spread its gentle flame
And dashed the darkness all away.
Still may thy Spirit dwell on mine, '^
And teach it what to brave or brook —
There's more in one soft word of thine
Than in the world's defied rebuke.
*****
Then let the ties of baffled love
Be broken — thine will never break ;
Thy heart can feel.'
-i
^
i^O
1!f it
BYRON TRUSTS AUGUSTA 287
These ingenuous words show that Byron's affection
for his sister, and his gratitude for her loyalty, were
both deep and sincere. If, as Lord Lovelace asserts,
Byron had been her lover, we know enough of his
character to be certain that he would never have
written these lines. He was not a hypocrite — far from
it — and it was foreign to his naturally combative nature
to attempt to conciliate public opinion. These lines
were written currente calamo, and are only interesting
to us on account of the light they cast upon the situa-
tion at the time of the separation. Evidently Byron
had heard a rumour of the baseless charge that was
afterwards openly made. He reminds Augusta that a
cloud threatened to darken her existence, but the bright
rays of her purity dispelled it. He hopes that even in
absence she will guide and direct him as in the past ;
and he compliments her by saying that one word from
her had more influence over him than the whole
world's censure. Although his love-episode with
Mary was over, yet so long as Augusta loves him he
will still have something to live for, as she alone can
feel for him and understand his position.
In speaking of his sister, in the third canto of
* Childe Harold,' he says :
' For there was soft Remembrance, and sweet Trust
In one fond breast, to which his own would melt.'
' And he had learned to love — I know not why,
For this in such as him seems strange of mood —
The helpless looks of blooming Infancy,
Even in its earliest nurture ; what subdued,
To change like this, a mind so far imbued
With scorn of man, it little boots to know ;
But thus it was ; and though in solitude
Small power the nipped affections have to grow,
In him this glowed when all beside had ceased to glow.'
288 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
If these words bear any significance, Byron must
mean that, since the preceding canto of 'Childe Harold'
was written, he had formed (learned to love) a strong
attachment to some child, and, in spite of absence, this
affection still glowed. That child may possibly have
been Ada, as the opening lines seem to suggest. But
this is not quite certain. According to Lord Lovelace,
Byron never saw his child after January 3, 18 16, when
the babe was only twenty-four days old. Byron him-
self states that it was not granted to him * to watch
her dawn of little joys, or hold her lightly on his knee,
and print on her soft cheek a parent's kiss.' All this,
he tells us, 'was in his nature,' but was denied to him.
His sole consolation was the hope that some day Ada
would learn to love him. On the other hand, the child
mentioned in ' Childe Harold ' had won his love by
means which ' it little boots to know.' If Byron had
alluded to his daughter Ada, there need have been no
ambiguity. Possibly the child here indicated may
have been little Medora, then three years old, with
whom he had often played, and who was then living
with that sister of 'Soft Remembrance and sweet Trust.'
If that conjecture be correct, this is the only allusion
to Medora in Byron's poetry. But she is indicated in
prose. In reference to the death of one of Moore's
children, Byron wrote (February 2, 1818) :
* I know how to feel with you, because I am quite
wrapped up in my own children. Besides my little
legitimate, I have made unto myself an illegitimate
since, to say nothing of one before ; and I look forward
to one of them as the pillar of my old age, supposing
that I ever reach, as I hope I never shall, that desolat-
ing period.'
In the one before Moore will have recognized Medora.
In spite of the * scarlet cloak and double figure,' Moore
'THE DREAM' 289
had no belief in the story that Byron became a father
while at Harrow School !
'The Dream,' which was written in July, i8i6, is
perhaps more widely known than any of Byron's
poems. Its theme is the remembrance of a hope-
less passion, which neither Time nor Reason could
extinguish. Similar notes of lamentation permeate
most of his poems, but in * The Dream ' Byron, for
the first time, takes the world into his confidence, and
tells his tale of woe with such distinctness that we
realize its truth, its passion, and its calamity. The
publication of that poem was an indiscretion which
must have been very disconcerting to his sister.
Fortunately, it had no disastrous consequences. It
apparently awakened no suspicions, and its sole effect
was to incense Mary Chaworth's husband, who, in
order to stop all prattle, caused the ' peculiar diadem
of trees ' to be cut down. In Byron's early poems we
see how deeply Mary Chaworth's marriage affected
him ; but this was known only to a small circle of
Southwell friends. In * The Dream ' we realize that
she was in fact a portion of his life, and that his own
marriage had not in the least affected his feelings
towards her. He had tried hard to forget her, but in
vain; she was his destiny. Whether Byron, when he
wrote this poem, had any idea of publishing it to
the world is not known. It may possibly have been
written to relieve his overburdened mind, and would
not have seen the light but for Lady Byron's treatment
of Mrs. Leigh on the memorable occasion when she
extracted, under promise of secrecy, the so-called
* Confession,' to which we shall allude presently. In
any case, Byron became aware of what had happened
in September, 1816. In some lines addressed to his
19
290 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
wife, he tells her that she bought others' grief at any
price, adding :
' The means were worthy, and the end is won ;
I would not do by thee as ihou hast done.'
Possibly, Byron may have thought that the publica-
tion of this poem would act as a barb, and would
wound Lady Byron's stubborn pride. Its appear-
ance in the circumstances was certainly contra bonos
mores, but we must remember that ' men in rage often
strike those who wish them best.' Whatever may
have been Byron's intention, * The Dream ' affords a
proof that Mary Chaworth was never long absent
from his thoughts. At this time, when he felt a deep
remorse for his conduct towards Mary Chaworth, he
asks himself:
' What is this Death ? a quiet of the heart ?
The whole of that of which we are a part ?
For Life is but a vision — what I see
Of all which Hves alone is Life to mc,
And being so — the absent are the dead
Who haunt us from tranquillity, and spread
A dreary shroud around us, and invest
With sad remembrancers our hours of rest.
The absent are the dead — for they are cold,
And ne'er can be what once we did behold;
And they are changed, and cheerless, — or if yet
The unforgotten do not all forget,
Since thus divided — equal must it be
If the deep barrier be of earth, or sea ;
It may be both — but one day end it must
In the dark union of insensate dust.'
It was at this time also that Byron wrote his
* Stanzas to Augusta,' which show his complete con-
fidence in her loyalty :
' Though human, thou didst not deceive me,
Though woman, thou didst not forsake,
Though loved, thou forborest to grieve me,
Though tempted, thou never couldst shake ;
'MANFRED' 291
Though trusted, thou didst not betray me,
Though parted, it was not to fly,
Though watchful, 'twas not to defame mc,
Nor, mute, that the world might belie'
Byron's remorse also found expression in * Manfred,'
where contrition is but slightly veiled by words of
mysterious import, breathed in an atmosphere of
mountains, magic, and ghost-lore. People in society,
whose ears had been poisoned by insinuations against
Mrs. Leigh, and who knew nothing of Byron's inter-
course with Mary Chaworth, came to the conclusion
that * Manfred ' revealed a criminal attachment between
Byron and his sister. Byron was aware of this, and,
conscious of his innocence, held his head in proud
defiance, and laughed his enemies to scorn. He did
not deign to defend himself; and the public — forgetful
of the maxim that where there is a sense of guilt there
is a jealousy of drawing attention to it — believed the
worst. When a critique of ' Manfred,' giving an
account of the supposed origin of the story, was sent
to Byron, he wrote to Murray :
'The conjecturer is out, and knows nothing of the
matter. I had a better origin than he can devise or
divine for the soul of him.'
That was the simple truth. The cruel allegation
against Mrs. Leigh seemed to be beneath contempt.
As Sir Egerton Brydges pointed out at the time,
Byron, being of a strong temperament, did not reply
to the injuries heaped upon him by whining com-
plaints and cowardly protestations of innocence; he
became desperate, and broke out into indignation,
sarcasm, and exposure of his opponents, in a manner
so severe as to seem inexcusably cruel to those who
did not realize the provocation. It was 'war to the
knife,' and Byron had the best of it.
19 — 2
292
WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
We propose to examine * Manfred ' closely, to see
whether Astarte in any degree resembles the descrip-
tion which Lord Lovelace has given of Augusta Leigh.
Manfred tells us that his slumbers are ' a continuance
of enduring thought,' since that 'all-nameless hour'
when he committed the crime for which he suffers.
He asks ' Forgetfulness of that which is within him —
a crime which he cannot utter.' When told by the
Seven Spirits that he cannot have self-oblivion, Man-
fred asks if Death would give it to him ; and receives
* the sad reply that, being immortal, the spirit after
death cannot forget the past.
Eventually the Seventh Spirit — typifying, possibly,
a Magdalen — appears before Manfred, in the shape of
a beautiful woman.
' Manfred. Oh God ! if it be thus, and thou
Art not a madness and a mockery,
I yet might be most happy.'
When the figure vanishes, Manfred falls senseless.
In the second act, Manfred, in reply to the chamois-
^- hunter, who offers him a cup of wine, says :
r
*v
:i
' Away, away ! there's blood upon the brim !
Will it then never — never sink in the earth ?
'Tis blood — my blood ! the pure warm stream
Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours
When we were in our youth, and had one heart,
And loved each other as we should not love,
And tliis was shed : but still it rises up.
Colouring the clouds that shut me out from Heaven.'
One may well wonder what all this has to do with
Augusta. The blood that ran in Byron's veins also
ran in the veins of Mary Chaworth, and that blood, ^
shed by Byron's kinsman, had caused a feud, which
was not broken until Byron came upon the scene, and
fell hopelessly in love with ' the last of a time-honoured
'THE DUEL' 293
race.' Byron from his boyhood always believed that
there was a blood-curse upon him.
When, two years later, he wrote * The Duel '
(December, 1818), he again alludes to the subject :
' I loved thee — I will not say how, ' '^SaJL OM*'*^ t^'-vC^j
Since things like these are best forgot : J^,^ ^jUA^jr.%. ^
Perhaps thou mayst imagine now ' '
Who loved thee and who loved thee not.
And thou wert wedded to another,
And I at last another wedded :
I am a father, thou a mother,
To strangers vowed, with strangers bedded.
' Many a bar, and many a feud.
Though never told, well understood.
Rolled like a river wide between —
And then there -d'as the curse of blood,
Which even my Heart's can not remove.
*****
' I've seen the sword that slew him ; he,
The slain, stood in a like degree
To thee, as he, the Slayer stood
(Oh, had it been but other blood !)
In Kin and Chieftainship to me.
Thus came the Heritage to thee.'
Clearly, then, the Spirit, which appeared to Manfred
in the form of a beautiful female figure, was Mary
Chaworth; the crime for which he suffered was his
conduct towards her; and the blood, which his fancy
beheld on the cup's brim, was the blood of William
Chaworth, which his predecessor. Lord Byron, had
shed. When asked by the chamois-hunter whether
he had wreaked revenge upon his enemies, Manfred
replies :
' No, no, no !
My injuries came down on those who loved me —
On those whom I best loved : I never quelled
An enemy, save in my just defence —
But my embrace was fatal.'
294 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
In speaking of the * core of his heart's grief/ Manfred
says :
' Yet there was One —
She was Hke me in lineaments — her eyes —
Her hair — her features — all, to the very tone
Even of her voice, they said were like to mine ;
But softened all, and tempered into beauty :
She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings,*
The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind
To comprehend the Universe : nor these
Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine,
Pity, and smiles, and tears — which I had not ;
And tenderness — but that I had for her ;
Humility — and that I never had.
Her faults were mine — her virtues were her own —
I loved her, and destroyed her !
Not with my hand, but heart, which broke her heart j
It gazed on mine, and withered.'
In order to appreciate the absurdity of connecting
this description with Augusta, we will quote her noble
accuser, Lord Lovelace :
'The character of Augusta is seen in her letters and
actions. She was a woman of that great family which
is vague about facts, unconscious of duties, impulsive
in conduct. The course of her life could not be other-
wise explained, by those who had looked into it with
close intimacy, than by a kind of moral idiotcy from
birth. She was of a sanguine and buoyant disposition,
childishly fond and playful, ready to laugh at anything,
loving to talk nonsense.'
In fact,
' She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings,
The quest of liiddcn knowledge, and a mind
To comprehend the Universe.'
Lord Lovelace further tells us that Augusta Leigh
'had a refined species of comic talent'; that she was
* See the poem ' Remember Him ' : ' Thy soul from long seclusion
pure.'
'MANFRED' 295
' strangely insensible to the nature and magnitude of
the offence in question [incest] even as an imputation ;'
and that ' there was apparently an absence of all deep
feeling in her mind, of everything on which a strong
impression could be made.' We are also told that
* Byron, after his marriage, generally spoke of Augusta
as "a fool," with equal contempt of her understanding
and principles.'
In short, Byron's description of the woman, whom
he had * destroyed,' resembles Augusta Leigh about as
much as a mountain resembles a haystack. How closely
Manfred's description resembles Mary Chaworth will
be seen presently. Augusta Leigh had told Byron
that, in consequence of his conduct, Mary Chaworth
was out of her mind.
Manfred says that if he had never lived, that which
he loved had still been living :
' . . . Had I never loved,
That which I love would still be beautiful,
Happy, and giving happiness. What is she ?
What is she now? A sufferer for my sins —
A thing I dare not think upon — or nothing.'
When Nemesis asks Manfred whom he would ' un-
charnel,' he replies :
' One without a tomb —
Call up Astarte.'
The name, of course, suggests a star. As we have
seen, Byron often employed that metaphor in allusion
to Mary Chaworth.
When the phantom of Astarte rises, Manfred ex-
claims :
' Can this be death ? there's bloom upon her cheek ;
But now I see it is no living hue,
But a strange hectic'
296 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
He is afraid to look upon her ; he cannot speak to
her, and implores Nemesis to intercede :
' Bid her speak —
Forgive me, or condemn me.'
Nemesis tells him that she has no authority over
Astarte :
' She is not of our order, but belongs
To the other powers.'*
The fine appeal of Manfred cannot have been
addressed by Byron to his sister :
' Hear me, hear me —
Astarte ! my beloved ! speak to me :
I have so much endured — so much endure —
Look on me ! the grave hath not changed thee more
Than I am changed for thee. Thou lovedst me
Too much, as I loved thee : we were not made
To torture thus each other — though it were
The deadliest sin to love as we have loved.
Say that thou loath'st me not — that I do bear
This punishment for both — that thou wilt be
One of the blessed — and that I shall die.
*****
' I cannot rest.
I know not what I ask, nor what I seek :
I feel but what thou art, and what I am;
And I would hear yet once before I perish
The voice which was my music f — speak to me !
*****
Speak to me ! I have wandered o'er the earth,
And never found thy likeness.'
When Manfred implores Astarte to forgive him,
she is silent. It is not a matter for forgiveness. He
entreats her to speak to him, so that he may once
more hear that sweet voice, even though it be for
* ' Ophelia. O heavenly powers, restore him !'
Hamlet, Act III., Scene i.
f ' The song, celestial from thy voice,
Rut sweet to me from none but thine.'
Poetry of Byron, vol. iv. : 'To Thyrza.'
m.^
' LAMENT OF TASSO ' 297
the last time. The silence is broken by the word
' Farewell !' Manfred, whose doom is sealed, cries in
agony :
' What I have done is done ; I bear within
A torture which could nothing gain (from others).
The Mind, which is immortal, makes itself
Requital for its good or evil thoughts, —
Is its own origin of ill and end —
And its own place and time :
I was my own destroyer, and will be
My own hereafter. . . .
The hand of Death is on me. . . .
All things swim around me, and the Earth
Heaves, as it were, beneath me. Fare thee well !'
So far as we know, there is nothing in the whole
length of this poem to suggest anything abnormal ;
and it is hard to understand what resemblance Byron's
contemporaries could have discovered between the
Astarte of * Manfred ' and Augusta Leigh ! Enough
has been quoted to show that Byron was not thinking
of his sister when he wrote * Manfred,' but of her
whose life he had blasted, and whose ' sacred name '
he trembled to reveal.
In April, 181 7, Byron was informed by Mrs. Leigh
that Mary Chaworth and her husband had made up
their differences. The ' Lament of Tasso ' was written
in that month, and Byron's thoughts were occupied, as
usual, with the theme of all his misery.
' That thou wert beautiful, and I not blind,
Hath been the sin that shuts me from mankind ;
But let them go, or torture as they will,
My heart can multiply thine image still ;
Successful Love may sate itself away ;
The wretched are the faithful ; 'tis their fate
To have all feehng, save the one, decay.
And every passion into one dilate,
As rapid rivers into Ocean pour ;
But ours is fathomless, and hath no shore.'
298 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
In 'Mazeppa' Byron tells how he met 'Theresa' in
that month of June, and how * through his brain the
thought did pass that there was something in her air
which would not doom him to despair.' This incident
is again referred to in ' Don Juan.' The Count Palatine
is, probably, intended as a sketch of Mary's husband.
'The Duel,' which was written in December, 1818,
is addressed to Mary Chaworth :
' I loved thee — I will not say how,
Since things like these are best forgot.'
Byron alludes to * the curse of blood,' with, ' many
a bar and many a feud,' which ' rolled like a wide river
between them ' :
' Alas I how many things have been
Since we were friends ; for I alone
Feel more for thee than can be shown.'
In the so-called 'Stanzas to the Po,' we find the
same prolonged note of suffering. Writing to Murray
(May 8, 1820), Byron says :
' I sent a copy of verses to Mr. Kinnaird (they were
written last year on crossing the Po) which must not
be published. Pray recollect this, as they were mere
verses of society, and written from private feelings
and passions.'
In view of the secrecy which Byron consistently
observed, respecting his later intimacy with Mary
Chaworth, the publication of these verses would have
been highly indiscreet. They were written in June,
1819, after Mary had for some time been reconciled
to her husband. She was then living with him at
Colwick Hall, near Nottingham.
Ostensibly these stanzas form an apostrophe to the
River Po, and the ' lady of the land ' was, of course, the
Guiccioli. Medwin, to whom Byron gave the poem,
STANZAS TO THE PC 299
believed that the river apostrophized by the poet was
the River Po, whose ' deep and ample stream ' was ' the
mirror of his heart.' But it seems perfectly clear that, '
if this poem referred only to the Countess Guiccioli,
there could have been no objection to its publication "~p^o £^
in England, The reading public in those days knew '.
nothing of Byron's liaisons abroad, and his mystic
allusion to foreign rivers and foreign ladies would
have left the British public cold.
^ A scrutiny of these perplexing stanzas suggests
that they were adapted, from a fragment written in
early life, to meet the conditions of 18 19. Evidently
Mary Chaworth was once more ' the ocean to the river
of his thoughts,' and the stream indicated in the
opening stanza was not the Po, but the River Trent,
which flows close to the ancient walls of Colwick,
where * the lady of his love ' was then residing. To j
assist the reader, we insert the poem, having merely
transposed three stanzas to make its purport clearer
' River, that rollest by the ancient walls,
Where dwells the Lady of my love, when she
Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls
A faint and fleeting memory of me :
II.
' She will look on thee — I have looked 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 !
III.
' But that which keepeth us apart is not
Distance, nor depth of wave, nor space of earth,
But the distraction of a various lot,
As various as the climates of our birth.
Wt^-N.
300 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
IV.
' What if thy deep and ample stream should be
A mirror of my heart, where she may read
The thousand thoughts / now betray to thee,
Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed !
V.
' 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.
VI.
' Time may have somewhat tamed them — not for ever;
Thou overflowest thy banks, and not for aye
Thy bosom overboils, congenial river !
Thy floods subside, and mine have sunk away :
VII.
' But left long wrecks behind, and now again.
Borne on our old unchanged career, we move :
Thou tendest wildly onwards to the main,
And I, — to loving one I should not love.
VIII.
' My blood is all meridian ; were it not,
I had not left my clime, nor should I be.
In spite of tortures, ne'er to be forgot,
A slave again to Love — at least of thee.
IX.
' 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, unharmed by summer's heat.
X.
' 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 !
* ' Siede la terra, dove nata fui,
Su la marina dove il Po discende.'
Inferno, Canto V,, 97, 98.
STANZAS TO THE PO' 301
XI.
' The wave that bears my tears returns no more :
Will she return by whom that wave shall sweep ?■■
Both tread thy banks, both wander on thy shore,
I near thy source, she by the dark-blue deep.*
XII.
' A stranger loves the Lady of the land,
Born far beyond the mountains, but his blood
Is all meridian, as if never fanned
By the bleak wind that chills the polar flood.
' '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.'
In the first stanza, Byron says that when his lady-
love walks by the river's brink ' she may perchance
recall a faint and fleeting memory' of him. Those
words, which might have been applicable to Mary
Chaworth, whom he had not seen for at least three
years, could not possibly refer to a woman from whom
he had been parted but two short months, and with
whom he had since been in constant correspondence.
Only a few days before these verses were written,
Countess Guiccioli had told him by letter that she had
prepared all her relatives and friends to expect him at
Ravenna. There must surely have been something
more than 'a faint and fleeting' memory of Byron
in the mind of the ardent Guiccioli. In the second
* Although not near the source of the Po itself, Byron, at Ferrara,
was not very far from the point where the Po di Primaro breaks
away from the Po, and, becoming an independent river, flows into
the dark blue Adriatic, about midway between Coraachio and
Ravenna.
/
302 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
stanza, Byron, in allusion to the river he had in his
thoughts, says :
' She will look on thee — 1 have looked on thee, full of
that thought : mid from that 7iwnient ne'er thy waters
could I dream of, name, or see, without the inseparable
sigh for her.'
Now, while there was nothing whatever to connect
the River Po with tender recollections, there was
Byron's association in childhood with the River Trent,
a memory inseparable from his boyish love for Mary
Chaworth.
' But in his native stream, the Guadalquivir,
Juan to lave his youthful limbs was wont ;
And having learnt to swim in that sweet river
Had often turned the art to some account,'
In the fourth stanza we perceive that the poet, while
thinking of the Trent, 'betrays his thoughts' to the
Po, a river as wild and as swift as his native stream.
The ninth stanza has puzzled commentators ex-
ceedingly. It has been pointed out that the River Po
does not sweep beneath the walls of Ravenna. That
is, of course, indisputable. But Byron, in all proba-
bility, did not then know the exact course of that
river, and blindly followed Dante's geographical de-
scription, and almost used his very words :
* Siede la terra, dove iiafa fiii,
Su la marina dove il Po discende,
Per aver pace co' seguaci sui.'
It is, of course, well known that the Po branches off
into two streams to the north-west of Ferrara, and
flows both northward and southward of that city.
The southern portion — the Po di Primaro — is fed by
four affluents — the Rheno, the Savena, the Santerno,
and the Lamone — and flows into the Adriatic south
'THE EPISODE OF FRANCESCA' 303
of Comachio, about midway between that place and
Ravenna. It was obviously to the Po di Primaro that
Dante referred when he wrote seguaci sui.
Unless Francesca was born close to the mouth ol
the Po, which is not impossible, Byron erred in good
company. In any case, we may fairly plead poetic
licence. That Byron crossed the Po di Primaro as
well as the main river admits of no doubt.
In the eleventh stanza Byron is wondering what
will be the result of his journey ? Will the Guiccioli
return to him ? Will all be well with the lovers, or
will he return to Venice alone ? In his fancy they
are both wandering on the banks of that river. He is
near its source, where the Po di Primaro branches ofif
near Pontelagascuro, while she was on the shore of
the Adriatic.
The twelfth stanza would perhaps have been clearer
if the first and second lines had been,
' A stranger, born far beyond the mountains,
Loves the Lady of the land,'
which was Byron's meaning. The poet excuses him-
self for his fickleness on the plea that ' his blood is
all meridian' — in short, that he cannot help loving
someone. But we plainly see that his love for Mary
Chaworth was still paramount. ' In spite of tortures
ne'er to be forgot ' — tortures of which we had a glimpse
in ' Manfred ' — he was still her slave. Finally, Byron
tells us that it was useless to struggle against the
misery his heart endured, and that all his hopes were
centred on an early death.
The episode of Francesca and Paolo had made a
deep impression on Byron. He likened it to his
unfortunate adventure with Mary Chaworth in June
and July, 1813. In ' The Corsair' — written after their
304 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
intimacy had been broken off — Byron prefixes to each
canto a motto from * The Inferno ' which seemed to be
appropriate to his own case. In the first canto we
find:
' Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria.'
In the second canto :
' Conoscesti i dubbiosi desire ?'
In the third canto :
' Come vedi — ancor non m' abbandona.'
That Byron had Francesca in his mind when he
wrote the stanzas to the Po seems likely ; and in the
letter which he wrote to Mary from Venice, in the
previous month, he compares their misfortunes with
those of Paolo and Francesca in plain words.*
* Don Juan ' was begun in the autumn of 1818. That
poem, Byron tells us, was inspired almost entirely by
his own personal experience. Perhaps he drew a
portrait of Mary Chaworth when he described Julia :
' And she
Was married, charming, chaste, and twenty-three.'
When they parted in 1809, that was exactly Mary's
age.
' Her eye was large and dark, suppressing half its
fire until she spoke. Her glossy hair was clustered
over a brow bright with intelligence. Her cheek was
purple with the beam of youth, mounting at times to a
transparent glow; and she had an uncommon grace of
manner. She was tall of stature. Her husband was
a good-looking man, neither much loved nor disliked.
He was of a jealous nature, though he did not show it.
* Shortly afterwards he translated 'The Episode of Francesca,'
line for line, into English verse.
•ELLE VOUS SUIT PARTOUT* 305
They lived together, as most people do, suffering each
other's foibles.'
On a summer's eve in the month of June, Juan and
Julia met :
' How beautiful she looked ! her conscious heart
Glowed in her cheek, and yet she felt no wrong.'
For her husband she had honour, virtue, truth, and
love. The sun had set, and the yellow moon arose
high in the heavens :
' There is a dangerous silence in that hour,
A stillness which leaves room for the full soul.'
Several weeks had passed away :
' Julia, in fact, had tolerable grounds, —
Alfonso's loves with Inez were well known.'
Then came the parting note :
' They tell me 'tis decided you depart :
'Tis wise — 'tis well, but not the less a pain ;
I have no further claim on your young heart,
Mine is the victim, and would be again :
To love too much has been the only art
I used.'
Julia tells Juan that she loved him, and still loves
him tenderly :
' I loved, I love you, for this love have lost
State, station, Heaven, mankind's, my own esteem,
And yet cannot regret what it hath cost,
So dear is still the memory of that dream.'
' All is o'er
For me on earth, except some years to hide
My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core.'
The seal to this letter was a sunflower — Elle vous
suit partout. It may be mentioned here that Byron
had a seal bearing this motto.
20
3o6 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
When Juan realized that the parting was final, he
exclaims :
' No more — no more — oh ! never more, my heart,
Canst thou be my sole world, my universe !
Once all in all, but now a thing apart,
Thou canst not be my blessing or my curse :
The illusion's gone for ever.'
In the third canto we have a hint of Byron's feelings
after his wife had left him :
' He entered in the house no more his home,
A thing to human feelings the most trying,
And harder for the heart to overcome,
Perhaps, than even the mental pangs of dying ;
To find our hearthstone turned into a tomb,
And round its once warm precincts palely lying
The ashes of our hopes.'
* But whatsoe'er he had of love reposed
On that beloved daughter ; she had been
The only thing which kept his heart unclosed
Amidst the savage deeds he had done and seen,
A lonely pure affection unopposed :
There wanted but the loss of this to wean
His feelings from all milk of human kindness,
And turn him like the Cyclops mad with blindness.'
In the fourth canto we are introduced to Haidee,
who resembled Lambro in features and stature, even to
the delicacy of their hands. We are told that owing
to the violence of emotion and the agitation of her
mind she broke a bloodvessel, and lay unconscious on
her couch for days. Like Astarte in ' Manfred,' ' her
blood was shed : I saw, but could not stanch it ':
' She looked on many a face with vacant eye.
On many a token without knowing what :
She saw them watch her without asking why,
And recked not who around her pillow sat.
:|s 4= 4= ^ H<
DON JUAN 307
' Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall
In time to the harper's tune : he changed the theme
And sang of Love ; the fierce name struck through all
Her recollection; on her flashed the dream
Of what she was, and is, if ye could call
To be so being ; in a gushing stream
The tears rushed forth from her o'erclouded brain,
Like mountain mists at length dissolved in rain.'
' Short solace, vain relief ! Thought came too quick,
And whirled her brain to madness.'
' She died, but not alone ; she held within,
A second principle of Life, which might
Have dawned a fair and sinless child of sin ;
But closed its little being without light.'
' Thus lived — thus died she ; never more on her
Shall Sorrow light, or Shame.'
In the fifth canto, written in 1820, after the 'Stanzas
to the Po,' we find Byron once more in a confidential
mood :
' I have a passion for the name of " Mary,"
For once it was a magic sound to me ;
And still it half calls up the realms of Fairy,
Where I beheld what never was to be ;
All feelings changed, but this was last to vary
A spell from which even yet I am not quite free.'
And there is a sigh for Mary Chaworth in the follow-
ing lines :
' 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 those pure feelings, gone for ever.
'Twas the boy's mite, and like the widow's may
Perhaps be weighed hereafter, if not now ;
But whether such things do or do not weigh,
All who have loved, or love, will still allow
Life has naught hke it.'
Early in 1823, little more than a year before his
death, Byron refers to 'the fair most fatal Juan ever
20 — 2
3o8 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
met.' Under the name of the Lady Adeline, this most
fatal fair one is introduced to the reader :
' Although she was not evil nor meant ill,
Both Destiny and Passion spread the net
And caught them,'
' Chaste she was, to Detraction's desperation,
And wedded unto one she had loved well.'
' The World could tell
Nought against either, and both seemed secure —
She in her virtue, he in his hauteur.'
Here we have a minute description of Newstead
Abbey, the home of the 'noble pair,' where Juan came
as a visitor :
' What I throw off is ideal —
Lowered, leavened, like a history of Freemasons,
Which bears the same relation to the real
As Captain Parry's Voyage may do to Jason's.
The grand Arcanum's not for men to see all ;
My music has some mystic diapasons ;
And there is much which could not be appreciated
In any manner by the uninitiated.'
Adeline, we are told, came out at sixteen :
' At eighteen, though below her feet still panted
A Hecatomb of suitors with devotion,
She had consented to create again
That Adam called " The happiest of Men." '
It will be remembered that when Mary Chaworth
married she was exactly eighteen. Her husband was:
* Tall, stately, formed to lead the courtly van
On birthdays. The model of a chamberlain.'
' But there was something wanting on the whole —
I don't know what, and therefore cannot tell —
Which pretty women — the sweet souls ! — call Soul.
Certes it was not body ; he was well
Proportioned, as a poplar or a pole,
A handsome man.'
DON JUAN 309
This description would answer equally well for
' handsome Jack Musters,' who married Mary Cha-
worth. Adeline, we are told, took Juan in hand when
she was about seven-and-twenty. That was Mary's
age in 1813. But this may have been a mere coin-
cidence.
'She had one defect,' says Byron, in speaking of
Adeline : ' her heart was vacant. Her conduct had
been perfectly correct. She loved her lord, or thought
so ; but that love cost her an effort. She had nothing
to complain of — no bickerings, no connubial turmoil.
Their union was a model to behold — serene and noble,
conjugal, but cold. There was no great disparity in
years, though much in temper. But they never
clashed. They moved, so to speak, apart.'
Now, when once Adeline had taken an interest in
anything, her impressions grew, and gathered as they
ran, like growing water, upon her mind. The more
so, perhaps, because she was not at first too readily
impressed. She did not know her own heart :
' I think not she was then in love with Juan :
If so, she would have had the strength to fly
The wild sensation, unto her a new one :
She merely felt a common sympathy
In him.'
' She was, or thought she was, his friend— and this
Without the farce of Friendship, or romance
Of Platonism.'
* Few of the soft sex,' says Byron, ' are very stable
in their resolves.' She had heard some parts of Juan's
history ; * but women hear with more good humour
such aberrations than we men of rigour ':
' Adeline, in all her growing sense
Of Juan's merits and his situation,
Felt on the whole an interest intense —
Partly perhaps because a fresh sensation,
3IO WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
Or that he had an air of innocence,
Which is for Innocence a sad temptation —
As Women hate half-measures, on the whole.
She 'gan to ponder how to save his soul.'
After a deal of thought, * she seriously advised him
to get married.'
' There was Miss Millpond, smooth as summer's sea,
That usual paragon, an only daughter,
Who seemed the cream of Equanimity,
Till skimmed — and then there was some milk and water,
With a slight shade of blue too, it might be
Beneath the surface.'
The mention of Aurora Rab}'', to whom Juan in the
first instance proposed, and by whom he was refused,
suggests an incident in his life which is well known.
Aurora was very young, and knew but little of the
world's ways. In her indifference she confounded
him with the crowd of flatterers by whom she was
surrounded. Her mind appears to have been of a
serious caste ; with poetic vision she ' saw worlds
beyond this world's perplexing waste,' and
* those worlds
Had more of her existence ; for in her
There was a depth of feeling to embrace
Thoughts, boundless, deep, but silent too as Space.'
She had * a pure and placid mien '; her colour was
'never high,'
' Though sometimes faintly flushed — and always clear
As deep seas in a sunny atmosphere.'
We cannot be positive, but perhaps Byron had
Aurora Raby in his mind when he wrote :
' I've seen some balls and revels in my time,
And stayed them over for some silly reason,
And then I looked (I hope it was no crime)
To see what lady best stood out the season ;
MISS MERCER ELPHINSTONE 311
And though I've seen some thousands in their prime
Lovely and pleasing, and who still may please on,
I never saw but one (the stars withdrawn)
Whose bloom could after dancing dare the Dawn.' *
Perhaps Aurora Raby may have been drawn from
his recollection of Miss Mercer Elphinstone, who
afterwards married Auguste Charles Joseph, Comte de
Flahaut de la Billarderie, one of Napoleon's Aides-de-
Camp, then an exile in England. This young lady
was particularly gracious to Byron at Lady Jersey's
party, when others gave him a cold reception. We
wonder how matters would have shaped themselves
if she had accepted the proposal of marriage which
Byron made to her in 1814! But it was not to be.
That charming woman passed out of his orbit, and as
he waited upon the shore, gazing at the dim outline
of the coast of France, the curtain fell upon the first
phase of Byron's existence. The Pilgrim of Eternity
stood on the threshold of a new life :
' Between two worlds life hovers like a star,
'Twixt Night and Morn, upon the horizon's verge.
How little do we know that which \vc are !
How less what we may be ! The eternal surge
Of Time and Tide rolls on and bears afar
Our bubbles ; as the old burst, new emerge,
Lashed from the foam of Ages.'
And after eight years of exile, in his * Last Words
on Greece,' written in those closing days at Misso-
longhi, with the shadow of Death upon him, his mind
reverts to one whom, in 1816, he had called 'Soul of
my thought ' :
' What are to me those honours or renown
Past or to come, a new-born people's cry ?
Albeit for such I could despise a crown
Of aught save laurel, or for such could die.
* ' Beppo,' stanza 8"?.
312 WHAT THE POEMS REVEAL
I am a fool of passion, and a frown
Of thine to me is as an adder's eye —
To the poor bird whose pinion fluttering down
Wafts unto death the breast it bore so high —
Such is this maddening fascination grown,
So strong thy magic or so weak am I '
' The flowers and fruits of Love are gone ; the worm.
The canker, and the grief, are mine alone !'
U<.
'\
I
PART III
'ASTARTE'
' The evil that men do lives after them ;
The good is oft interred with their bones.'
Shakespeare : Julius Cctsar.
CHAPTER I
From the moment when Lord Byron left England
until the hour of his death, the question of his separa-
tion from his wife was never long out of his thoughts.
He was remarkably communicative on the subject, and
spoke of it constantly, not only to Madame de Stael,
Hobhouse, Lady Blessington, and Trelawny, but, as
we have seen, even in casual conversation with com-
parative strangers. There is no doubt that he felt
himself aggrieved, and bitterly resented a verdict which
he knew to be unjust. In a pamphlet which was sub-
sequently suppressed, written while he was at Ravenna,
Byron sums up his own case. In justice to one who
can no longer plead his own cause, we feel bound to
transcribe a portion of his reply to strictures on his
matrimonial conduct, which appeared in Blackwood's
Magazine :
' The man who is exiled by a faction has the conso-
lation of thinking that he is a martyr; he is upheld by
hope and the dignity of his cause, real or imaginary :
he who withdraws from the pressure of debt may
indulge in the thought that time and prudence will
retrieve his circumstances : he who is condemned by
the law has a term to his banishment, or a dream of
its abbreviation ; or, it may be, the knowledge or the
belief of some injustice of the law, or of its administra-
tion in his own particular : but he who is outlawed by
general opinion, without the intervention of hostile
315
3i6 'ASTARTE'
politics, illegal judgment, or embarrassed circum-
stances, whether he be innocent or guilty, must
undergo all the bitterness of exile, without hope,
without pride, without alleviation. This case was
mine. Upon what grounds the public founded their
opinion, I am not aware ; but it was general, and it
was decisive. Of me or of mine they knew little,
except that I had written what is called poetry, was
a nobleman, had married, become a father, and was
involved in differences with my wife and her relatives,
no one knew why, because the persons complaining
refused to state their grievances. The fashionable
world was divided into parties, mine consisting of
a very small minority : the reasonable world was
naturally on the stronger side, which happened to
be the lady's, as was most proper and polite. The
press was active and scurrilous ; and such was the
rage of the day, that the unfortunate publication of
two copies of verses, rather complimentary than other-
wise to the subjects of both, was tortured into a species
of crime, or constructive petty treason. I was accused
of every monstrous vice by public rumour and private
rancour ; my name, which had been a knightly or a
noble one since my fathers helped to conquer the
kingdom for William the Norman, was tainted. I
felt that, if what was whispered, and muttered, and
murmured, was true, I was unfit for England ; if false,
England was unfit for me. I withdrew ; but this was
not enough. In other countries, in Switzerland, in
the shadow of the Alps, and by the blue depths of the
lakes, I was pursued and breathed upon by the same
blight. I crossed the mountains, but it was the same :
so I went a little farther, and settled myself by the
waves of the Adriatic, like the stag at bay, who betakes
him to the waters. ... I have heard of, and believe,
that there are human beings so constituted as to be
insensible to injuries ; but 1 believe that the best mode
to avoid taking vengeance is to get out of the way of
temptation. I do not in this allude to the party, who
might be right or wrong; but to many who made her
cause the pretext of their own bitterness. She, indeed,
must have long avenged me in her own feelings, for
whatever her reasons may have been (and she never
adduced them, to me at least), she probably neither
LADY CAROLINE LAMB 317
contemplated nor conceived to what she became the
means of conducting the father of her child, and the
husband of her choice.'
Byron knew of the charge that had been whispered
against his sister and himself, and, knowing it to be
false, it stung him to the heart. And yet he dared not
speak, because a solution of the mystery that sur-
rounded the separation from his wife would have
involved the betrayal of one whom he designated as
the soul of his thousfht :
*&'
' Invisible but gazing, as I glow
Mixed with thy spirit, blended with thy birth,
And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings dearth.'
Augusta Leigh, the selfless martyr, the most loyal
friend that Byron ever possessed, his * tower of strength
in the hour of need,' assisted her brother, so to speak,
to place the pack on a false scent, and the whole field
blindly followed. There never was a nobler example
of self-immolation than that of the sister who bravely
endured the odium of a scandal in which she had no
part. For Byron's sake she was content to suffer
intensely during her lifetime ; and after she had ceased
to feel, her name was branded by Lady Byron and
her descendants with the mark of infamy.
A curious feature in the case is that, with few excep-
tions, those who knew Byron and Mrs. Leigh inti-
mately came gradually to accept the story which Lady
Caroline Lamb had insidiously whispered, a libel
which flourished exceedingly in the noxious vapours of
a scandal-loving age. As Nature is said to abhor a
vacuum, so falsehood rushed in to fill the void which
silence caused.
It is with a deep searching of heart and with great
reluctance that we re-open this painful subject.
3i8 'ASTARTE'
The entire responsibility must rest with the late
Lord Lovelace, whose loud accusation against Byron's
devoted sister deprives us of any choice in the matter.
In order to understand the full absurdity of the
accusation brought against Augusta Leigh, we have
but to contrast the evidence brought against her in
' Astarte ' with allusions to her in Byron's poems, and
with the esteem in which she was held by men and
women well known in society at the time of the
separation.
Lord Stanhope, the historian, in a private letter
written at the time of the Beecher Stowe scandals,
says:
* I was very well acquainted with Mrs. Leigh about
forty years ago, and used to call upon her at St.
James's Palace to hear her speak about Lord Byron,
as she was very fond of doing. That fact itself is
a presumption against what is alleged, since, on such
a supposition, the subject would surely be felt as
painful and avoided. She was extremely unpre-
possessing in her person and appearance — more like a
nun than anything — and never can have had the least
pretension to beauty. I thought her shy and sensitive
to a fault in her mind and character, and, from what I
saw and knew of her, I hold her to have been utterly
incapable of such a crime as Mrs. Beecher Stowe is so
unwarrantably seeking to cast upon her memory.'
Frances, Lady Shelley, a woman of large experience,
penetration, and sagacity, whose husband was a
personal friend of the Prince Regent, stated in a letter
to the Times that Mrs. Leigh was like a mother to
Byron, and when she knew her intimately — at the
time of the separation — was * not at all an attractive
person.' Her husband was very fond of her, and had
a high opinion of her.
These impressions are confirmed by all those friends
AUGUSTA LEIGH 319
and acquaintances of Mrs. Leigh who were still living
in 1869.
In 1 8 16 Augusta Leigh was a married woman of
thirty-two years of age, and the mother of four
children. She had long been attached to the Court,
moved in good society, and was much liked by
those who knew her intimately. Since her marriage
in 1807 she had been more of a mother than a sister
to Byron, and her affection for him was deep and
sincere. She made allowances for his frailties, bore
his uncertain temper with patience, and was never
afraid of giving him good advice. In June, 18 13, she
tried to save him from the catastrophe which she
foresaw ; and having failed, she made the supreme
sacrifice of her life, by adopting his natural child, thus
saving the reputation of a woman whom her brother
sincerely loved. Henceforward, under suspicions
which must have been galling to her pride, she faced
the world's ' speechless obloquy,' heedless of conse-
quences. In the after-years, when great trouble fell
upon her through the misconduct of that adopted child,
she bore her sorrows in silence. Among those who
were connected with Byron's life, Hobhouse, Hodgson,
and Harness — three men of unimpeachable character —
respected and admired her to the last.
Such, then, was the woman who was persecuted
during her lifetime and slandered in her grave. Her
traducers at first whispered, and afterwards openly
stated, not only that she had committed incest with
her brother, but that she had employed her influence
over him to make a reconciliation with his wife im-
possible.
If that were so, it is simply inconceivable that
Hobhouse should have remained her lifelong friend.
320 ' ASTARTE '
His character is well known. Not only his public
but much of his private life is an open book. As a
gentleman and a man of honour he was above sus-
picion. From his long and close intimacy with Byron,
there were but few secrets between them ; and Hob-
house undoubtedly knew the whole truth of the
matter between Byron and his sister. He was Byron's
most trusted friend during life, and executor at his
death.
It has never been disputed that, at the time of the
separation, Hobhouse demanded from Lady Byron's
representative a formal disavowal of that monstrous
charge ; otherwise the whole matter would be taken
into a court of law. He would allow no equivocation.
The charge must either be withdrawn, then and there,
or substantiated in open court. When Lady Byron,
through her representative, unreservedly disavowed
the imputation, Byron was satisfied, and consented to
sign the deed of separation.
Six months after Byron left England, Hobhouse
visited him in Switzerland ; and on September 9,
1 8 16, he wrote as follows to Augusta Leigh :
' It would be a great injustice to suppose that [Byron]
has dismissed the subject from his thoughts, or indeed
from his conversation, upon any other motive than that
which the most bitter of his enemies would commend.
The uniformly tranquil and guarded manner shows
the effect which it is meant to hide. ... I trust the
news from your Lowestoft correspondent [Lady Byron]
will not be so bad as it was when I last saw you.
Pardon me, dear Mrs. Leigh, if I venture to advise the
strictest confinement to very common topics in all you
say in that quarter. Repay kindness in any other way
than by confidence. I say this, not in reference to the
lady's character, but as a maxim to serve for all cases.
* Ever most faithfully yours,
'J. C. Hobhouse.'
I
MRS. LEIGH CROSS-EXAMINED 321
This letter shows, not only that the writer was
firmly convinced of Mrs. Leigh's innocence, but that
he was afraid lest Lady Byron would worm the real
secret out of Byron's sister, by appealing, through
acts of kindness, to her sense of gratitude. He knew
that Mrs. Leigh had a very difficult part to perform.
Her loyalty to Byron and Mary Chaworth had already
borne a severe test, and he wished her to realize how
much depended on her discretion.
The task of keeping in touch with Lady Byron,
without dispelling her illusions, was so trying to
Augusta Leigh's naturally frank nature as almost
to drive her to despair. Lady Byron, knowing that
Byron was in constant correspondence with his sister,
asked permission to read his letters, and it was difficult,
without plausible excuse, to withhold them. Byron's
correspondence was never characterized by reticence.
He invariably unburdened his mind, heedless of the
effect which his words might have upon those to whom
his letters were shown. In these circumstances Mrs.
Leigh was kept in a fever of apprehension as to what
Lady Byron might glean, even from the winnowed
portions which, from time to time, were submitted for
her perusal.
It has since transpired that, without Augusta's know-
ledge, Lady Byron kept a copy of everything that was
shown to her.
It appears from ' Astarte ' that, in the early part of
September, 18 16, Augusta Leigh underwent a rigorous
cross-examination — not only from Lady Byron, but
from inquisitive acquaintances, who were determined
to extract from her replies proofs of her guilt.
Lord Lovelace, on Lady Byron's authority, states
that between August 31 and September 14 (the precise
21
322 'ASTARTE'
date is not given) Augusta confessed to Lady Byron
that she had committed incest with her hrother previoi^is
to his marriage. This strange admission, which we
are told had been long expected, seems to have com-
^j^^ r^ pletely satisfied Lady Byron. After having promised
' ^ to keep her secret inviolate^ she wrote to several of her
' ^ friends, and told them that Augusta had made 'a full
^:^ • confession of her guilt,' There had been no witnesses
^ r '"^ at the meeting between these two ladies, and the
incriminating letters, which Lord Lovelace says Mrs.
^%
C"
;S»>». '^ -- Leigh wrote to Lady Byron, are not given in ' Astarte' !
^^ But in 1817 Lady Byron, referring to these meetings,
v^ says : * She acknowledged that the verses, " I speak
r ^" •.• not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name,"' were
«\. fj ^^ addressed to her.'
< r Augusta was certainly in an awkward predicament.
^^ . By adopting Medora she had, at considerable personal
risk, saved the reputation of Mary Chaworth. If she
had now told the whole truth — namely, that Medora
was merely her daughter by adoption — she would have
been pressed to prove it by divulging the identity of
that child's mother. This was of course impossible.
Not only would she have mortally offended Byron,
■^^^^ r^ ^ and have betrayed his trust in her, but the fortune
r* %^^^ which by his will would devolve upon her children
^ ' must have passed into other hands. For those reasons
it was indispensable that the truth should be veiled.
As to Mrs. Leigh's alleged statement that the lines,
' I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name,' —
were addressed to her, we say nothing. By that
portion of her so-called ' confession ' we may gauge
^ the value of the rest. That Lady Byron should have
been thus deceived affords a strong proof of her
gullibility. There is nothing to show exactly what
< -i^
LADY BYRON NEVER KNEW THE TRUTH 323
passed at these remarkable interviews. We know
that Augusta's statements, made orally, were subse-
quently written down from memory ; because Lady
Byron told one of her friends that she had sent the
said 'confession' to the Lord Chancellor (Eldon), 'as
a bar to any future proceedings that might be taken
by Lord Byron to obtain the custody of Ada.'
It is clear that Mrs. Leigh's communication would
never have been made except under a promise of
secrecy. She did not suspect the treachery which
Lady Byron contemplated, and thought that she might
safely encourage her delusions. Perhaps she divined
that Lady Byron had already convinced herself that
Medora was Byron's child. At any rate, she knew
enough of Lady Byron to be certain that there would
be no peace until that lady had satisfied herself that
her suspicions were well founded. Unhappily for
Mrs. Leigh, Hobhouse's warning arrived too late ; her
ruse failed, and her reputation suffered during life.
Although she was destined to bear the stigma of a
crime of which she was innocent, she never wavered,
and died with her secret unrevealed. Lady Byron,
with all her ingenuity, never divined the truth. To-
wards the close of her life she became uneasy in her
mind, and died under the impression that 'Augusta
had made a fool of her.'
Immediately after Mrs. Leigh's interviews with Lady
Byron she wrote to Byron, and revealed the state of
affairs. That, at the same time, she reproached him
for the troubles he had brought upon her is evident
from Byron's journal of September 29 :
' I am past reproaches, and there is a time for all
things. I am past the wish of vengeance, and I know
of none like what I have suffered ; but the hour will
21 — 2
324 • ASTARTE '
come when what I feel must be felt, and the [truth
will out?] — but enough.'
It was at this time, also, that Byron thought that the
' Epistle to Augusta ' — sent to Murray on August 28 —
had better not be published. It did not, in fact, see
the light until 1830. Lady Byron's conduct in this
business affected him profoundly, and his feelings
towards her changed completely. He was also angry
with Augusta for a time, and told her that it was
'on her account principally that he had given way
at all and signed the separation, for he thought they
would endeavour to drag her into it, although they
had no business with anything previous to his mar-
riage with that infernal fiend, whose destruction he
should yet see.'*
In spite of Lady Byron's prejudice against Mrs.
Leigh, as time went on she gradually realized that
her sister-in-law's so-called ' confession ' was not con-
sistent either with her known disposition, her reputa-
tion in society, or with her general conduct. In order
to satisfy her conscience, Lady Byron, in April, 1851,
arranged a meeting with Mrs. Leigh at Reigate.
Clearly, it was Lady Byron's purpose to obtain a full
confession from Mrs. Leigh of the crime which she
had long suspected. Lady Byron came to Reigate
accompanied by the Rev. Frederick Robertson of
Brighton, who happened then to be her spiritual
adviser. This time Augusta Leigh's 'confession' was
to be made before an unimpeachable witness, who
would keep a record of what passed. It deeply mor-
tified Lady Byron to find that Mrs. Leigh — far from
making any * confession ' — appeared before her in * all
the pride of innocence,' and, after saying that she had
* ' Astarte,' p. 166.
THE OPINION OF HOBHOUSE
325
always been loyal to Byron and his wife, and had
never tried to keep them apart, told Lady Byron that
Hobhouse — who was still living — had expressed his
opinion that Lady Byron had every reason to be
grateful to Mrs. Leigh ; for she not only risked the
loss of property, but what was much dearer to her,
Byron's affection.*
Alas, the bubble had burst ! The confession, upon
which the peace of Lady Byron's conscience de-
pended, was transformed into an avowal of inno-
cence, which no threats could shake, no arguments
could weaken, and no reproaches divert.
* Lady Byi-on and Rev. F. Robertson drew up a memorandum of
this conversation, April 8, 185 1.
y
<
iU^i^ <Y^K\^X
II
CHAPTER II
It is because * Astarte' is a pretentious and plausible
record of fallacies that the present writer feels bound
to take note of its arguments.
In order to avoid circumlocution and tedious excur-
sions over debatable ground, we will assume that the
reader is tolerably well acquainted with literature
relating to the separation of Lord and Lady Byron.
It would certainly have been better if the details
of Byron's quarrel with his wife had been ignored.
Prior to the publication of Mrs. Beecher Stowe's
articles, in 1869, the greatest tenderness had been
shown towards Lady Byron by all writers upon
Byron's career and poetry, and by all those who
alluded to his unhappy marriage. Everyone respected
Lady Byron's excellent qualities, and no one accused
her of any breach of faith in her conduct towards
either her husband or his sister. Lady Byron was
generally regarded as a virtuous and high-minded
woman, with a hard and cold disposition, but nothing
worse was said or thought of her, and the world really
sympathized with her sorrows.
But when her self-imposed silence was broken by
Mrs. Beecher Stowe, and Byron stood publicly accused
on Lady Byron's authority of an odious crime which
she had never attempted to prove during the poet's
THE FALLACIES IN 'ASTARTE' 327
lifetime, there arose a revulsion of feeling against her
memory. It was generally felt, after the suffering and
the patience of a lifetime, that Lady Byron might well
have evinced a deeper Christian spirit at its close.
As time went on, the memory of this untoward
incident gradually faded away, and the present genera-
tion thought little of the rights or wrongs of a con-
troversy which had moved their forefathers so deeply.
The dead, so to speak, had buried their dead, and all
would soon have been forgotten. Unfortunately, the
late Lord Lovelace, a grandson of Lady Byron, goaded
by perusal of the attacks made upon Lady Byron's
memory, after Mrs. Beecher Stowe's revelations in 1869,
was induced in 1905 to circulate among 'those who,
for special reasons, ought to have the means of ac-
quainting themselves with the true position of Lord
and Lady Byron,' a work entitled * Astarte,' which is
mainly a compilation of letters and data, skilfully
selected for the purpose of defaming his grandfather.
After informing the reader that * the public of this
age would do well to pay no attention to voluminous
complications and caricatures of Lord Byron,' Lord
Lovelace gaily proceeds, on the flimsiest of evidence,
to blast, not only Byron's name, but also the reputation
of the poet's half-sister, Augusta Leigh.
After telling the world that Byron 'after his death
was less honoured than an outcast,' Lord Lovelace
endeavours to justify the public neglect to honour the
remains of a great national poet by accusing Byron of
incest. Lord Lovelace's claim to have been the sole
depositary of so damning a secret is really comical,
because, as a matter of fact, he never knew the truth
at all. He thought that he had only, like Pandora, to
open his box for all the evil to fly out, forgetting that
328 • ASTARTE '
Truth has an awkward habit of lying at the bottom.
He seems, however, to have had some inkling of this,
for he is careful to remind us that ' Truth comes in
the last, and very late, limping along on the arm of
Time.'
In support of a theory which is supposed to be
revealed by his papers, Lord Lovelace declares that
a solution of Byron's mystery may be found in his
poems, and he fixes on ' Manfred ' for the key. The
haunting remorse of Manfred is once more trotted
out to prove that Byron committed incest. There is
nothing new in this * nightmare of folly,' for Byron
himself was well aware of the interpretation placed
upon that poem by his contemporaries.
Manfred is certainly the revelation of deep remorse,
but the crime for which he suffers had no connection
with Augusta Leigh. Lord Lovelace says that ' the
germ of this nightmare in blank verse was in the actual
letters of the living Astarte.' The statement may be
true ; but he was certainly not in a position to prove
it, for he knew not, to the last hour of his life, who
the living Astarte was.
It is a sad story that should never have been told,
and the present writer regrets that circumstances
should have compelled him to save the reputation of
one good woman by revealing matters affecting the
misfortunes of another. But the blame must lie with
those inconsiderate, ignorant, and prejudiced persons
who, in an attempt to justify Lady Byron's conduct,
cruell}' assailed the memory of one who
When fortune changed — and love fled far,
And hatred's shafts flew thick and fast,'
was the solitary star which rose, and set not to the
last.
LADY ANNE BARNARD 329
On January 2, 181 5, Lord and Lady Byron were
married at Seaham. The little that is known of their
married life may be found in letters and memoranda
of people who were in actual correspondence with
them, and the details which we now give from various
sources are necessary to a better understanding of the
causes which led to a separation between husband
and wife in January, 18 16.
According to a statement made by Lady Byron to
her friend Lady Anne Barnard, shortly after a rumour
of the separation spread in London, there never was
any real love on either side. The following passages
are taken from some private family memoirs written
by Lady Anne herself:
' I heard of Lady Byron's distress, and entreated her
to come and let me see and hear her, if she conceived
my sympathy or counsel could be any comfort to her.
She came, but what a tale was unfolded by this in-
teresting young creature, who had so fondly hoped
to have made [Byron] happy ! They had not been an
hour in the carriage . . . when Byron, breaking into
a malignant sneer, said : " Oh, what a dupe 3^ou have
been to 3^our imagination I How is it possible a
woman of your sense could form the wild hope of
reforming me ? Many are the tears you will have to
shed ere that plan is accomplished. It is enough for
me that you are my wife for me to hate you ; if you
were the wife of any other man, I own you might
have charms," etc.
* I listened in astonishment,' writes Lady Anne.
"'How could you go on after this, my dear!" said L
" Why did you not return to your father's ?"
' " Because I had not a conception he was in earnest ;
because I reckoned it a bad jest, and told him so — that
my opinion of him was very different from his of
himself, otherwise he would not find me by his side.
He laughed it over when he saw me appear hurt, and
I forgot what had passed till forced to remember it.
I believe he was pleased with me, too, for a little
330 ' ASTARTE '
while. I suppose it had escaped his memory that I
was his wife."
* But,' says Lady Anne, * she described the happiness
they enjoyed to have been unequal and perturbed.
Her situation in a short time might have entitled her
to some tenderness, but she made no claim on him for
any. He sometimes reproached her for the motives
that had induced her to marry him — " all was vanit}^, the
vanity of Miss Milbanke carrying the point of reforming
Lord Byron ! He always knew her inducements ; her
pride shut her eyes to his ; he wished to build up his
character and his fortunes ; both were somewhat de-
ranged ; she had a high name, and would have a
fortune worth his attention — let her look to that for
his motives !"
*"0h, Byron, Byron," she said, "how you desolate
me !" He would then accuse himself of being mad,
and throw himself on the ground in a frenzy, which
Lady Byron believed was affected to conceal the cold-
ness and malignity of his heart — an affectation which
at that time never failed to meet with the tenderest
commiseration. . . . Lady Byron saw the precipice
on which she stood, and kept his sister with her as
much as possible. He returned in the evenings from
the haunts of vice, where he made her understand
he had been, with manners so profligate.
"* Oh, wretch!" said L "And had he no moments
of remorse ?" " Sometimes he appeared to have them,"
replied Lady Byron. " One night, coming home from
one of his lawless parties, he saw me so indignantly
collected, bearing all with such determined calmness,
that a rush of remorse seemed to come over him ; he
called himself a monster, though his sister was present,
and threw himself in agony at my feet. He said
that I could not — no, I could not forgive him such
injuries. He was sure that he had lost me for ever !
Astonished at the return of virtue, my tears, I believe,
flowed over his face, and I said : * Byron, all is for-
gotten ; never, never shall you hear of it more!' He
started up, and, folding his arms while he looked at
me, burst into laughter. 'What do you mean ?' said
L 'Only a philosophical experiment, that's all,' said
he. ' I wished to ascertain the value of your resolu-
tions.' "
TEMPERAMENT OF BYRON 331
* I need not say more of this prince of duplicity,'
continues Lady Anne Barnard, ' except that varied
were his methods of rendering her wretched, even
to the last.'
There is enough evidence in the above statement to
show that a separation between Lord and Lady Byron
was inevitable. Byron's temper, always capricious,
became ungovernable under the vexatious exigencies
of his financial affairs. Several executions had taken
place in their house during the year, and it is said that
even the beds upon which they slept Vv^ere in the pos-
session of the bailiffs.
It has been shown by those who knew Byron well
that he was never suited to the married state. His
temperament was an obstacle to happiness in marriage.
He lacked the power of self-command, and the irrita-
tion produced by the shattered state of his fortune
drove him at times to explosions, which were very
like madness. We have an example of this in his
conduct one night in Ithaca, when his companions
were afraid to enter his room. Lady Byron could
not meet these explosions in any effectual manner.
The more fiercely he vented his exasperation, the
colder she became. Lady Byron, like her husband,
was a spoilt child who set her own self-will against
his. If she had possessed more tact and deeper affec-
tions, she might possibly have managed him. We
frankly admit that Byron's conduct during this period
was not calculated to win the love and respect of any
woman. During his mad moods he did his utmost to
blacken his own character, and it is not surprising
that Lady Byron, who had heard much of his conduct
before marriage, implicitly believed him. His so-called
'mystifications' were all taken seriously. She was.
332 'ASTARTE'
moreover, of a jealous nature, and Byron delighted to
torment her by suggestions of immorality which had
no foundation in fact. In such a character as Lady
Byron's, a hint was enough to awaken the darkest
suspicions, and when an impression had been stamped
on her mind it was impossible to remove it. Byron,
of course, fanned the flame, for he was bored to death
in the bonds of wedlock, and we are inclined to believe
that he did many outrageous things in order to drive
his wife on the road to a separation. When the moment
came he was sorry, but he certainly brought matters
designedly to a crisis. His sister Augusta was much
in favour of his marriage, and had strong hopes that
happiness was in store for them, as the following letter
will show :
'Six Mile Bottom,
'February 15, 1815.
' My dear Mr. Hodgson,
* You could not have gratified me more than by
giving me an opportunity of writing on my favourite
subject to one so truly worthy of it as you are ; indeed,
I have repeatedly wished of late that I could com-
municate with you. Most thankful do I feel that I
have so much to say that will delight you. I have
every reason to think that my beloved B. is very
happy and comfortable. I hear constantly from him
and /lis Rib. They are now at Seaham, and not in-
clined to return to Halnaby, because all the world were
preparing to visit them there, and at Seaham they are
free from this torment, no trifling one in B.'s estima-
tion, as you know. From my own observations on
their epistles, and knowledge of B.'s disposition and
ways, I really hope most confidently that all will turn
out very happily. It appears to me that Lady Byron
seis aboui making him happy quite in the right way.
It is true I judge at a distance, and we generally hope
as we wish; but I assure you I don't conclude hastily
on this subject, and will own to you, what I would
not scarcely to any other person, that I had many
fears and much anxiety founded upon many causes and
BYRON AS A MARRIED MAN 333
circmnstances of which 1 cannot write. Thank God !
that they do not appear likely to be realized. In short,
there seems to me to be but one drawback to all our
felicity, and that, alas ! is the disposal of dear New-
stead, which I am afraid is irrevocably decreed. I
received the fatal communication from Lady Byron
ten days ago, and will own to you that it was not only
grief, but disappointment ; for I flattered myself such
a sacrifice would not be made. From my representa-
tions she had said and urged all she could in favour of
keeping it. Mr. Hobhouse the same, and I believe that
he was deputed to make inquiries and researches, and
I knew that he wrote to B. suggesting the propriety
and expediency of at least delaying the sale. This
most excellent advice created so much disturbance in
Byron's mind that Lady B. wrote me word, " He had
such a fit of vexation he could not appear at dinner, or
leave his room. . . ." B.'s spirits had improved at the
prospect of a release from the embarrassments which
interfered so much with his comfort, and I suppose I
ou^ht to be satisfied with this. , . . May the future
brmg peace and comfort to my dearest B. ! that is
always one of my first wishes ; and I am convinced it
is my duty to endeavour to be resigned to the loss of
this dear Abbey from our family, as well as all other
griefs which are sent by Him who knows what is good
for us. . . . I do not know what are B.'s plans. Lady
Byron says nothing can be decided upon till their
affairs are in some degree arranged. They have been
anxious to procure a temporary habitation in my
neighbourhood, which would be convenient to him
and delightful to me, if his presence is required in
Town upon this sad Newstead business. But I am
sorry to say I cannot hear of any likely to suit them ;
and our house is so very small, I could scarcely con-
trive to take them in. Lady B. is extremely kind to
me, for which I am most grateful, and to my dearest B.,
for I am w^ell aware how much I am indebted to his
partiality and affection for her good opinion. I will
not give up the hope of seeing them on their way to
Town, whenever they do go, as for a few nights they
would, perhaps, tolerate the innumerable inconveni-
ences attending the best arrangements I could make for
them. . . . My babes are all quite well ; Medoramore
334 ' ASTARTE '
beautiful than ever. . . . Lady B. writes me word
she never saw her father and mother so happy : that
she beheves the latter would go to the bottom of the
sea herself to find fish for B.'s dinner, and that Byron
owns at last that he is very happy and comfortable at
Seaham, though he had predetermined to be very miser-
able. In some of her letters she mentions his health
not being very good, though he seldom complains, but
says that his spirits have been improved by some
daily walks she had prevailed on him to take ; and
attributes much of his languor in the morning and
feverish feels at night to his long fasts, succeeded by too
hearty meals for any weak and empty stomach to bear at
one time, waking by night and sleeping by day. I flatter
myself her influence will prevail over these bad habits.'
On March i8, i8i 5, Augusta Leigh again writes to
Byron's friend, the Rev. Francis Hodgson, from Six
Mile Bottom :
' B. and Lady Byron arrived here last Sunday on
their way from the North to London, where they have
taken a very good house of the Duke of Devonshire in
Piccadilly. I hope they will stay some days longer
with me, and I shall regret their departure, whenever
it takes place, as much as I now delight in their
society. Byron is looking remarkably well, and of
Lady B. I scarcely know how to write, for I have a
sad trick of being struck dumb when I am most happy
and pleased. The expectations I had formed could
not be exceeded, but at least they are fully answered.
' I think I never saw or heard or read of a more
perfect being in mortal mould than she appears to be,
and scarcely dared flatter myself such a one would fall
to the lot of my dear B. He seems quite sensible of
her value, and as happy as the present alarming state
of public and the tormenting uncertainties of his own
private affairs will admit of. Colonel Leigh is in the
North.'
On March 31, 181 5, Mrs. Leigh again writes to
Hodgson :
' Byron and Lady B. left me on Tuesday for London.
B. will probably write to you immediately. He talked
BYRON NERVOUS AND IRRITABLE 335
of it while here after I received your last letter, which
was the cause of ni)> being silent. ... I am sorry to
say his nerves and spirits are very far from what I
wish them, but don't speak of this to him on any
account.
' I think the uncomfortable state of his affairs is the
cause ; at least, I can discern no other. He has every
outward blessing this world can bestow. I trust that
the Almighty will be graciously pleased to grant him
those mzvard feelings of peace and calm which are now
unfortunately wanting. This is a subject which I can-
not dwell upon, but in which I feel and have felt all you
express. I think Lady Byron very judiciously abstains
from pressing the consideration of it upon him at the
present moment. In short, the more I see of her the
more I love and esteem her, and feel how grateful I
am, and ought to be, for the blessing of such a wife for
my dear, darling Byron.'
Augusta's next letter is written from 13, Piccadilly
Terrace, on April 29, 181 5, about three weeks after
her arrival there on a visit to the Byrons. It also is
addressed to Hodgson, and conveys the following-
message from Byron :
' I am desired to add : Lady B. is , and that
Lord Wentworth has left all to her mother, and then
to Lady Byron and children ; but Byron is, lie says, " a
very miserable dog for all that."'
At the end of June, 181 5, Augusta Leigh ended her
visit, and returned to Six Mile Bottom. There seems
to have been some unpleasantness between Augusta
and Lady Byron during those ten weeks.
Two months later, on September 4, 181 5, Augusta
Leigh writes again to Hodgson :
'Your letter reached me at a time of much hurry
and confusion, which has been succeeded by many
events of an afQicting nature, and compelled me often
to neglect those to whom I feel most pleasure in
writing. . . . My brother has just left me, having
336 ' ASTARTE '
been here since last Wednesday, when he arrived
very unexpectedly. I never saw him so well, and he
is in the best spirits, and desired me to add his con-
gratulations to mine upon your marriage.'
On November 15, 181 5, Augusta Leigh arrived at
13, Piccadilly Terrace, on a long visit.
It cannot have been a pleasant experience for
Augusta Leigh, this wretched period which culminated
in a dire catastrophe for all concerned. Lord Lovelace
tells us that, when Mrs. Leigh came to stay with them
in November, Byron * seemed much alienated from his
sister, and was entirely occupied with women at the
theatre.' And yet
* the impressions of Mrs. LeigJis miilt had been forced
into Lady Byron's mind chiefly by incidents and con-
versations ivhich occurred zvhile they were all under one
roof
What may have given rise to these suspicions is
not recorded — probably Byron's mystifications, which
were all taken seriously. But there is no attempt to
deny the fact that, during this painful time. Lady
Byron owed deep gratitude to Mrs. Leigh, who had
faithfully striven to protect her when ill and in need
of sympathy. It was during this period that Lady
Byron wrote the following cryptic note to Byron's
sister :
' You will think me ver3'^ foolish, but I have tried
two or three times, and cannot talk to you of your
departure with a decent visage ; so let me say one
word in this way to spare my philosophy. With the
expectations which I have, I never will nor can ask
you to stay one moment longer than you are inclined
to do. It would be the worst return for all I ever
received from you. But, in this at least, I am " truth
itself" when I say that, whatever the situation may be,
there is no one whose society is dearer to me, or can
THE BIRTH OF ADA 337
contribute more to my happiness. These feelings will
not change under any circumstances, and I should be
grieved if you did not understand them.
* Should you hereafter condemn me, I shall not love
you less. I will sa}'^ no more. Judge for yourself
about going or staying. I wish you to consider your-
self, if you could be wise enough to do that for the
first time in your life.'
On December 10, 181 5, Lady Byron gave birth to a
daughter. Lord Lovelace says :
' About three weeks after Lady Byron's confinement,
the aversion Byron had already at times displayed
towards her struck everyone in the house as more
formidable than ever. Augusta, George Byron, and
Mrs. Clermont, were then all staying in the house, and
were very uneasy at his unaccountable manner and
talk. He assumed a more threatening aspect towards
Lady Byron. There were paroxysms of frenzy, but a
still stronger impression was created by the frequent
hints he gave of some suppressed and bitter deter-
mination. He often spoke of his conduct and intentions
about women of the theatre, particularly on January 3,
1 8 16, when he came to Lady Byron's room and talked
on that subject with considerable violence. After that
he did not go any more to see her or the child, but
three days later sent her the following note :
^''January 6, 1816.
* " When you are disposed to leave London, it would
be convenient that a day should be fixed — and (if pos-
sible) not a very remote one for that purpose. Of
my opinion upon that subject you are sufficiently in
possession, and of the circumstances which have led
to it, as also to my plans — or, rather, intentions — for
the future. When in the country I will write to you
more fully — as Lady Noel has asked you to Kirkby ;
there you can be for the present, unless you prefer
Seaham,
*"As the dismissal of the present establishment is
of importance to me, the sooner you can fix on the
day the better — though, of course, your convenience
and inclination shall be first consulted.
22
338 ' ASTARTE '
* " The child will, of course, accompany you : there
is a more easy and safer carriage than the chariot
(unless you prefer it) which I mentioned before — on
that you can do as you please.'"
The next day Lady Byron replied in writing as
follows : * I shall obey your wishes, and fix the earliest
day that circumstances will admit for leaving London.'
Consequently she quitted London on January 15,
1 8 16. Soon after Lady Byron's arrival at Kirkby, her
mother drew from her some of the circumstances of
her misery. Lady Byron then told her mother that
she believed her life would be endangered by a return
to her husband. She expressed an opinion that Byron
was out of his mind, although he seemed competent
to transact matters connected with his business affairs.
Lady Noel, naturally, took her daughter's part entirely,
and went to London to seek legal advice. During her
stay in London, Lady Noel saw Augusta Leigh and
George Byron, who agreed with her that every
endeavour should be made to induce Byron to agree
to a separation. She also consulted Sir Samuel
Romilly, Sergeant Heywood, Dr. Lushington, and
Colonel Francis Doyle, an old friend of the Milbanke
family. They all agreed that a separation was
necessary. It was perhaps a very natural view to
take of a marriage which had run its short course so
tempestuously, but there were no grounds other than
incompatibility of temperament upon which to base
that conclusion.
'Nothing had been said at this time,' says Lord
Lovelace, * by Lady Byron of her suspicions about
Augusta, except, apparently, a few incoherent words to
Lady Noel, when telling her that Lord Byron had
threatened to take the child away from her and commit
it to Augusta's charge.'
BYRON WISHES TO MAKE PEACE 339
Byron, says Lord Lovelace,* ' was very changeable
at this time, sometimes speaking kindly of his wife —
though never appearing to wish her to return — and
the next hour he would say that the sooner Lady
Byron's friends arranged a separation, the better.'
This statement is a fair example of the manner in
which Lord Lovelace handles his facts and documents.
Mr. Hobhouse, who was in a position to know the
truth, has recently shown that Byron was very anxious
for his wife's return, was indeed prepared to make
great sacrifices to attain that object, and resolutely
opposed the wishes of those persons who tried to
arrange a legal separation. It was not until Lady
Byron herself reminded him of a promise which he had
once made to her that, ' when convinced her conduct
had not been influenced by others, he should not
oppose her wishes,' that he consented to sign the deed
of separation. He had done enough to show that he
was not afraid of any exposure which might have
affected his honour, and was willing, if necessary, to
go into a court of law, but he could not resist the
petition of his wife.t It is also extremely improbable
that Byron should, * towards the end of January, have
spoken of proposing a separation himself,' in view of
the letters which he wrote to his wife on February 5,
and February 8 following.!
On February 2 Sir Ralph Noel, under legal advice,
wrote a stiff letter requiring a separation. Byron at
that time positively refused to accept these terms.
The whole affair then became publicly known. Every
kind of report was spread about him, and especially
* ' Astarte,' p. 137.
t ' Recollections of a Long Life,' by Lord Broughton, vol. ii.,
p. 297.
X Ibid., vol. ii., pp. 219, 239.
22 — 2
340 • ASTARTE '
the scandal about Augusta was noised abroad by Lady
Caroline Lamb and Mr. Brougham. There can be no
doubt whatever that Byron heard of this report, and
paid very little attention to it. He found out then, or
soon afterwards, how the scandal arose.
Lady Byron's relations were bent on arranging an
amicable separation. Should Byron persist in his
refusal, it was intended to institute a suit in the
Ecclesiastical Court to obtain a divorce on the plea of
adultery and cruelty. There is reason to believe that
a charge of adultery could not have been substantiated
at that time.
Meanwhile, Lady Byron, who had lately acquired
some documents, which were unknown to her when
she left her husband on January 15,* came to London
on February 22, and had a long private conversation
with Dr. Lushington. She then showed him two
packets of letters which Mrs. Clermont had abstracted
from Byron's writing-desk. Lady Byron received
those letters some time between February 14 and
22, 1 8 16, One packet contained missives from a
married lady, with whom Byron had been intimate
previous to his marriage. It appears that Lady
Byron — whose notions of the ordinary code ot
honour were peculiar — sent those letters to that
lady's husband, who, like a sensible man, threw them
into the fire. Of the other packet we cannot speak so
positively. It probably comprised letters from Augusta
Leigh, referring to the child Medora.f Such expres-
* * Lady Byron said that she founded her determination [to part
from her husband] on some communication from London.' — ' Recol-
lections of a Long Life,' vol. ii., p. 255.
+ 'There is reason to believe that Lord Chief Justice Cockburn
privately saw letters [in 1869] of 1813 and 1814 which proved the
fact of incest, and the overwhelming effect of the evidence therein
contained.' — ' Astarte,' p. 54.
MRS. CLERMONT'S TREACHERY 341
sions as 'our child' or 'your child' would have fallen
quite naturally from her pen under the circumstances.
It is easy to imagine the effect of some such words
upon the suspicious mind of Lady Byron. By Mrs.
Clermont's masterful stroke of treachery, strong pre-
sumptive evidence was thus brought against Augusta
Leigh. The letters undoubtedly convinced Dr. Lushing-
ton that incest had taken place, and he warned Lady
Byron against any personal intercourse with Mrs.
Leigh. He at the same time advised her to keep her
lips closed until Augusta had of her own free will
confessed ; and pointed out to Lady Byron that,
• while proofs and impressions were such as left no
doubt on her mind, they were decidedly not such as coidd
have been brought forward to establish a charge of incest,
in the event of Lady Byron being challenged to bring
forward the grounds of her imputation^*
From that moment all Lady Byron's wiles were
employed to extract a confession from Augusta Leigh,
which would have gone far to justify Lady Byron's
conduct in leaving her husband. Soon after this
momentous interview with Dr. Lushington, an ugly
rumour was spread about town affecting Mrs. Leigh's
character.
Lord Lovelace says :
'When Augusta's friends vehemently and indig-
nantly resented such a calumny, they were met with
the argument that Lady Byron's refusal to assign a
reason for her separation confirmed the report, and that
no one but Augusta could deny it with any effect.'
This, by the nature of her agreement with Byron,
was impossible, and Mrs. Clermont's treachery held
her in a vice.
* ' Astartc,' p. 77.
342 ' ASTARTE '
During January and February, 1816, Lady Byron,
who strongly suspected Mrs. Leigh's conduct to have
been disloyal to herself, wrote the most affectionate
letters to that lady.
'KiRKBY MaLLORY.
'My dearest A.,
* It is my great comfort that you are in Picca-
dilly.'
'KiRKBY MaLLORY,
' January 23, 1816.
' Dearest A,,
' I know you feel for me as I do for you, and
perhaps I am better understood than I think. You
have been, ever since I knew you, my best comforter,
and will so remain, unless you grow tired of the office,
which may well be.'
'January 25, 1816,
'My dearest Augusta,
* Shall I still be your sister ? I must resign my
rights to be so considered ; but I don't think that will
make any difference in the kindness 1 have so uniformly
experienced from you.'
' KiRKBY MaLLORY,
' February 3, 1816.
' My dearest Augusta,
' You are desired by your brother to ask if my
father has acted with my concurrence in proposing
a separation. He has. It cannot be supposed that,
in my present distressing situation, I am capable of
stating, in a detailed manner, the reasons which will
not only justify this measure, but compel me to take
it ; and it never can be my wish to remember unneces-
sarily those injuries for which, however deep, I feel
no resentment. I will now only recall to Lord Byron's
mind his avowed and insurmountable aversion to the
married state, and the desire and determination he
has expressed ever since its commencement to free
himself from that bondage, as finding it quite insup-
portable, though candidly acknowledging that no
effort of duty or affection has been wanting on my
part. He has too painfully convinced me that all
LADY BYRON'S LETTERS 343
these attempts to contribute towards his happiness
were wholly useless, and most unwelcome to him. I
enclose this letter to my father, wishing it to receive
his sanction.
* Ever yours most affectionately,
' A. I. Byron.'
'February 4, 1816.
* I hope, my dear A., that you would on no account
withhold from your brother the letter which I sent
yesterday, in answer to yours written by his desire ;
particularly as one which I have received from himself
to-day renders it still more important that he should
know the contents of that addressed to you. I am, in
haste and not very well,
* Yours most affectionately,
' A. I. Byron.'
'KiRKBY MaLLORY,
'February 14, 1816.
' The present sufferings of all may yet be repaid in
blessings. Do not despair absolutely, dearest ; and
leave me but enough of your interest to afford you
any consolation, by partaking of that sorrow which I
am most unhappy to cause thus unintentionally.
' You zvtll be of my opinion hereafter, and at present
your bitterest reproach would be forgiven ; though
Heaven knows you have considered me more than a
thousand would have done — more than anything but
my affection for B., one most dear to you, could
deserve. I must not remember these feelings. Fare-
well ! God bless you, from the bottom of my heart.
• A. L B.'
It is only fair to remind the reader that, when these
letters were written, Lady Byron had not consulted
Dr. Lushington. We are inclined to think that the
last letter was written on the day when she received
Mrs. Clermont's ' proofs.' Meanwhile, Augusta, un-
conscious that an avalanche of scandal threatened to
344 ' ASTARTE '
sweep her reputation into an abyss, was catching at
every straw that might avert a catastrophe. Her
thoughts turned to Hodgson, whose noble character,
sound common-sense, and affection for Byron, were
undoubted. It was possible, she thought, that the
ruin and destruction which she dreaded for her brother
might be averted through the advice and assistance of
an honourable man of the world. In that wild hope
the following letters were written :
' 13, Piccadilly Terrace,
' Wednesday, February 7, 1816.
* Dear Mr. Hodgson,
' Can you by any means contrive to come up to
Town ? Were it only for a day, it might be of the
most essential service to a friend I know you love and
value. There is too much fear of a separation between
him and his wife. No time is to be lost, but even if
you are too late to prevent that happening decidedly^ yet
it would be the greatest comfort and relief to me to
confide other circumstances to you, and consult you ;
and so if possible oblige me, if only for twenty-four
hours. Say not a word of my summons, but attribute
your coming, if you come, to business of your own or
chance. Excuse brevity ; I am so perfectly wretched I
can only say,
* Ever yours most truly,
' Augusta Leigh.
* It is probable I may be obliged to go home next
week. If my scheme appears wild, pray attribute it
to the state of mind I am in. Alas ! I see only ruin
and destruction in every shape to one most dear to me.'
Hodgson at once responded to this appeal by taking
the first stage-coach to London, where the next letter
was addressed to him at his lodgings near Piccadilly :
* How very good of you, dear Mr. Hodgson ! I
intend showing the letter to B., as I think he will
jump at seeing you just now, but I must see you first ;
LETTERS TO HODGSON 345
and how? I am now going to Mr. Hanson's from B.
I'm afraid of your meeting people here who do no good,
and would counteract yours ; but will you call about
two, or after that, and ask for me first? I shall be
home, I hope, and must see you. If I'm out ask for
Capt. B.
' Yours sincerely,
'A. L.'
' Friday evening, g o'clock.
* Dear Mr. Hodgson,
' I've been unable to write to you till this
moment. Mr. H.* stayed till a late hour, and is now
here again. B. dined with me, and after I left the
room I sent your note in, thinking him in better spirits
and more free from irritations. He has only just
mentioned it to me : " Oh, by-the-by, I've had a note
from H., Augusta, whom you must write to, and say
I'm so full of domestic calamities that I can't see any-
body." Still, I think he will see you if he hears you
are here, or that even it would be better, if the worst
came to the worst, to let the servant announce you
and walk in. Can you call here about eleven to-
morrow morning, when he will not be up, or scarcely
awake, and Capt. B., you, and I, can hold a council on
what is best to be done ? The fact is, he is now a/raid
of everybody who would tell him the truth. It is a
most dreadful situation, dear Mr. H. ! The worst is,
that if 3^ou said you have done so-and-so, etc., he
would deny it ; and I see he is afraid of your despair,
as he terms it, when you hear of his situation, and, in
short, of your telling him the truth. He can only bear
to see those who flatter him and encourage him to all
that is wrong. I've not mentioned having seen you,
because I wish him to suppose your opinions un-
prejudiced. You must see him ; and pray see me and
George B. to-morrow morning, when we will consult
upon the best means. You are the only comfort I've
had this long time. I'm quite of your opinion on all
that is to be feared.
' Ever yours truly,
*A. L.'
* Hanson.
346 'ASTARTE'
' Piccadilly Terrace.
' Dear Mr. H.,
* About three you will be sure of finding me, if
not sooner. I've sent in your letter ; he said in return
I was to do what I pleased about it. I think and hope
he will find comfort in seeing you.
' Yours truly,
'A. L.'
' Saturday.
• Dear Mr. H.,
* B. will see you. I saw him open your note,
and said I had given his message this morning, when
I had seen you and talked generally on the subject of
his present situation, of which you had before heard.
He replied, " Oh, then, tell him I will see him, certainly;
my reason for not was the fear of distressing him."
You had better call towards three, and wait if he is
not yet out of his room. Mr. Hanson has sent for me
in consequence (probably) of your interview. I'm
going to him about three with Capt. B., but have said
nothing to B. of this.
* Ever yours,
'A. L.'
Immediately after the interview, which took place
on the day after the last note was written, Hodgson,
feeling that nothing could be lost and that much might
be gained by judicious remonstrance, resolved to
hazard an appeal to Lady Byron's feelings — with what
success will be seen from her ladyship's reply. It is
impossible to over-estimate the combined tact and zeal
displayed by Hodgson in this most delicate and diffi-
cult matter.
' Whether I am outstepping the bounds of prudence
in this address to your ladyship I cannot feel assured ;
and yet there is so much at stake in a quarter so loved
and valuable that I cannot forbear running the risk,
and making one effort more to plead a cause which
your ladyship's own heart must plead with a power so
m
AN APPEAL TO LADY BYRON" 347
superior to all other voices. If, then, a word that is
here said only adds to the pain of this unhappy con-
flict between affection and views of duty, without
lending any weight of reason to the object it seeks, I
would earnestly implore that it may be forgiven ; and,
above all, the interference itself, which nothing but its
obvious motive and the present awful circumstance
could in any way justify.
• After a long and most confidential conversation
with my friend (whom I have known thoroughly, I
believe, for many trying years), I am convinced that
the deep and rooted feeling in his heart is regret and
sorrow for the occurrences which have so deeply
wounded you; and the most unmixed admiration of
your conduct in all its particulars, and the warmest
affection. But may I be allowed to state to Lady
Byron that Lord B., after his general acknowledgment
of having frequently been very wrong, and, from
various causes, in a painful state of irritation, yet
declares himself ignorant of the specific things which
have given the principal offence, and that he wishes
to hear of them ; that he may, if extenuation or atone-
ment be possible, endeavour to make some reply ; or,
at all events, may understand the fulness of those
reasons which have now, and as unexpectedly as
afflictingly, driven your ladyship to the step you have
taken ?
' It would be waste of words and idle presumption
for me, however your ladyship's goodness might be
led to excuse it, to observe how very extreme, how
decidedly irreconcilable, such a case should be, before
the last measure is resorted to. But it may not be
quite so improper to urge, from my deep conviction
of their truth and importance, the following reflections.
I entreat your ladyship's indulgence to them. What
can be the consequence, to a man so peculiarly con-
stituted, of such an event ? If I may give vent to my
fear, my thorough certaint}', nothing short of absolute
and utter destruction. I turn from the idea ; but no
being except your ladyship can prevent this. None, I
am thoroughly convinced, ever could have done so,
notwithstanding the unhappy appearances to the con-
trary. Whatever, then, may be against it, whatever
restraining remembrances or anticipations, to a person
348 ' ASTARTE '
who was not already qualified by sad experience to
teach this very truth, I would say that there is a claim
paramount to all others — that of attempting to save
the human beings nearest and dearest to us from the
most comprehensive ruin that can be suffered by
them, at the expense of any suffering to ourselves.
' If I have not gone too far, I would add that so
suddenly and at once to shut every avenue to return-
ing comfort must, when looked back upon, appear a
strong measure ; and, if it proceeds (pray pardon the
suggestion) from the unfortunate notion of the very
person to whom my friend now looks for consolation
being unable to administer it, that notion I would
combat with all the energy of conviction ; and assert,
that whatever unguarded and unjustifiable words, and
even actions, may have inculcated this idea, it is the
very rock on which the peace of both would, as un-
necessarily as wretchedly, be sacrificed. But God
Almighty forbid that there should be any sacrifice.
Be all that is right called out into action, all that is
wrong suppressed (and by your only instrumentality.
Lady Byron, as by yours only it can be) in my dear
friend. May you both yet be what God intended you
for : the support, the watchful correction, and improve-
ment, of each other ! Of yourself, Lord B. from his
heart declares that he would wish nothing altered —
nothing but that sudden, surely sudden, determination
which must for ever destroy one of you, and perhaps
even both. God bless both !
' I am, with deep regard,
'Your ladyship's faithful servant,
' Francis Hodgson,'
Lady Byron's answer was as follows :
' KiRKBY,
' February 15, 1816,
* Dear Sir,
* I feel most sensibly the kindness of a remon-
strance which equally proves your friendship for Lord
Byron and consideration for me. I have declined all
discussion of this subject with others, but my know-
ledge of your principles induces me to justify my own;
LADY BYRON'S ANSWER 349
and yet 1 would forbear to accuse as much as pos-
sible.
' I married Lord B. determined to endure everj^thing
whilst there was any chance of my contributing to his
welfare. I remained with him under trials of the
severest nature. In leaving him, which, however, I
can scarcely call a voluntary measure, I probably saved
him from the bitterest remorse. I may give you a
general idea of what I have experienced by saying
that he married me with the deepest determination of
Revenge, avowed on the day of my marriage, and
executed ever since with systematic and increasing
cruelty, which no affection could change. . . . My
security depended on the total abandonment of every
moral and religious principle, against which (though 1
trust they were never obtruded) his hatred and en-
deavours were uniformly directed. . . . The circum-
stances, which are of too convincing a nature, shall
not be generally known whilst Lord B. allows me to
spare him. It is not unkindness that can always
change affection.
* With you I may consider this subject in a less
worldly point of view. Is the present injury to his
reputation to be put in competition with the danger of
unchecked success to this wicked pride ? and may not
his actual sufTerings (in which, be assured, that affec-
tion for me has very little share) expiate a future
account ? I know him too well to dread the fatal
event which he so often mysteriously threatens. I
have acquired my knowledge of him bitterly indeed,
and it was long before I learned to mistrust the appar-
ent candour by which he deceives all but himself
He does know— too well— what he affects to inquire.
You reason with me as I have reasoned with myself,
and I therefore derive from your letter an additional
and melancholy confidence in the rectitude of this
determination, which has been deliberated on the
grounds that you would approve. It was not sug-
gested, and has not been enforced, by others ; though
it is sanctioned by my parents.
'You will continue Lord Byron's friend, and the
time may yet come when he will receive from that
friendship such benefits as he now rejects. I will even
indulge the consolatory thought that the remembrance
350 'ASTARTE'
of me, when time has softened the irritation created
by my presence, may contribute to the same end. May
I hope that you will still retain any value for the
regard with which I am,
* Your most obliged and faithful servant,
'A. I. Byron.'
' I must add that Lord Byron had been fully,
earnestly, and affectionately warned of the unhappy
consequences of his conduct.'
It is most unfortunate that the second letter which
Hodgson wrote on this most distressing occasion is
lost, but some clue to its contents may be gathered
from Lady Byron's reply :
'February 24, 1816.
' Dear Sir,
* I have received your second letter. First let
me thank you for the charity with which you consider
my motives ; and now of the principal subject.
* I eagerly adopted the belief on insanity as a con-
solation ; and though such malady has been found
insufficient to prevent his responsibility with man,
I will still trust that it may latently exist, so as to
acquit him towards God. This no human being can
judge. It certainly does not destroy the powers of
self-control, or impair the knowledge of moral good
and evil. Considering the case upon the supposition
of derangement, 3'ou may have heard, what every
medical adviser would confirm, that it is in the nature
of such malady to reverse the affections, and to make
those who would naturally be dearest, the greatest
objects of aversion, the most exposed to acts of violence,
and the least capable of alleviating the malady. Upon
such grounds my absence from Lord B. was medically
advised before I left Town. But the advisers had not
then seen him, and since Mr. Le Mann has had oppor-
tunities of personal observation, it has been found that
the supposed physical causes do not exist so as to
render him not an accountable agent.
* I believe the nature of Lord B.'s mind to be most
benevolent. But there may have been circumstances
A FRAIL SECURITY 351
(I would hope the consequences^ not the causes, of
mental disorder) which would render an original
tenderness of conscience the motive of desperation —
even of guilt — when self-esteem had been forfeited
too far. No external motive can be so strong. Good-
ness of heart — when there are impetuous passions
and no principles — is a frail security.
* Every possible means have been employed to effect
a private and amicable arrangement; and I would sacri-
fice such advantages in terms as, I believe, the law
would insure to me, to avoid this dreadful necessity.
Yet I must have some security, and Lord B. refuses to
afford any. If you could persuade him to the agree-
ment, you would save me from what I most deprecate,
I have now applied to Lord Holland for that end.
' If you wish to answer — and I shall always be
happy to hear from you — I must request 3^ou to
enclose your letter to my father. Sir Ralph Noel,
Mivart's Hotel, Lower Brook Street, London, as I am
not sure where I may be at that time. My considera-
tions of duty are of a very complicated nature ; for my
duty as a mother seems to point out the same conduct
as I pursue upon other principles that I have partly
explained.
* I must observe upon one passage of j^our letter
that I had {sic) expectations of personal violence,
though I was too miserable to have feelings of fear,
and those expectations would now be still stronger.
' In regard to any change which the future state of
Lord B.'s mind might justify in my intentions, an
amicable arrangement would not destroy the opening
for reconciliation. Pray endeavour to promote the
dispositions to such an arrangement ; there is every
reason to desire it.
' Yours very truly,
*A. I. Byron.'
It is worthy of note that Lady Byron, two days after
her interview with Lnshington, here states that, in the
event of ' an amicable arrangement ' (an amicable
separation) being arrived at, it would not destroy the
opening for reconciliation. This is an extraordinary
352 'ASTARTE'
statement, because, as we have seen, Dr. Lushington
absolutely declined to be a party to any such step.
On March 14 Lady Byron signed a declaration,
giving her reasons for the separation, as will be seen
presently.
On March 16 Augusta Leigh returned to her apart-
ments in St. James's Palace, and on the following day
Byron consented to a separation from his wife. On
April 8 Lady Jersey gave a party in honour of Byron,
and to show her sympathy for him in his matrimonial
troubles. Both Byron and Augusta were present, but
it was a cold and spiritless affair, and nothing came of
this attempt to stem the tide of prejudice.
On April 14 Augusta parted for ever from her
brother, and retired into the country, her health
broken down by the worry and anxiety of the past
three months. On April 21 and 22, 18 16, the deed
of separation was signed by both Lord and Lady
Byron. On April 23 Byron left London, and travelled
to Dover accompanied by his friends Hobhouse and
Scrope-Davies. On the 25th he embarked for Ostend,
unable to face the consequences of his quarrel with
his wife.
' To his susceptible temperament and generous
feelings,' says his schoolfellow Harness, ' the reproach
of having ill-used a woman must have been poignant
in the extreme. It was repulsive to his chivalrous
character as a gentleman ; it belied all he had written
of the devoted fervour of his attachments; and rather
than meet the frowns and sneers which awaited him
in the world, as many a less sensitive man might have
done, he turned his back on them and fled.'
«
CHAPTER III
The publication of ' Astarte' has had one good result ;
it has placed beyond question the precise nature of
Lady Byron's complaints against her husband. On
March 14, 1816, Lady Byron was induced by Dr.
Lushington to draw up and sign a statement which
would be useful if her conduct should at any future
time be criticized.
We place the entire document before the reader,
just as it appears in Lord Lovelace's book :
'STATEMENT.— A. L.
' In case of my death to be given to Colonel Doyle.
A. I. Byron,
Thursday, March 14, 1816.'
'During the year that Lady Byron lived under the
same roof with Lord B. certain circumstances occurred,
and some intimations were made, which excited a sus-
picion in Lady B.'s mind that an improper connection
had at one time, and might even still, subsist between
Lord B. and Mrs. L .* The causes, however, of this
suspicion did not amount to proof, and Lady Byron
did not consider herself justified in acting upon these
suspicions by immediately quitting Lord B.'s house,
for the following reasons :
* First and principally, because the causes of suspicion,
though they made a strong impression upon her mind,
* Leigh.
353 23
354 'ASTARTE'
did not amount to positive proof, and Lady B. con-
sidered, that whilst a possibility of innocence existed,
every principle of duty and humanity forbad her to
act as if Mrs. Leigh was actually guilty, more especially
as any intimation of so heinous a crime, even if not dis-
tinctly proved, must have seriously affected Mrs. L.'s
character and happiness.
' Secondly, Lady B. had it not in her power to pursue
a middle course ; it was utterly impossible for her to
remove Mrs. L. from the society and roof of Lord B.
except by a direct accusation.
' Thirdly, because Mrs. L, had from her first acquaint-
ance with Lady B. always manifested towards her the
utmost kindness and attention, endeavouring as far as
laid in her power to mitigate the violence and cruelty
of Lord B.
' Fourthly, because Mrs. L. at times exhibited signs
of a deep remorse ; at least so Lady B. interpreted
them to be, though she does not mean to aver that the
feelings Mrs. L. then showed were signs of remorse
for the commission of the crime alluded to, or any
other of so dark a description.
* And, lastly, because Lady B. conceived it possible
that the crime, if committed, might not only be deeply
repented of, but never have been perpetrated since
her marriage with Lord B.
* It was from these motives, and strongly inclining
to a charitable interpretation of all that passed, that
Lady B. never during her living with Lord B. inti-
mated a suspicion of this nature. Since Lady B.'s
separation from Lord B. the report has become current
in the world of such a connection having subsisted.
This report was not spread nor sanctioned by Lady B.
Mrs. L.'s character has, however, been to some extent
affected thereby. Lady B. cannot divest her mind of
the impressions before stated ; but anxious to avoid
all possibility of doing injury to Mrs. L., and not by
any conduct of her own to throw any suspicion upon
Mrs. L., and it being intimated that Mrs. L. s character
can never be so effectually preserved as by a renewal
of intercourse with Lady B., she does for the motives
and reasons before mentioned consent to renew that
intercourse.
' Now, this statement is made in order to justify
i
'BE KIND TO AUGUSTA' 355
Lady B. in the line of conduct she has now determined
to adopt, and in order to prevent all misconstruction
of her motives in case Mrs. L. should be proved here-
after to be guilty ; and, if any circumstances should
compel or render it necessary for Lady B. to prefer
the charge, in order that Lady B. may be at full liberty
so to do without being prejudiced by her present
conduct.
' It is to be observed that this paper does not contain
nor pretends to contain any of the grounds which gave
rise to the suspicion which has existed and still con-
tinues to exist in Lady B.'s mind.
'We whose names are hereunto subscribed are of
opinion, that under all the circumstances above stated,
and also from our knowledge of what has passed
respecting the conduct of all parties mentioned, that
the line now adopted by Lady B. is strictly right
and honourable, as well as just towards Mrs. L., and
Lady B. ought not, whatever may hereafter occur, to
be prejudiced thereby.
' RoBT. John Wilmot.
F. H. Doyle.
Stephen Lushington.
{Signed by each.)
' London,
March 14, 18 16.'
One month later, on April 14, Byron writes a letter
to his wife, who was staying at an hotel in London, in
which he says that he has just parted from Augusta :
'Almost the last being you had left me to part with,
and the only unshattered tie of my existence. ... If
any accident occurs to me — be kind to her, — if she is
then nothing — to her children. Some time ago I in-
formed you that, with the knowledge that any child of
ours was already provided for by other and better
means, I had made m}^ will in favour of her and her
children — as prior to my marriage ; this was not done
in prejudice to you, for we had not then differed — and
even this is useless during your life by the settlements.
I say, therefore, be kind to her and hers, for never has
she acted or spoken otherwise towards you. She has
23—2
356 'ASTARTE'
ever been your friend ; this may seem valueless to one
who has now so many. Be kind to her, however, and
recollect that, though it may be an advantage to you
to have lost your husband, it is sorrow to her to have
the waters now, or the earth hereafter, between her
and her brother. She is gone. I need hardly add
that of this request she knows nothing.'
There are two points in this letter which deserve
notice. In the first place Byron intimates that he has
made a will in favour of Augusta and her children, as
prior to his marriage. This would insure that Medora
would be amply provided for. In addition to this,
Byron had already given his sister j^3,ooo in May,
1814, within one month of Medora's birth. In reply to
her scruples, Byron writes : ' Consider the children,
and my Georgina in particular — in short, I need say
no more.'
In the second place, we appeal to any unprejudiced
person whether it is likely that Byron would have
made to his wife an especial appeal on behalf of
Augusta, if he had not had a clear conscience as to his
relations with her ? That he had a clear conscience
cannot be doubted, and Augusta never hesitated in
private intercourse with Lady Byron to speak on that
painful subject. To quote Lord Lovelace :
' On all these occasions, one subject, uppermost in
the thoughts of both, had been virtually ignored,
except that Augusta had had the audacity to name the
reports about herself " with the pride of innocence," as
it is called.'
Augusta tried to make Lady Byron speak out, and
say that she did not believe the reports against her,
but in vain. Lady Byron, having once conceived a
notion of Augusta's guilt, would not change her
opinion, and was far too honest to dissemble. She
fli
MRS. VILLIERS AND WILMOT 357
found refuge in flight, not daring to show to Augusta
the letters which had been abstracted from Byron's
desk by Mrs. Clermont. In vain Mrs. Villiers and
Wilmot urged Lady Byron to avow to Augusta the
information of which they were in possession. Lady
Byron would not produce her so-called 'proofs,' and
said that 'she would experience pain in throwing off a
person she had loved, and from whom she had re-
ceived kindness.'
But Lady Byron, conscious of her false position, had
recourse to her pen, and wrote a letter to Augusta
telling her all that she knew. We are told that
Augusta did not attempt to deny the accusation, and
admitted everything in her letters of June, July, and
August, 1 8 16.
Lord Lovelace coolly says :
' It is unnecessary to produce these letters here, as
their contents are confirmed and made sufficiently
clear by the correspondence of 18 19, given in another
chapter.'
We are further told in a footnote (p. 155) that the
late Sir Leslie Stephen said it made him quite uncom-
fortable to read Mrs. Leigh's letters of humiliation
dated 18 16. One would have supposed, after such a
flourish of trumpets, that Lord Lovelace would have
produced those letters ! He does nothing of the kind,
and expects posterity to accept his ex-partc statements
without reserve. Lord Lovelace bids us to believe
that it was ' from the best and kindest motives, and
long habit of silence, that Dr. Lushington's influence
was exerted in 1869, to prevent, or at least postpone,
revelation.' The fact is, of course, he kept silence
because he well knew that there was nothing in those
letters (1813 and 1814) to fix guilt upon Mrs. Leigh.
358 'ASTARTE'
Lady Byron herself has told us that ' the causes of her
suspicion did not amount to proofs and Lady Byron did
not consider herself justified in acting upon these
suspicions.' She further states that ' the possibility of
innocence existed^ but that
' Mrs. Leigh, at times, exhibited signs of deep remorse ;
at least so Lady Byron interpreted them to be, though she
does not mean to aver that the feelings Mrs. Leigh
then showed were signs of remorse for the commission
of the crime alluded to, or any other of so dark a
description.'
But Lady Byron, under Lushington's skilful hand,
protects herself against the possibility of legal pro-
ceedings for defamation of character by these words :
' This paper does not contain, nor pretend to contain,
any of the grounds which give rise to the suspicion
which has existed, and still continues to exist, in
Lady Byron's mind. Her statement is made in order
to justify Lady Byron . . . in case Mrs. Leigh should
be proved herccifter to be guilty.^
As this statement was made after Lady Byron's
interview with Dr. Lushington (when he decided to
take no part in any attempt at reconciliation), it is
perfectly clear that the alleged incriminating letters
were not considered as conclusive evidence against
Mrs. Leigh. Although they were sufficient to detach
Lushington from the party of reconciliation, it was
not considered wise to produce them as evidence in
1869, at a time when a strong revulsion of feeling had
set in against Lady Byron.
The clear legal brain of Sir Alexander Cockburn,
trained to appraise evidence, saw through the flimsy
pretext which had deceived an equally great lawyer.
Time instructs us, and much has come to light in this
LADY BYRON FEARS TO LOSE ADA 359
so-called ' Byron mystery,' since Lady Byron beguiled
Lushington. Among other things, we now know, on
Lord Lovelace's authority, that Lady Byron was afraid
that her child would be taken from her by Byron, and
placed under the care of Mrs. Leigh. We also know,
on the authority of Hobhouse,* that Lady Byron's
representatives distinctly disavowed, on Lady Byron's
behalf, having spread any rumours injurious to Lord
Byron's character in that respect, and also stated that
a charge of incest would not have been made part of
her allegations if she had come into court. This dis-
avowal was signed by Lady Byron herself, and was
witnessed by Mr. Wilmot. It is certain that Lord
Byron would have gone into a court of law to meet
that charge, and that he refused to agree to a separa-
tion until that assurance had been given. This grave
charge was still in abeyance in 1816; it was not safe
to speak of it until after Byron's death, and then only
under the seal of secrecy.
' Upon one contingency onl}^' wrote Sir Francis
Doyle in 1830 — ' namely, the taking from Lady Byron
of her child, and placing her under the care of Mrs.
Leigh — would the disclosure have been made of Lady
Byron's grounds for suspecting Mrs. Leigh's guilt.'
It was evident that Lady Byron was clutching at
straws to save her child from Mrs. Leigh, and to
prevent this it was essential to prove Mrs. Leigh's
unworthiness. In her maternal anxiety she stuck at
nothing, and for a time she triumphed. Her private
correspondence was drenched with the theme that
had impressed Lushington so strongly.
A fortnight after signing her * statement,' Lady
* ' Recollections of a Long Life,' vol. ii., p. 303.
36o 'ASTARTE'
Byron writes to Mrs. George Lamb, in reference to
Mrs. Leigh :
' I am glad tliat you think of her with the feelings of
pity which prevail in my mind, and surely if in mine
there must be some cause for them. I never was, nor
ever can be, so mercilessly virtuous as to admit no
excuse for even the worst of errors.'
Such letters go perilously near that charge which
Lady Byron's representatives had repudiated in the
presence of Hobhouse. But Lady Byron was desperate,
and her whole case depended on a general belief in that
foul accusation. What could not be done openly could
be done secretly, and she poisoned the air to save her
child.
Colonel Doyle, who seems to have been one of the
few on Lady Byron's side who kept his head, wrote to
her on July 9, 1816:
' I see the possibility of a contingency under which
the fullest explanation of the motives and grounds of
your conduct may be necessary; I therefore implore
of you to suffer no delicacy to interfere with your
endeavouring to obtain the fullest admission 01 the
fact. If you obtain an acknowledgment of the facts
and that your motives be, as you seem to think,
properly appreciated, I think on the whole we shall
nave reason to rejoice that you have acted as you have
done, but I shall be very anxious to have a more detailed
knowledge of what has passed, and particularly of the
state in which you leave it. The step you have taken
was attended with great risk, and 1 could not, con-
templating the danger to which it might have exposed
you, have originally advised it.
' If, however, your correspondence has produced an
acknowledgment of the fact even previous to your
marriage, I shall be most happy tnat it has taken
place.'
Colonel Doyle, by no means easy in his own mind,
again writes to Lady Byron on July 18, 1816:
ATTEMPT TO INVEIGLE AUGUSTA 361
* I must recommend you to act as if a time might
possibl}'' arise when it would be necessary for you to
justify yourself, though nothing short of an absolute
necessity so imperative as to be irresistible could ever
authorize your advertence to your present communi-
cations. Still, I cannot dismiss from my mind the
experience we have had, nor so far forget the very
serious embarrassment we were under from the effects
of your too confiding disposition, as not to implore
you to bear in mind the importance of securing your-
self from eventual danger.
'This is my first object, and if that be attained, I shall
approve and applaud all the kindness you can show
[to Mrs. Leigh].'
Here, then, we have a picture of the state of affairs
limned by a man who was an accomplice of Lady
Byron's, and who was fully awake to the danger of
their position in the event of Byron turning round
upon them. The husband might insist upon Lady
Byron explaining the grounds of her conduct. In
order to make their position secure, it would be, above
all things, necessary to obtain a full confession from
Mrs. Leigh of her criminal intercourse with Byron.
With this end in view, Lady Byron opened a corre-
spondence with Augusta Leigh, and tried to inveigle
her into making an admission of her guilt. It was
not an easy matter to open the subject, but Lady
Byron was not abashed, and, under cover of sundry
acts of kindness, tried hard to gain her point. In this
game of foils Augusta showed remarkable skill, and
seems to have eventually fooled Lady Byron to the
top of her bent. No wonder, then, that Mrs. Leigh,
accused of an abominable crime by her sister-in-law,
should have written to a friend :
* None can know how nmch I have suffered from this
unhappy business — and, indeed, I have never known
a moment's peace, and begin to despair for the future.'
362 • ASTARTE '
Lady Byron and her friends plied Mrs. Leigh
with questions, hoping to gain a confession which
would justify their conduct. Lady Noel strongly and
repeatedly warned Lady Byron against Mrs. Leigh,
who, like a wounded animal, was dangerous. ' Take
care of Augusta,' she wrote September 7, 1816. ' If I
know anything of human nature, she docs and must
hateyou.^
As a matter of fact, Augusta, while pretending con-
trition for imaginary sins, revenged herself upon Lady
Byron by heightening her jealousy, and encouraging
her in the belief that Byron had not only been her
lover, but was still appealing to her from abroad. She
even went so far as to pretend that she was going to
join him, which nearly frightened Mrs. Villiers out
of her wits. They lied to Augusta profusely, these
immaculate people, and had the meanness to tell her
that Byron had betrayed her in writing to two or
three women. They probably wished to cause a
breach between brother and sister, but Augusta, who
pretended to be alarmed by this intelligence, laughed
in her sleeve. She knew the truth, and saw through
these manoeuvres ; it was part of her plan to keep
Lady Byron on a false scent. ' I cannot believe my
brother to have been so dishonourable,' was her meek
rejoinder, meaning, of course, that it would have been
dishonourable for Byron to have defamed one who,
having taken his child under her protection, had saved
the honour of the woman whom he loved. But Lady
Byron regarded Mrs. Leigh's answer as an admission
of guilt, and trumpeted the news to all her friends.
Lord Lovelace tells us that Augusta, on August 5,
1816, wrote to Lady Byron a letter, in which she
asserted most solemnly that Byron had not been her
'A MOST WRETCHED BUSINESS' 363
friend, and that, though there were difficulties in
writing to him, she was determined never to see him
again in the way she had done. It is remarkable that
the letter to which Lord Lovelace refers is not given
in ' Astarte,' where one would naturally expect to find
it. In order to gauge the impression made upon
Augusta's mind, the reader will do well to consult the
letters which she wrote a little later to the Rev.
Francis Hodgson, in which she speaks of Byron with
the greatest affection.
'And now for our old subject, dear B. I wonder
whether you have heard from him ? The last to me
was from Geneva, sending me a short but most inter-
esting journal of an excursion to the Bernese Alps.
He speaks of his health as very good, but, alas ! his
spirits appear wofuUy the contrary. I believe, how-
ever, that he does not write in that strain to others.
Sometimes I venture to indulge a hope that what I
wish most earnestly for him may be working its way
in his mind. Heaven grant it !'
In another letter to Hodgson she speaks of Ada, and
says :
' The bulletins of the poor child's health, by Byron's
desire, pass through me, and I'm very sorry for it, and
that I ever had any concern in this most wretched
business. I can't, however, explain all my reasons at
this distance, and must console myself by the con-
sciousness of having done my duty, and, to the best of
my judgment, all I could for the happiness oi both'
At a time when Byron was accused of having 'be-
trayed his sister in writing to two or three women,'
he was writing that well-known stanza in ' Childe
Harold ' :
' But there was one soft breast, as hath been said,
Which unto his was bound by stronger ties
Than the Church links withal; and though unwed,
Yet it was pure — and, far above disguise,
364 ' ASTARTE '
Had stood the test of mortal enmities
Still undivided, and cemented more
By peril, dreaded most in female eyes ;
But this was firm, and from a foreign shore
Well to that heart might his these absent greetings pour.'
And it was in July, 18 16, that Augusta's loyalty to him
and to Mary Chaworth moved Byron to write his
celebrated * Stanzas to Augusta ' :
' Though ihy soul with my grief was acquainted,
It shrunk not to share it with me.
And the Love which my spirit hath painted
It never hath found but in Thee.'
' Though human, thou didst not betray me ;
Though tempted, thou never couldst shake.'
Lord Lovelace claims to have found the key ot the
Byron mystery in ' Manfred,' and employs it as a
damning proof against Augusta, with what justice we
have seen.
At the time when ' Manfred ' was begun Mary
Chaworth was temporarily insane. The anxiety which
she had undergone at the time of Byron's matrimonial
quarrels, when she feared that a public inquiry might
disclose her own secret, affected her health. She bore
up bravely until after Byron's departure from England ;
then, the strain relieved, her mind gave way, and she
lived for some time in London, under the care of a
doctor. Her illness was kept as secret as possible,
but Augusta, who was constantly at her side, in-
formed Byron of her condition.
CHAPTER IV
There has of late years been a disposition on the part
of Byron's biographers unduly to disparage Moore's
'Life of Byron.' Tastes have changed, and Moore's
patronizing style of reference to ' his noble friend the
noble poet ' does not appeal to the democratic senti-
ment now prevailing. But, after allowance has been
made for Moore's manner, it cannot be denied that, in
consequence of his personal intimacy with Byron, his
work must always have a peculiar value and authority.
There are, for instance, portions of Moore's ' Life '
which are indispensable to those who seek to fathom
the depths of Byron's mind. Moore says that Byron
was born with strong affections and ardent passions,
and that his life was
' one continued struggle between that instinct of genius,
which was for ever drawing him back into the lonely
laboratory of self, and those impulses of passion,
ambition, and vanity, which again hurried him off into
the crowd, and entangled him in its interests.'
Moore assures us that most of Byron's so-called
love-affairs were as transitory as the imaginings that
gave them birth.
* It may be questioned,' says Moore, 'whether his
heart had ever much share in such passions. Actual
objects there were, in but too great number, who, as
365
366 ' ASTARTE '
long as the illusion continued, kindled up his thoughts
and were the themes of his song. But theywere little
more than mere dreams of the hour. There zvas but
one love that lived unquenched through air — Byron's love
for Mary Chaworth.
Every other attachment faded away, but that endured
to the end of his stormy life.
In speaking of Byron's affection for his sister, Moore,
who knew all that had been said against Augusta
Leigh and Byron, and had read the * Memoirs,' re-
marked :
* In a mind sensitive and versatile as [Byron's], long
habits of family intercourse might have estranged, or
at least dulled, his natural affection for his sister ; but
their separation during youth left this feeling fresh
and untired. That he was himself fully aware of this
appears from a passage in one of his letters : " My
sister is in Town, which is a great comfort ; for, never
having been much together, we are naturally more
attached to each other." His very inexperience in
such ties made the smile of a sister no less a novelty
than a charm to him ; and before the first gloss of this
newly awakened sentiment had time to wear off, they
were again separated, and for ever.'
When the parting came it was bitter indeed, for she
was, says Moore,
'almost the only person from whom he then parted
with regret. Those beautiful and tender verses,
" Though the day of my destiny's over," were now his
parting tribute to her who, through all this bitter trial,
had been his sole consolation.'
Enough has been said to show what kind of woman
Augusta was, and it is difficult to understand by what
process of reasoning Lord Lovelace persuaded himself
that she could have been guilty of the atrocious crime
which he lays to her charge. We entirely concur
AUGUSTA THE VICTIM OF A PLOT 367
with Mrs. Villiers, when she wrote to Augusta Leigh
(in September, 1816): 'I consider you the victim to
the most infernal plot that has ever entered the heart
of man to conceive,'
We must at the same time frankly admit that
Augusta, in order to screen Mary Chaworth, did all
she could do to keep Lady Byron under a false im-
pression. She seems to have felt so secure in the
knowledge of her own innocence that she might afford
to allow Lady Byron to think as ill of her as she
pleased.
Unfortunately, Augusta, having once entered upon
a course of duplicity, was obliged to keep it up by
equivocations of all kinds. She went so far as even
to show portions of letters addressed to her care, and
pretended that they had been written to herself. She
seems to have felt no compunction for the sufferings
of Lady Byron. She may even have exulted in the
pain she inflicted upon that credulous lady, having
herself suffered intensely through the false suspicions,
and the studied insults heaped upon her by many of
Lady Byron's adherents.
Byron, who was informed of what had been said
against his sister by Lady Byron and others, told the
world in * Marino Faliero ' that he * had only one fount
of quiet left, and that they poisoned.' But he was
powerless to interfere.
Writing to Moore (September 19, 18 18) he said :
' I could have forgiven the dagger or the bowl — any-
thing but the deliberate desolation piled upon me,
when I stood alone upon my hearth, with my house-
hold gods shivered around me. Do you suppose I
have forgotten it ? It has, comparatively, swallowed
up in me every other feeling, and I am only a spectator
upon earth till a tenfold opportunity offers.'
368 ' ASTARTE '
It may be that Augusta avenged her brother tenfold
without his knowledge. But she suffered in the pro-
cess. Lord Lovelace lays great stress upon what he
calls * the correspondence of 1819/ in order to show us
that Augusta had confessed to the crime of incest.
That correspondence is very interesting, not as show-
ing the guilt of Augusta Leigh, but as an example of
feminine duplicity in which she was an adept. Augusta
was hard pressed indeed for some weapon of offence
when she pretended, on June 25, 1819, that she had
received the following letter from her brother. She
must have been some time in making up her mind to
send it, as the letter in question had been in her hands
three weeks, having arrived in London on June 4. It
may be as well to state that all letters written by
Byron to Mary Chaworth passed through Mrs. Leigh's
hands, and were delivered with circumspection.
'Venice,
'May 17, 1819.*
' My dearest Love,
* I have been negligent in not writing, but what
can I say? Three years' absence — and the total change
of scene and habit make such a difference that we
have never nothing in common but our affections and
our relationship. But I have never ceased nor can
cease to feel for a moment that perfect and boundless
attachment which bound and binds me to you — which
renders me utterly incapable of real love for any other
human being — for what could they be to me after you ?
My own . . .f we may have been very wrong — but I
repent of nothing except that cursed marriage — and
your refusing to continue to love me as you had loved
me. I can neither forget nor quite forgive you for that
precious piece of reformation, but I can never be other
than I have been — and whenever I love anything it is
* A fortnight before writing ' Stanzas to the Po.'
+ ' Short name of three or four letters obliterated.' — ' Astarte,' p. 180.
A LETTER TO 'THYRZA' 369
because it reminds me in some way or other of your-
self. For instance, I not long ago attached myself to
a Venetian for no earthly reason (although a pretty
woman) but because she was called . . .* and she often
remarked (without knowing the reason) how fond I
was of the name.f It is heart-breaking to think of our
long separation — and I am sure more than punishment
enough for all our sins. Dante is more humane in his
" Hell," for he places his unfortunate lovers — Fran-
cesca of Rimini and Paolo — whose case fell a good
deal short of ours, though sufficiently naughty) in com-
fany ; and though they suffer, it is at least together,
f ever I return to England it will be to see you ; and
recollect that in all time, and place, and feelings, I
have never ceased to be the same to you in heart.
Circumstances may have ruffled my manner and
hardened my spirit ; you may have seen me harsh and
exasperated with all things around me ; grieved and
tortured with your new resolution, and the soon after
persecution of that infamous fiend t who drove me from
my country, and conspired against my life — by en-
deavouring to deprive me of all that could render it
precious § — but remember that even then you were the
sole object that cost me a tear ; and what tears ! Do
you remember our parting ? I have not spirits now
to write to you upon other subjects. I am well in
health, and have no cause of grief but the reflection
that we are not together. When you write to me
speak to me of yourself, and say that you love me ;
never mind common-place people and topics which
can be in no degree interesting to me who see nothing
in England but the country which holds you, or around
it but the sea which divides us. They say absence
destroys weak passions, and confirms strong ones.
Alas ! mine for you is the union of all passions and of all
affections — has strengthened itself, but will destroy
me ; I do not speak of physical destruction, for I have
endured, and can endure, much ; but the annihilation
of all thoughts, feelings, or hopes, which have not
* Short name of three or four letters obliterated.
+ Marianna (AngUce : Mary Anne).
\ Lady Byron (see ' Astarte,' p. i66).
§ His sister's society.
24
370 ' ASTARTE '
more or less a reference, to you and to our recol-
lections.
* Ever, dearest,'
[Signature erased].
The terms of this letter, which Lord Lovelace pro-
duces as conclusive evidence against Augusta Leigh,
deserve attention. At first sight they seem to confirm
Lady Byron's belief that a criminal intercourse had
existed between her husband and his sister. But
close examination shows that the letter was not
written to Mrs. Leigh at all, but to Mary Chaworth.
On the day it was written Byron was at Venice,
where he had recently made the acquaintance of the
Countess Guiccioli, whom, as * Lady of the land,' he
followed to Ravenna a fortnight later. It will be
noticed that the date synchronizes with the period
when the ' Stanzas to the Po ' were written. Both
letter and poem dwell upon the memory of an unsatis-
fied passion. The letter bears neither superscription
nor signature, both having been erased by Mrs.
Leigh before the document reached Lady Byron's
hands. The writer excuses himself for not having
written to his correspondent {a) because three years'
absence, {b) total change of scene, and (c) because there
is nothing in common between them, except mutual
affections and their relationship. Byron could not
have excused himself in that manner to a sister, who
had much in common with him, and to whom he had
written, on an average, twice in every month since he
left England. His letters to Augusta entered minutely
into all his feelings and actions, and the common bond
between them was Ada, whose disposition, appear-
ance, and health, occupied a considerable space in their
correspondence.
MARIANNA 371
Nor would Byron have written in that amatory
strain to his dear ' Goose,' In the letter which pre-
ceded the one we have quoted, Byron begins, ' Dearest
Augusta,' and ends, * I am in health, and yours, B.' In
that which followed it there is nothing in the least
effusive. It begins, * Dearest Augusta,' and ends,
' Yours ever, and very truly, B.' There are not many
of Byron's letters to Augusta extant. All those
which mentioned Medora were either mutilated or
suppressed.
For Byron to have given ' three years' absence, and
a total change of scene,' as reasons for not having
written to his sister for a month or so would have
been absurd. But when he said that he had nothing
in common with Mary Chaworth, except 'our affec-
tions and our relationship,' his meaning was — their
mutual affections, their kinship, and their common
relationship to Medora.
We invite any unprejudiced person to say whether
Byron would have been likely to write to a sister, who
knew his mind thoroughly, * I have never ceased —
nor can cease to feel for a moment that perfect and
boundless attachment which bound and binds me to
you.' Did not Augusta know very well that he loved and
admired her, and that Byron was under the strongest
obligations to her for her loyalty at a trying time ?
Then, there was the erasure of * a short name of
three or four letters,' which might have opened Lady
Byron's eyes to the trick that was being played upon
her. Those four letters spelt the name of Mary, and
the ' pretty woman ' to whom Byron had ' not long
ago' attached himself was the Venetian Marianna
(Anglice : Mary Anne) Segati, with whom he formed
a liaison from November, 18 16, to February 1818.
24 — 2
372 ' ASTARTE '
Augusta would certainly not have understood the
allusion.
In this illuminating letter Byron reproaches Mary
Chaworth for breaking off her fatal intimacy with him,
and for having persuaded him to marry — 'that in-
famous fiend who drove me from my country, and
conspired against my life — by endeavouring to deprive
me of all that could render it precious.' As the person
here referred to was, obviously, Augusta herself, this
remark could not have been made to her. In speaking
of their long separation as a punishment for their sins,
he tells Mary Chaworth that, if he ever returns to
England, it will be to see her, and that his feelings
have undergone no change. It will be observed that
Byron begs his correspondent to speak to him only of
herself and to say that she loves him ! It is scarcely
necessary to remind the reader that Augusta was the
intermediary between Byron and his wife — his confi-
dential agent in purely private affairs. It was to her
that he wrote on all matters relating to business trans-
actions with his wife, and from whom he received
intelligence of the health and happiness of his daughter.
Under those circumstances how could Byron ask
Augusta to speak to him of nothing but her love
for him ?
To show the absurdity of Lord Lovelace's conten-
tion, we insert the letter which Byron wrote to his
sister seven months later. Many letters had passed
between them during the interval, but we have not
been allowed to see them ;
' Bologna,
' December 23, 1819.
' Dearest Augusta,
'The health of my daughter Allegra, the cold
season, and the length of the journey, induce me to
A LOCK OF HAIR 373
postpone for some time a purpose (never very willing
on my part) to revisit Great Britain.
* You can address to me at Venice as usual. Wher-
ever I may be in Italy, the letter will be forwarded.
I enclose to you all that long hair on account of
which you would not go to see my picture. You
will see that it was not so very long. I curtailed it
yesterday, my head and hair being weakly after my
tertian.
' I wrote to you not very long ago, and, as I do not
know that I could add anything satisfactory to that
letter, I may as well finish this. In a letter to Murray
I requested him to apprise you that my journey
was postponed; but here, there, and everywhere,
know me
* Yours ever and very truly,
•b;
It is ridiculous to suppose that these two letters
were addressed to the same person. In the one we
find the expression of an imperishable attachment, in
the other merely commonplace statements. In the
first letter Byron says, if ever he returns to England,
it will be to see the person to whom he is writing,
and that absence has the more deeply confirmed his
passion. In the second he tells the lady that he has
had his hair cut, and that he was never very willing
to revisit Great Britain! And yet, in spite of these
inconsistencies, Lady Byron walked into the snare
which Augusta had so artfully prepared. In forward-
ing the amatory epistle to Lady Byron, Augusta tells
her to burn it, and says that her brother 'must surely
be considered a maniac' for having written it, adding,
with adroit mystification :
*/ do not believe any feelings expressed are by
any means permanent — only occasioned by the pass-
ing and present reflection and occupation of writing
to the unfortunate Being to whom they are addressed!
374 ' ASTARTE '
Augusta did not tell Lady Byron that ' the un-
fortunate Being ' was Mary Chaworth, now reconciled
to her husband, and that she had withheld Byron's
letter from her, lest her mind should be unsettled by
its perusal.
Mrs. Leigh had two excellent reasons for this be-
trayal of trust. In the first place, she wished Lady
Byron to believe that her brother was still making
love to her, and that she was keeping her promise in
not encouraging his advances. In the second place,
she knew that the terms of Byron's letter would
deeply wound Lady Byron's pride — and revenge is
sometimes sweet !
Lady Byron, who was no match for her sister-in-
law, had failed to realize the wisdom of her mother's
warning : * Beware of Augusta, for she must hate you.'
She received this proof of Augusta's return to virtue
with gratitude, thanked her sincerely, and acknow-
ledged that the terms of Byron's letter * afforded ample
testimony that she had not encouraged his tenderness.'
Poor Lady Byron 1 She deserves the pity of posterity.
But she was possessed of common sense, and knew
how to play her own hand fairly well. She wrote to
Augusta in the following terms :
' This letter is a proof of the prior " reformation,"
which was sufficiently evidenced to me by your own
assertion, and the agreement of circumstances with it.
But, in case of a more unequivocal disclosure on his part
than has yet been made, this letter would confute those
false accusations to which you would undoubtedly be
subjected from others.'
In suggesting a more open disclosure on Byron's
part, Lady Byron angled for further confidences, so
that her evidence against her husband might be over-
LADY BYRON ADVISES AUGUSTA 375
whelming. She hoped that his repentant sister might
be able to show incriminating letters, which would
support the clue found in those missives which Mrs.
Clermont had ' conveyed.' How little did she under-
stand Augusta Leigh ! Never would she have assisted
Lady Byron to prejudice the world against her brother,
nor would she have furnished Lady Byron with a
weapon which might at any moment have been turned
against herself.
With the object of proving Augusta's guilt, the
whole correspondence between her and Lady Byron
from June 27, 18 19, to the end of the following January
has been printed in ' Astarte.'
We have carefully examined it without finding any-
thing that could convict Augusta and Byron. It seems
clear that Mrs. Leigh began this correspondence with
an ulterior object in view. She wished to win back
Lady Byron's confidence, and to induce her to make
some arrangement by which the Leigh children would
benefit at Lady Byron's death, in the event of Byron
altering the will he had already made in their favour.
She began by asking Lady Byron's advice as to how
she was to answer the * Dearest Love ' letter. Lady
Byron gave her two alternatives. Either she must
tell her brother that, so long as his idea of her was
associated with the most guilty feelings, it was her
duty to break off all communication ; or, if Augusta
did not approve of that plan, then it was her duty to
treat Byron's letter with the silence of contempt. To
this excellent advice Augusta humbly replied that, if
she were to reprove her brother for the warmth of his
letter, he might be mortally offended, in which case
her children, otherwise unprovided for, would fare
badly. But Mrs. Leigh was too diplomatic to convey
376 ' ASTARTE '
that meaning in plain language. Writing June 28,
1819, she says :
' I will tell you what nozv passes in my mind. As to
the gentler expedient you propose, I certainly lean to
it, as the least offensive ; but, supposing he suspects
the motive, and is piqued to answer : *' I wrote you
such a letter of such a date : did you receive it ?"
What then is to be done ? I could not reply falsely —
and might not that line of conduct, acknowledged,
irritate ? This consideration would lead me, perhaps
preferably, to adopt the other, as most open and honest
(certainly to any other character but his), but query
whether it might not be most judicious as to its effects ;
and at the same time acknowledging that his victim
was wholly in his power, as to temporal good,* and
leaving it to his generosity whether to use that power
or not. There seem so many reasons why he should
for his own sake dihstdiXn for the present horn gratifying
his revenge, that one can scarcely think he would do
so — unless insane. It would surely be ruin to all his
prospects, and those of a pecuniary nature are not
indifferent if others are become so.
' If really and truly he feels, or fancies he feels, that
passion he professes, I have constantly imagined he
might suppose, from his experience of the weakness of
disposition of the unfortunate object, that, driven from
every other hope or earthly prospect, she might fly to
him! and that as long as he was impressed with that
idea he would persevere in his projects. But, if he
considered that hopeless, he might desist, for otherwise
he must lose everything but his revenge^ and what
good would that do him ?
' After all, my dearest A., if you cannot calculate the
probable consequences, how should I presume to do
so ! To be sure, the gentler expedient might be the
safest, with so violent and irritable a disposition, and
at least for a time act as a palliative — and who knows
what changes a little time might produce or how Pro-
vidence might graciously interpose ! With so many
reasons to wish to avoid extremities (I mean for the
* In case Byron altered his will.
MRS. LEIGH'S DUPLICITY 377
sake of others), one leans to what appears the safest,
and one is a coward.
' But the other at the same time has something
gratifying to one's feelings — and I think might be said
and done — so that, if he showed the letters, it would
be no evidence against the person; and worded with
that kindness, and appearance of real affectionate con-
cern for him as well as the other person concerned,
that it might possibl}^ touch him. Pray think of what
I have thought^ and write me a line, not to decide, for
that I cannot expect, but to tell me if 1 deceived myself
in the ideas I have expressed to you. I shall not,
cannot answer till the latest post-day this week.
* 1 know you will forgive me for this infliction, and
may God bless you for that, and every other kindness.'
We do not remember ever to have read a letter
more frankly disingenuous than this. The duplicity
lurking in every line shows why the cause of the
separation between Lord and Lady Byron has been
for so long a mystery. Lady B3^ron herself was
mystified by Augusta Leigh. It certainly was not
easy for Lady Byron to gauge the deep deception
practised upon her by both her husband and Mrs.
Leigh ; and yet it is surprising that Lady Byron
should not have suspected, in Augusta's self-depre-
ciation, an element of fraud. Was it likely that
Augusta, who had good reason to hate Lady Byron,
would have provided her with such damning proofs
against her brother and herself, if she had' not pos-
sessed a clear conscience in the matter? She relied
implicitly upon Byron's letter being destroyed, and
so worded her own that it would be extremely difficult
for anyone but Lady Byron to understand what she
was writing about. It will be noticed that no names
are mentioned in any of her missives. People are
referred to either as 'maniacs,' 'victims,' 'unfortunate
objects,' or as ' that most detestable woman, your rela-
378 ' ASTARTE '
tion by marriage,' which, in a confidential communica-
tion to a sister-in-law, would be superfluous caution
were she really sincere. But, after the separation
period, Mrs. Leigh was never sincere in her inter-
course with Lady Byron. Through that lady's un-
flattering suspicions, Augusta had suffered ' too much
to be forgiven.' Lady Byron, on the other hand, with
very imperfect understanding of her sister-in-law's
character, was entirely at her mercy. To employ a
colloquialism, the whole thing was a * blind,' devised
to support Augusta's role as a repentant Magdalen ; to
attract compassion, perhaps even pecuniary assistance ;
and, above all, to shield the mother of Medora. The
ruse was successful. Lady Byron saw a chance of
eventually procuring, in the handwriting of her hus-
band, conclusive evidence of his crime. In her letter
of June 27, 1 8 19, to Mrs. Leigh, she conveyed a hint
that Byron might be lured to make 'a more unequivocal
disclosure than has yet been made.'
Lady Byron, it must be remembered, craved inces-
santly for documentary proofs, which might be pro-
duced, if necessary, to justify her conduct. It is
significant that at the time of writing she possessed no
evidence, except the letters which Mrs. Clermont had
purloined from Byron's writing-desk, and these were
pronounced b}^ Lushington to be far from conclusive.
Mrs. Leigh seems to have enjoyed the wrigglings
of her victim on the hook. * Decision was never my
forte,' she writes to Lady Byron : ' one ought to act
right, and leave the issue to Providence.'
The whole episode would be intensely comical were
it not so pathetic. As might have been expected. Lady
Byron eventually suffered far more than the woman
she had so cruelly wounded. Augusta seems coolly to
MRS. LEIGH'S DUPLICITY 379
suggest that her brother might 'out of revenge'
(because his sister acted virtuously?) publish to the
world his incestuous intercourse with her ! Could
anyone in his senses believe such nonsense ? Augusta
hints that then Lady Byron would be able to procure
a divorce ; and, as Lady Noel was still alive, Byron
would not be able to participate in that lady's fortune
at her death.
The words, ' There seem so many reasons why he
should for his own sake abstain for the present from
gratifying his revenge ... it would surely be ruin to
all his prospects,' are plain enough. Even if there
had been anything to disclose, Byron would never
have wounded that sister who stood at his side at the
darkest hour of his life, who had sacrificed herself in
order to screen his love for Mary Chaworth, and who
was his sole rock of refuge in this stormy world. But
it was necessary to show Lady Byron that she was
standing on the brink ' of a precipice.'
* On the subject of the mortgage,' writes Augusta,
* 1 mean to decline that wholly ; and pray do me the
justice to believe that one thought of the interests of
my children, as far as that channel is concerned, never
crosses my mind, I have entreated — I believe more
than once — that the will might be altered. [Oh,
Augusta !] But if it is not — as far as I understand
the matter — there is not the slightest probability of
their ever deriving any benefit. Whatever my feelings,
dear A., I assure you, never in my life have I looked
to advantage of that sort. I do not mean that I have
any merit in not doing it — but that I have no inclina-
tion, therefore nothing to struggle with. I trust my
babes to Providence, and, provided they are good, I
think, perhaps, too little of the rest.'
It is plain that Augusta was getting nervous about
her brother's attachment to the Guiccioli, a liaison
380 ' ASTARTE '
which might end in trouble ; and if that lady was
avaricious (which she was not) Byron might be in-
duced to alter his will (made in 1815), by which he
left all his share in the property to Augusta's children.
With a mother's keen eye to their ultimate advantage,
she tried hard to make their position secure, so that,
in the event of Byron changing his mind. Lady Byron
might make suitable provision for them. It was a
prize worth playing for, and she played the game for
all it was worth. * Leaving her babes to Providence *
was just the kind of sentiment most likely to appeal
to Lady Byron who did, in a measure, respond to
Augusta's hints. In a letter (December 23, 18 19)
Lady Byron writes :
' With regard to your pecuniary interests ... I am
aware that the interests of your children may rightly
influence your conduct when guilt is not incurred by
consulting them. However, your children cannot, I
trust, under any circumstances, be left destitute, for
reasons which I will hereafter communicate.'
There was at this time a strong probability of
Byron's return to England. Lady Byron tried to
extract from Augusta a promise that she would not
see him. Augusta fenced with the question, until,
when driven into a corner, she was compelled to
admit that it would be unnatural to close the door
against her brother. Lady Byron was furious :
' I do not consider you bound to me in any way,'
she writes. ' I told you what I knew, because I
thought that measure would enable me to befriend
you — and chiefly by representing the objections to a
renewal of personal communication between you and
him. . . . We must, according to your present inten-
tions, act independently of each other. On my part it
will still be with every possible consideration for you
and your children, and should I, by your reception of
PLAYING WITH FIRE 381
him, be obliged to relinquish my intercourse with
you, I will do so in such manner as shall be least
prejudicial to your interests. I shall most earnestly
wish that the results of your conduct may tend to
establish your peace, instead of aggravating 3^our re-
morse. But, entertaining these views of your duty
and my own, could I in honesty, or in friendship,
suppress them ?'
It might have been supposed that Lady Byron, in
1816, after Augusta's so-called 'confession,' would
have kept her secret inviolate. That had been a con-
dition precedent ; without it Augusta would not have
ventured to deceive even Lady Byron. It appears
from the following note, written by Lady Byron to
Mrs. Villiers, that Augusta's secret had been confided
to the tender mercies of that lady. On January 26,
1820, Lady Byron writes :
' I am reluctant to give you my impression of what
has passed between Augusta and me, respecting her
conduct in case of his return ; but I should like to
know whether your unbiassed opinion, formed from
the statement of facts, coincided with it.'
Verily, Augusta had been playing with fire !
CHAPTER V
On December 31, 1819, Byron wrote a letter to his
wife. Tlie following is an extract :
' Augusta can tell you all about me and mine, if you
think either worth the inquiry. The object of my
writing is to come. It is this : I saw Moore three
months ago, and gave to his care a long Memoir,
written up to the summer of 18 16, of my life, which I
had been writing since I left England. It will not be
published till after my death ; and, in fact, it is a
Memoir, and not " Confessions." I have omitted the
most important and decisive events and passions of
my existence, not to compromise others. But it is not
so with the part you occupy, which is long and
minute ; and I could wish you to see, read, and mark
any part or parts that do not appear to coincide with
the truth. The truth I have always stated — but there
are two ways of looking at it, and your way may be
not mine. I have never revised the papers since they
were written. You may read them and mark what
you please. I wish you to know what I think and say
of you and yours. You will find nothing to flatter
you ; nothing to lead you to the most remote suppo-
sition that we could ever have been — or be happy
together. But I do not choose to give to another
generation statements which we cannot arise from the
dust to prove or disprove, without letting you see
fairly and fully what I look upon you to have been,
and what I depict you as being. If, seeing this, you
can detect what is false, or answer what is charged, do
so ; your mark shall not be erased. You will perhaps
382
LADY BYRON AND THE MEMOIRS 383
say, Why write my life ? Alas ! I say so too. But they
who have traduced it, and blasted it, and branded me,
should know that it is they, and not I, are the cause. It
is no great pleasure to have lived, and less to live over
again the details of existence ; but the last becomes
sometimes a necessity, and even a duty. If you
choose to see this, you may ; if you do not, you have
at least had the option.'
The receipt of this letter gave Lady Byron the
deepest concern, and, in the impulse of a moment, she
drafted a reply full of bitterness and defiance. But
Dr. Lushington persuaded her — not without a deal
of trouble — to send an answer the terms of which,
after considerable delay, were arranged between
them. The letter in question has already appeared in
Mr. Prothero's * Letters and Journals of Lord Byron,'*
together with Byron's spirited rejoinder of April 3,
1820.
Lord Lovelace throws much light upon the inner
workings of Lady Byron's mind at this period. That
she should have objected to the publication of Byron's
memoirs was natural ; but, instead of saying this in a
few dignified sentences. Lady Byron parades her
wrongs, and utters dark hints as to the possible com-
plicity of Augusta Leigh in Byron's mysterious scheme
of revenge. Dr. Lushington at first thought that it
would be wiser and more diplomatic to beg Byron's
sister to dissuade him from pubHshing his memoirs,
but Lady Byron scented danger in that course.
' I foresee,' she wrote to Colonel Doyle, * from the
transmission of such a letter . . . this consequence :
that an unreserved disclosure from Mrs. Leigh to
him being necessitated, they would combine together
against me, he being actuated by revenge, she by fear ;
* Vol. v., p. I.
384 'ASTARTE'
whereas, from her never having dared to inform him
that she has already admitted his guilt to me with her
own, they have hitherto been prevented from acting in
concert'
Byron was, of course, well acquainted with what
had passed between his wife and Augusta Leigh, It
could not have been kept from him, even if there had
been any reason for secrecy. He knew that his sister
had been driven to admit that Medora was his child,
thus implying the crime of which she had been sus-
pected. There was nothing, therefore, for Augusta to
fear from him. She dreaded a public scandal, not so
much on her own account as ' for the sake of others.'
For that reason she tried to dissuade her brother from
inviting a public discussion on family matters. There
was no reason why Augusta should ' combine ' with
Byron against his hapless wife I
The weakness of Lady Byron's position is admitted
by herself in a letter dated January 29, 1820:
* My information previous to my separation was
derived either directly from Lord Byron, or from my
observations on that part of his conduct which he
exposed to my view. The infatuation of pride may
have blinded him to the conclusions which must in-
evitably be established by a long series of circum-
stantial evidences.'
Oh, the pity of it all ! There was something
demoniacal in Byron's treatment of this excellent
woman. Perhaps it was all very natural under the
circumstances. Lady Byron seemed to invite attack
at every conceivable moment, and did not realize that
a wounded tiger is always dangerous. This is the
way in which she spoke of Augusta to Colonel Doyle :
* Reluctant as I have ever been to bring my domestic
concerns before the public, and anxious as I have felt
AUGUSTA'S LITTLE PLAN 385
to save from ruin a near connection of his, I shall feel
myself compelled by duties of primary importance, if
he perseveres in accumulating injuries upon me, to
make a disclosure of the past in the most authentic form.'
Lady Byron's grandiloquent phrase had no deeper
meaning than this : that she was willing to accuse
Augusta Leigh on the strength of 'a long series of
circumstantial evidences.' We leave it for lawyers to
say whether that charge could have been substantiated
in the event of Mrs. Leigh's absolute denial, and her
disclosure of all the circumstances relating to the birth
of Medora.
In the course of the same year (1820) Augusta,
having failed to induce Lady Byron to make a definite
statement as to her intentions with regard to the
Leigh children, urged Byron to intercede with his
wife in their interests. He accordingly wrote several
times to Lady Byron, asking her to be kind to
Augusta — in other words, to make some provision
for her children. It seemed, under all circumstances,
a strange request to make, but Byron's reasons were
sound. In accordance with the restrictions imposed
by his marriage settlement, the available portion of
the funds would revert to Lady Byron in the event
of his predeceasing her. Lady Byron at first made
no promise to befriend Augusta's children ; but later
she wrote to say that the past would not prevent her
from befriending Augusta Leigh and her children
' in any future circumstances which may call for my
assistance.'
In thanking Lady Byron for this promise, Byron
writes :
'As to Augusta ****, whatever she is, or may have
been, you have never had reason to complain of her;
25
386 'ASTARTE'
on the contrary, you are not aware of the obligations
under which you have been to her. Her life and
mine — and yours and mine — were two things per-
fectly distinct from each other ; when one ceased the
other began, and now both are closed.'
Lord Lovelace seeks to make much out of that state-
ment, and says in * Astarte ':
* It is evident, from the allusion in this letter, that
Byron had become thoroughly aware of the extent of
Lady Byron's information, and did not wish that she
should be misled. He probably may have heard from
Augusta herself that she had admitted her own guilt,
together with his, to Lady Byron.'
What naivete! Byron's meaning is perfectly clear.
Whatever she was, or may have been — whatever her
virtues or her sins — she had never wronged Lady
Byron. On the contrary, she had, at considerable risk
to herself, interceded for her with her brother, when
the crisis came into their married life. Byron's inter-
course with his sister had never borne any connection
with his relations towards his wife — it was a thing
apart — and at the time of writing was closed perhaps
for ever. He plainly repudiates Lady Byron's cruel
suspicions of a criminal intercourse having taken place
during the brief period of their married existence.
He could not have spoken in plainer language without
indelicacy, and yet, so persistent was Lady Byron in
her evil opinion of both, these simple straightforward
words were wholly misconstrued. Malignant casuistry
could of course find a dark hint in the sentence,
' When one ceased, the other began '; but the mind
must indeed be prurient that could place the worst
construction upon the expression of so palpable a fact.
It was not Lady Byron's intention to complain of
things that had taken place previous to her marriage ;
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE COCKBURN 387
her contention had always been that she separated
from her husband in consequence of his conduct while
under her own roof When, in 1869, all the documen-
tary evidence upon which she relied was shown to
Lord Chief Justice Cockburn, that great lawyer thus
expressed his opinion of their value :
' Lady Byron had an ill-conditioned mind, preying
upon itself, till morbid delusion was the result. If
not, she was an accomplished hypocrite, regardless of
truth, and to whose statements no credit whatever
ought to be attached.'
Lord Lovelace tells us that all the charges made
against Lady Byron in 1869 (when the Beecher Stowe
' Revelations ' were published) would have collapsed
* if all her papers had then been accessible and avail-
able '; and that Dr. Lushington, who was then alive,
' from the best and kindest motives, and long habit of
silence,' exerted his influence over the other trustees
to suppress them ! Why, we may ask, was this ? The
answer suggests itself. It was because he well knew
that there was nothing in those papers to fix guilt
upon Mrs. Leigh. It must not be forgotten that Dr.
Lushington, in 1816, expressed his deliberate opinion
that the proofs were wholly insufficient to sustain a
charge of incest. In this connection Lady Byron's
written statement, dated March 14, 1816, is most
valuable.
'The causes of this suspicion,' she writes, 'did not
amount to proof . . . and I considered that, whilst a
possibility of innocence existed, every principle of
duty and humanity forbade me to act as ii Mrs. Leigh
was actually guilty, more especially as any intimation
of so heinous a crime, even if not distinctly proved,
must have seriously affected Mrs. Leigh's character
and happiness.'
25 — 2
388 ' ASTARTE '
Exactly one month after Lady Byron had written
those words, her husband addressed her in the follow-
ing terms :
* I have just parted from Augusta — almost the last
being you had left me to part with, and the only un-
shattered tie of my existence. Wherever I may go,
and I am going far, you and I can never meet again in
this world, nor in the next. Let this content or atone.
If any accident occurs to me, be kind to her ; if she is
then nothing, to her children,'
It was, as we have seen, five years before Lady
Byron could bring herself to make any reply to this
appeal. How far she fulfilled the promise then made,
' to befriend Augusta Leigh and her children in any
future circumstances which might call for her assist-
ance,' may be left to the imagination of the reader.
We can find no evidence of it in * Astarte ' or in the
' Revelations ' of Mrs. Beecher Stowe.
CHAPTER VI
In order to meet the charges which the late Lord
Lovelace brought against Mrs. Leigh in 'Astarte,' we
have been compelled to quote rather extensively from
its pages. In the chapter entitled ' Manfred ' will be
found selections from a mass of correspondence which,
without qualification or comment, might go far to con-
vince the reader. Lord Lovelace was evidently * a
good hater,' and he detested the very name of Augusta
Leigh with all his heart and soul. There was some
reason for this. She had, in Lord Lovelace's opinion,
' substituted herselffor Lord Byron's right heirs' ('Astarte,'
p. 125). It was evidently a sore point that Augusta
should have benefited by Lord Byron's will. Lord
Lovelace forgot that Lady Byron had approved of the
terms of her husband's will, and that Lady Byron's
conduct had not been such as to deserve any pecuniary
consideration at Lord Byron's death. But impartiality
does not seem to have been Lord Lovelace's forte.
Having made up his mind that Mrs. Leigh was guilty,
he selected from his papers whatever might appear
most likely to convict her. But the violence of his
antagonism has impaired the value of his contention ;
and the effect of his arguments is very different from
that which he intended. Having satisfied himself that
Mrs. Leigh (though liked and respected by her con-
389
390 ' ASTARTE '
temporaries) was an abandoned woman, Lord Lovelace
says :
*A real reformation, according to Christian ideals,
would not merely have driven Byron and Augusta
apart from each other, but expelled them from the
world of wickedness, consigned them for the rest of
their lives to strict expiation and holiness. But this
could never be; and in the long-run her flight to an
outcast life would have been a lesser evil than the
consequences of preventing it. The fall of Mrs. Leigh
would have been a definite catastrophe, affecting a small
number of people for a time in a startling manner. The
disaster would have been obvious, but partial, imme-
diately over and ended. . . . She would have lived
in open revolt against the Christian standard, not in
secret disobedience and unrepentant hypocrisy.'
Poor Mrs. Leigh ! and was it so bad as all that ?
Had she committed incest with her brother after the
separation of 1816? Did she follow Byron abroad 'in
the dress of a page,' as stated by some lying chronicler
from the banks of the Lake of Geneva ? Did Byron
come to England in secret at some period between
1816 and 1824? If not, what on earth is the meaning
of this mysterious homily ? Does Lord Lovelace, in
the book that survives him, wish the world to believe
that Lady Byron prevented Augusta from deserting
her husband and children, and flying into Byron's
arms in a ' far countree ' ? If that was the author's
intention, he has signally failed. There never was a
moment, since the trip abroad was abandoned in 181 3,
when Augusta had the mind to join her brother in his
travels. There is not a hint of any such wish in any
document published up to the present time. Augusta,
who was undoubtedly innocent, had suffered enough
from the lying reports that had been spread about
town by Lady Caroline Lamb, ever to wish for another
PERILOUS DOCTRINES 391
dose of scandal. If the Lovelace papers contain any
hint of that nature, the author of ' Astarte ' would most
assuredly have set it forth in Double Pica, It is a
baseless calumny.
In Lord Lovelace's opinion,
'judged by the light of nature, a heroism and sin-
cerity of united fates and doom would have seemed,
beyond all comparison, purer and nobler than what
they actually drifted into. By the social code, sin
between man and woman can never be blotted out,
as assuredly it is the most irreversible of facts. Never-
theless, societies secretly respect, though they excom-
municate, those rebel lovers who sacrifice everything
else, but observe a law of their own, and make a
religion out of sin itself, by living it through with
constancy.'
These be perilous doctrines, surely ! But how do
those reflections apply to the case of B3Ton and his
sister? The hypothesis maybe something like this:
Byron and his sister commit a deadly sin. They are
found out, but their secret is kept by a select circle of
their friends. They part, and never meet again in this
world. The sin might have been forgiven, or at least
condoned, if they had ' observed a law of their own ' —
in other words, 'gone on sinning.' Why? because
* societies secretly respect rebel lovers.' But these
wretches had not the courage of their profligacy ;
they parted and sinned no more, therefore they were
* unrepentant hypocrites.' The ' heroism and sincerity
of united fates and doom ' was denied to them, and
no one would ever have suspected them of such a
crime, if Lady Byron and Lord Lovelace had not
betrayed them. What pestilential rubbish ! One
wonders how a man of Lord Lovelace's undoubted
ability could have sunk to bathos of that kind.
392 ' ASTARTE '
' Byron,' he tells us, ' was ready to sacrifice every-
thing for Augusta, and to defy the world with her.
If this had not been prevented [the italics are ours], he
would have been a more poetical figure in history than as
the author of " Manfred." '
It is clear, then, that in Lord Lovelace's opinion
Byron and Augusta were prevented by someone from
becoming poetical figures. Who was that guardian
angel ? Lady Byron, of course !
Now, what are the facts ? Byron parted from his
sister on April 14, 18 16, Jiine days prior to his own
departure from London. They never met again. There
was nothing to * prevent ' them from being together
up to the last moment if they had felt so disposed.
Byron never disguised his deep and lasting affection
for Augusta, whom in private he called his ' Dear
Goose,' and in public his 'Sweet Sister.' There was
no hypocrisy on either side — nothing, in short, except
the prurient imagination of a distracted wife, aided
and abetted by a circle of fawning gossips.
It is a lamentable example of how public opinion
may be misdirected by evidence, which Horace would
have called Parthis mendacior.
Lord Lovelace comforts himself by the reflection
that Auffusta
*fc>'
'was not spared misery or degradation by being
preserved from flagrant acts ; for nothing could be
more wretched than her subsequent existence ; and
far from growing virtuous, she went farther down
without end temporally and spiritually.'
Now, that is very strange ! How could Augusta
have gone farther down spiritually after Byron's de-
parture ? According to Lord Lovelace, ' Character
regained was the consummation of Mrs. Leigh's ruin !'
A CRYPTIC UTTERANCE 393
Mrs. Leigh must have been totally unlike anyone
else, if character regained proved her ruin. There
must be some mistake. No, there it is in black and
white. * Her return to outward respectability was an
unmixed misfortune to the third person through whose
protection it was possible.'
This cryptic utterance implies that Mrs. Leigh's
respectability was injurious to Lady Byron. Why ?
' If Augusta had fled to Byron in exile, and was
seen with him as et soror et conjiix^ the victory re-
mained with Lady Byron, solid and final. This was
the solution hoped for by Lady Byron's friends^ Lushington
and Doyle, as well as Lady Noel.'
So the cat is out of the bag at last ! It having
been impossible for Lady Byron to bring any proof
against Byron and his sister which would have
held water in a law-court, her friends and her legal
adviser hoped that Augusta would desert her husband
and children, and thus furnish them with evidence
which would justify their conduct before the world.
But Augusta was sorry not to be able to oblige
them. This was a pity, because, according to Lord
Lovelace, who was the most ingenuous of men :
* Their triumph and Lady Byron's justification would
have been complete, and great would have been their
rejoicing.'
Well, they made up for it afterwards, when Byron
and Augusta were dead ; after those memoirs had
been destroyed which, in Byron's words, 'will be a
kind of guide-post in case of death, and prevent some
of the lies which would otherwise be told, and destro}'
some which have been told already.'
In allusion to the meetings between Lady Byron
394 • ASTARTE '
and Augusta immediately after the separation, we are
told in ' Astarte ' that
' on all these occasions, one subject — uppermost in the
thoughts of both — had been virtually ignored, except
that Augusta had had the audacity to name the reports
about herself with all the pride of innocence. Inter-
cotirse could not continue on that footings for Augusta
probably aimed at a positive guarantee of her inno-
cence, and at committing Lady Byron irretrievably to
that'
This was great presumption on Mrs. Leigh's part,
after all the pains they had taken to make her uncom-
fortable. Lady Byron, we are told by Lord Lovelace,
could no longer bear the false position, and 'before
leaving London she went to the Hon. Mrs. Villiers — a
most intimate friend of Augusta's' — and deliberately
poisoned her mind. That which she told Mrs. Villiers
is not stated ; but we infer that Lady Byron retailed
some of the gossip that had reached her through one
of Mrs. Leigh's servants who had overheard part of a
a conversation between Augusta and Byron shortly
after Medora's birth. After the child had been taken
to St. James's Palace, Byron often went there. It is
likely that Augusta had been overheard jesting with
Byron about his child. We cannot be sure of this ;
but, at any rate, some such expression, if whispered
in Lady Byron's ears, would be sufficient to confirm
her erroneous belief.
Mrs. Villiers, we are told, began from this time to
be slightly prejudiced against Augusta. She believed
her to be absolutely pure, but with lax notions of
morality. This sounds like a contradiction in terms,
but so it was ; and through the wilful misrepre-
sentation of Lady Byron and her coterie, Augusta's
AUGUSTA PERSECUTED 395
best friend was lured from her allegiance. Mrs. Villiers
was also informed of something else by Wilmot-
Horton, another friend of Lady Byron's. The plot
thickened, and, without any attempt being made to
arrive at the truth, Augusta's life became almost un-
bearable. No wonder the poor woman said in her
agony : ' None can know how much I have suffered
from this unhappy business, and, indeed, I have never
known a moment's peace, and begin to despair for the
future.'
The ' unhappy business * was, of course, her unwise
adoption of Medora. Through that error of judgment
she was doomed to plod her way to the grave, sus-
pected by even her dearest friend, and persecuted by
the Byron family. Mrs. Villiers was a good woman
and scented treason. She boldly urged Lady Byron
to avow to Augusta the information of which she was
in possession. But Lady Byron was at first afraid to
run the risk. She knew very well the value of ser-
vants' gossip, and feared the open hostility of Augusta
if she made common cause with Byron, This much
she ingenuously avowed in a letter to Dr. Lushington.
But, upon being further pressed, she consented to
write to Augusta and announce what she had been
told. We have no doubt that the letter was written
with great care, after consultation with Colonel Doyle
and Lushington, and that the gossip was retailed with
every outward consideration for Augusta's feelings.
Whatever was said, and there is no evidence of it in
* Astarte,' we are there told that ' Augusta did not
attempt to deny it, and, in fact, admitted everything
in subsequent letters to Lady Byron during the summer
of 1816.' Lord Lovelace ingenuously adds : ' It is un-
necessary to produce them here, as their contents are
396 ' ASTARTE '
confirmed and made sufficiently clear by the corre-
spondence of 1819, in another chapter.'
It is very strange that Lord Lovelace, who is not
thrifty in his selections, should have withheld the only
positive proof of Augusta's confession known to be in
existence. His reference to the letters of 18 19, which
he publishes, is a poor substitute for the letters them-
selves. The only letter which affords any clue to the
mystery is the 'Dearest Love' letter, dated May 17,
1819, which we have quoted in a previous chapter.
The value of that letter, as evidence against Augusta,
we have already shown. When compared with the
letter which Byron wrote to his sister on June 3, 1817
— a year after he had parted from her — the conclu-
sion that the incriminating letter is not addressed to
Augusta at all, forces itself irresistibly upon the mind.
As an example of varying moods, it is worth quoting :
' For the life of me I can't make out whether your
disorder is a broken heart or ear-ache — or whether it
is you that have been ill or the children — or what your
melancholy and mysterious apprehensions tend to — or
refer to — whether to Caroline Lamb's novels — Mrs.
Clermont's evidence — Lady Byron's magnanimity, or
any other piece of imposture.'
It is really laughable to suppose that the writer of
the above extract could have written to the same lady
two years later in the following strain :
' My dearest love, I have never ceased, nor can cease,
to feel for a moment that perfect and boundless attach-
ment which bound and binds me to you — which renders
me utterly incapable of 7'eal love for any other human
being — for what could they be to me after jfow ? My
own **** we may have been very wrong,' etc.
But Lord Lovelace found no difficulty in believing
that the letter in question sealed the fate of Augusta
NO EVIDENCE TO BRING INTO COURT 397
Leigh. In the face of such a document, Lord Lovelace
thought that a direct confession in Augusta's hand-
writing would be superfluous, and Sir Leslie Stephen
had warned him against superfluity !
Colonel Doyle, an intimate friend of Lady Byron,
seems to have been the only man on her side of the
question — not even excepting Lushington — who
showed anything approaching to common sense. He
perceived that Lady Byron, by avowing the grounds
of her suspicions to Mrs. Leigh, had placed herself in
an awkward position. He foresaw that this avowal
would turn Mrs. Leigh into an enemy, who must
sooner or later avenge the insults heaped upon her.
On July 9, 1 8 16, Colonel Doyle wrote to Lady Byron :
' Your feelings I perfectly understand ; I will even
whisper to you t approve. But you must remember
that your position is very extraordinary, and though,
when we have sufficiently deliberated and decided, we
should pursue our course without embarrassing our-
selves with the consequences ; yet we should not
neglect the means of fully justifying ourselves if the neces-
sity be ever imposed upon us.'
We have quoted enough to show that, five months
after the separation was formally proposed to Lord Byron,
they had not sufficient evidence to bring into a court
of law. Under those depressing circumstances Lady
Byron was urged to induce Augusta to ' confess '; the
conspirators would have been grateful even for an
admission of guilt as prior to Lord Byron's marriage !
Colonel Doyle, as a man of honour, did not wish
Lady Byron to rely upon * confessions ' made under
the seal of secrecy. They had, apparently, been duped
on a previous occasion ; and, in case Mrs. Leigh were
to bring an action against Lady Byron for defamation
of character, it would not be advisable to rely, for her
398 * ASTARTE '
defence, upon letters which were strictly private and
confidential. As to Augusta's 'admissions,' made
orally and without witnesses, they were absolutely
valueless — especially as the conditions under which
they were made could not in honour be broken.
Augusta through all this worry fell into a state of
deep dejection. She had been accused of a crime
which (though innocent) she had tacitly admitted.
Her friends were beginning to look coldly upon her,
and consequently her position became tenfold more
difficult and * extraordinary' than that of her accuser.
Perhaps she came to realize the truth of Dryden's lines :
' Smooth the descent and easy is the way ;
But to return, and view the cheerful skies,
In this the task and mighty labour lies.'
Equivocation is a dangerous game.
Lord Lovelace tells us that all the papers concern-
ing the marriage of Lord and Lady Byron have been
carefully preserved. ' They are a complete record of
all the causes of separation, and contain full informa-
tion on every part of the subject'
We can only say that it is a pity Lord Lovelace
should have withheld those which were most likely to
prove his case — for example, the letters which Mrs.
Leigh wrote to Lady Byron in the summer of 1816.
The public have a right to demand from an accuser
the grounds of his accusation. Lord Lovelace gives
us none. He bids us listen to what he deigns to tell
us, and to ask for nothing more. That his case is
built upon Lady Byron's surmises, and upon no
more solid foundation, is shown by the following
illuminating extract from ' Astarte ' :
* When a woman is placed as Lady Byron was, her
mind works involuntarily, almost unconsciously, and
LADY BYRON RESISTS THE LIGHT 399
conclusions force their way into it. She has not
meant to think so and so, and she has thought it ; the
dreadful idea is repelled then, and to the last, with the
whole force of her will, but when once conceived it
cannot be banished. The distinctive features of a true
hypothesis, when once in the mind, are a precise con-
formity to facts already known, and an adaptability to
fresh developments, which allow us not to throw it
aside at pleasure. Lady Byron's agony of doubt could
only end in the still greater agony of certainty ; but
this was no result of ingenuity or inquiry, as she
sought not for information.'
If Lady Byron did not seek for information when
she plied Augusta with questions, and encouraged her
friends to do the same, she must have derived pleasure
from torturing her supposed rival. But that is absurd.
' Women,' says Lord Lovelace, ' are said to excel in
piecing together scattered insignificant fragments of
conversations and circumstances, and fitting them all
into their right places amongst what they know
already, and thus reconstruct a whole that is very
close to the complete truth. But Lady Byron's whole
effort was to resist the light, or rather the darkness,
that would flow into her mind.'
In her effort to resist the light. Lady Byron seems
to have admirably succeeded. But, in spite of her
grandson's statement, that she employed any great
effort to resist the darkness that flowed into her mind
we entirely disbelieve. We are rather inclined to
think that, in her search for evidence to convict Mrs.
Leigh, she would have been very grateful for a farthing
rushlight.
We now leave * Astarte ' to the judgment of posterity,
for whom, in a peculiarly cruel sense, it was originally
intended. If in a court of law counsel for the prose-
cution were to declaim loudly and frequently about
400 ' ASTARTE '
evidence which he does not — perhaps dares not — pro-
duce, his harangues would make an unfavourable im-
pression on a British jury. We have no wish to speak
ill of the dead, but, in justice to Mrs. Leigh, we feel
bound to say that the author of ' Astarte,' with all his
talk about evidence against Byron and Augusta Leigh,
has not produced a scrap of evidence which would
have any weight with an impartial jury of their
countrymen.
But we will not end upon a jarring note. Let us
remember that Lord Lovelace, as Ada's son, felt an
affectionate regard for the memory of Lady Byron.
It was his misfortune to imbibe a false tradition, and,
while groping his way through the darkness, his sole
guide was a packet of collected papers by which his
grandmother hoped to justify her conduct in leaving
her husband. If Lady Byron had deigned to read
Byron's * Memoirs,' she might have been spared those
painful delusions by which her mind was obsessed in
later years. That she had ample grounds, in Byron's
extraordinary conduct during the brief period of their
intercourse, to separate herself from him is not dis-
puted ; but her premises were wrong, and her vain
attempt to justify herself by unsupported accusations
against Mrs. Leigh has failed.
Her daughter Ada, the mother of Lord Lovelace,
had learnt enough of the family history to come to the
conclusion (which she decidedly expressed to Mr.
Fonblanque) that the sole cause of the separation was
incompatibility. There let it rest. The Byron of the
last phase was a very different man from the poet of
* The Dream.'
On the day that Byron was buried at Hucknall-
Torkard the great Goethe, in allusion to a letter which
I
GOETHE'S TRIBUTE 401
Byron, on the eve of his departure for Greece, had
written to him, says :
' What emotions of joy and hope did not that paper
once excite ! But now it has become, b}^ the premature
death of its noble writer, an inestimable relic and a
source of unspeakable regret ; for it aggravates, to a
peculiar degree in me, the mourning and melancholy
that pervade the moral and poetic world. In me, who
looked forward (after the success of his great efforts)
to the prospect of being blessed with the sight of this
master-spirit of the age, this friend so fortunately
acquired ; and of having to welcome on his return the
most humane of conquerors.
' But I am consoled by the conviction that his
country will at once awake, and shake off, like a
troubled dream, the partialities, the prejudices, the
injuries, and the calumnies, with which he has been
assailed ; and that these will subside and sink into
oblivion ; and that she will at length acknowledge that
his frailties, whether the effect of temperament, or the
defect of the times in which he lived (against which
even the best of mortals wrestle painfully), were only
momentary, fleeting, and transitory ; whilst the im-
perishable greatness to which he has raised her, now
and for ever remains, and will remain, illimitable in its
glory and incalculable in its consequences. Certain
it is that a nation, who may well pride herself on so
many great sons, will place Byron, all radiant as he is,
by the side of those who have done most honour to
her name.'
With these just words it is fitting to draw our
subject to a close. The poetic fame of Byron has
passed through several phases, and will probably
pass through another before his exact position in the
poetical hierarchy is determined. But the world's
interest in the man who cheerfully gave his life to
the cause of Greek Independence has not declined.
Eighty-five 3^ears have passed, and Time has gradually
26
402
ASTARTE
fulfilled the prophecy which inspiration wrung from
the anguish of his heart :
* But I have lived, and have not lived in vain :
My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire,
And my frame perish even in conquering pain ;
But there is that within me which shall tire
Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire ;
Something unearthly, which they deem not of,
Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre,
Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move
In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of Love.'
APPENDIX
DR. BRUNO'S REPLY TO FLETCHER'S STATEMENT
The following remarks appeared in the Westiui)ister
Review, and gave great annoyance to Dr. Millingen,
who thought that he had been accused of having
caused the death of Byron by putting off, during four
successive days, the operation of bleeding :
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 pre-
scribed by Dr. Bruno, and was not opposed to the opinion that
bleeding was necessary ; but he said to his lordship that it
might be deferred till the next day. He held this language for
three successive days, while the other physician (Dr. Bruno)
every day threatened Lord Byron that he would die by his
obstinacy in not allowing himself to be bled. His lordship
always answered : ' You wish to get the reputation of curing
my disease, that is why you tell me it is so serious ; but I will
not permit you to bleed me.'
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-morrow; and thus four days slipped away,
403 26—2
404 APPENDIX
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 Byron's
malady were more and more confirmed, urged the necessity of
bleeding, and of no longer delaying it a moment. This caused
Lord Byron, disgusted at finding that he could not be cured
without loss of blood, to say that it seemed to him that the
doctors did not understand his malady. He then had a man
sent to Zante to fetch Dr. Thomas. Mr. Fletcher having
mentioned this to Dr. Bruno, the latter observed that, if his
lordship would consent to lose as much blood as was necessary,
he would answer for his cure ; but that if he delayed any
longer, or did not entirely follow his advice, Dr. Thomas would
not arrive in time : in fact, when Dr. Thomas was ready to set
out from Zante, Lord Byron was dead.
The pistols and stiletto were removed from his lordship's
bed — not by Fletcher, but by the servant Tita, who was the
only person that constantly waited on Lord Byron in his illness,
and who had been advised to take this precaution by Dr.
Bruno, the latter having perceived that my lord had moments
of delirium.
Two days before the death a consultation was held with
three other doctors, who appeared to think that his lordship's
disease was changing from inflammatory 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 pronounced inevitable if
the china were given him. In effect, after my lord had taken
the tincture, with some grains of carbonate of ammonia, he was
* Tinct. chinas corticis ; tinct. cinchonae.
APPENDIX 405
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 physicians who were
present at that opening were convinced that my lord would
have been saved by the bleeding, which his physician, Dr.
Bruno, had advised from the beginning with the most pressing
urgency and the greatest firmness.
F. B.
DR. MILLINGEN'S ACCOUNT
Mr, Finlay and myself called upon him in the evening, when
we found him lying on a sofa, complaining of a slight fever and
of pains in the articulations. He was at first more gay than
usual ; but on a sudden he became pensive, and, after remaining
some few minutes in silence, he said that during the whole day
he had reflected a great deal on a prediction which had been
made to him, when a boy, by a famed fortune-teller in Scotland.
His mother, who firmly believed in cheiromancy and astrology,
had sent for this person, and desired him to inform her what
would be the future destiny of her son. Having examined
attentively the palm of his hand, the man looked at him for
a while steadfastly, and then with a solenm voice exclaimed :
' Beware of your thirty-seventh year, my young lord — beware !'
He had entered on his thirty-seventh year on the 22nd of
January ; and it was evident, from the emotion with which he
related this circumstance, that the caution of the palmist had
produced a deep impression on his mind, which in many respects
was so superstitious that we thought proper to accuse him of
superstition. ' To say the truth,' answered his lordship, ' I find it
equally difficult to know what to believe in this world and what
not to believe. There are as many plausible reasons for in-
ducing me to die a bigot as there have been to make me
hitherto live a freethinker. You will, I know, ridicule my
belief in lucky and unlucky days ; but no consideration can now
induce me to undertake anything either on a Friday or a
Sunday. 1 am positive it would terminate unfortunately.
406 APPENDIX
Every one of my misfortunes — and God knows I have had my
share — have happened to me on one of those days.'
Considering myself on this occasion, not a medical man, but
a visitor, and being questioned neither by his physician nor
himself, I did not even feel Lord Byron's pulse. I was in-
formed next morning that during the night he had taken
diaphoretic infusions, and that he felt himself better. The next
day Dr. Bruno administered a purgative, and kept up its
effects by a solution of cream of tartar, which the Italians call
' imperial lemonade.' In the evening the fever augmented,
and as on the 14th, although the pains in the articulations
had diminished, the feverish symptons were equally strong,
Dr. Bruno strongly recommended him to be blooded ; but as
the patient entertained a deep-rooted prejudice against bleed-
ing, his physician could obtain no influence whatever over him,
and his lordship obstinately persevered in refusing to submit to
the operation.
On the 15th, towards noon, Fletcher called upon me and in-
formed me that his master desired to see me, in order to con-
sult with Dr. Bruno on the state of his health. Dr. Bruno
informed me that his patient laboured under a rheumatic fever
— 4hat, as at first the symptoms had been of a mild character,
he had trusted chiefly to sudorifics ; but during the last two
days the fever had so much increased that he had repeatedly
proposed bleeding, but that he could not overcome his lord-
ship's antipathy to that mode of treatment. Convinced, by an
examination of the patient, that bleeding was absolutely neces-
sary, I endeavoured, as mildly and as gently as possible, to
persuade him ; but, in spite of all my caution, his temper was
so morbidly irritable that he refused in a manner excessively
peevish. He observed that, of all his prejudices, the strongest
was against phlebotomy. * Besides,' said his lordship, ' does
not Dr. Reid observe in his Essays that less slaughter has been
efiected by the warrior's lance than by the physician's lancet ?
It is, in fact, a minute instrument of mighty mischief.' On my
observing that this remark related to the treatment of nervous
disorders, not of inflammatory ones, he angrily replied : ' Who
is nervous, if I am not ? Do not these words, besides, apply
to my case ? Drav/ing blood from a nervous patient is like
APPENDIX 407
loosening the chords of a musical instrument, the tones of
which are already defective for want of sufficient tension.
Before I became ill, you know yourself how weak and irritable
I had become. Bleeding, by increasing this state, will inevit-
ably kill me. Do with me whatever else you please, but bleed
me you shall not. I have had several inflammatory fevers
during my life, and at an age when I was much more robust
and plethoric than I am now ; yet I got through them without
bleeding. This time also I will take my chance.'
After much reasoning and entreaty, however, I at length
succeeded in obtaining a promise that, should his fever increase
at night, he would allow Bruno to bleed him, Happy to
inform the doctor of this partial victory, I left the room, and,
with a view of lowering the impetus of the circulatory system,
and determining to the skin, I recommended the administration
of an ounce of a solution of half a grain of tartarized antimony
and two drachms of nitre in twelve ounces of water.
Early the next morning I called on the patient, who told me
that, having passed a better night than he had expected, he
had not requested Dr. Bruno to bleed him. Chagrined at this,
I laid aside all consideration for his feelings, and solemnly
assured him how deeply I lamented to see him trifle with his
life in this manner. I told him that his pertinacious refusal to
be bled had caused a precious opportunity to be lost ; that a
few hours of hope yet remained ; but that, unless he would
submit immediately to be bled, neither Dr. Bruno nor myself
could answer for the consequences. He might not care for
life, it was true ; but who could assure him, unless he changed
his resolution, the disease might not operate such disorganiza-
tion in his cerebral and nervous system as entirely to deprive
him of his reason ? I had now touched the sensible chord, for,
partly annoyed by our unceasing importunities, and partly
convinced, casting at us both the fiercest glance of vexation,
he threw out his arm, and said in the most angry tone : ' Come ;
you are, I see, a d d set of butchers. Take away as much
blood as you will, but have done with it.'
We seized the moment, and drew about twenty ounces. On
coagulating, the blood presented a strong buffy coat. Yet the
relief obtained did not correspond to the hopes we had antici-
408 APPENDIX
pated, and during the night the fever became stronger than it
had been hitherto. The restlessness and agitation increased,
and the patient spoke several times in an incoherent manner.
The next morning (17th) the bleeding was repeated; for,
although the rheumatic symptoms had completely disappeared,
the cerebral ones were hourly increasing, and this continuing
all day, we opened the vein for the third time in the afternoon.
Cold applications were from the beginning constantly kept on
the head ; blisters were also proposed. When on the point of
applying them, Lord Byron asked me whether it would answer
the same purpose to apply both on the same leg. Guessing
the motive that led him to ask this question, I told him I
would place them above the knees, on the inside of the thighs.
' Do so,' said he ; ' for as long as I live I will not allow anyone
to see my lame foot.'
In spite of our endeavours, the danger hourly increased ; the
different signs of strong nervous affection succeeded each other
with surprising rapidity ; twitchings and involuntary motions
of the tendons began to manifest themselves in the night ; and,
more frequently than before, the patient muttered to himself
and talked incoherently.
In the morning (i8th) a consultation was proposed, to which
Dr. Lucca Vaga and Dr. Freiber, my assistant, were invited.
Our opinions were divided. Bruno and Lucca proposed having
recourse to antispasmodics and other remedies employed in
the last stage of typhus. Freiber and I maintained that such
remedies could only hasten the fatal termination ; that nothing
could be more empirical than flying from one extreme to the
other ; that if, as we all thought, the complaint was owing
to the metastasis of rheumatic inflammation, the existing
symptoms only depended on the rapid and extensive progress
it had made in an organ previously so weakened and irritable.
Antiphlogistic means could never prove hurtful in this case ;
they would become useless only if disorganization were already
operated; but then, when all hopes were fled, what means
would not prove superfluous ?
We recommended the application of numerous leeches to the
temples, behind the ears, and along the course of the jugular
vein, a large blister between the shoulders, and sinapisms to the
I
APPENDIX 409
feet. These we considered to be the only means Hkely to
succeed. Dr. Bruno, however, being the patient's physician,
had, of course, the casting vote, and he prepared, in conse-
quence, the antispasmodic potion which he and Dr. Lucca had
agreed upon. It was a strong infusion of valerian with ether,
etc. After its administration the convulsive movements and
the delirium increased ; yet, notwithstanding my earnest
representations, a second dose was administered half an hour
after ; when, after articulating confusedly a few broken phrases,
our patient sank into a comatose sleep, which the next day
terminated in death.
Lord Byron expired on the 19th of April, at six o'clock in the
afternoon. Interestingas every circumstance relative to the death
of so celebrated a person may prove to some, I should, never-
theless, have hesitated in obtruding so much medical detail on
the patience of the reader, had not the accounts published by
Dr. Bruno in the Westminster Review, and many of the news-
papers, rendered it necessary that I should disabuse the friends
of the deceased ; and at the same time vindicate my own
professional character, on which the imputation has been laid of
my having been the cause of Lord Byron's death by putting off,
during four successive days, the operation of bleeding.
I must first observe that, not knowing a syllable of English,
although present at the conversation I had with Lord Byron,
Dr. Bruno could neither understand the force of the language
I employed to surmount his lordship's deep-rooted prejudice
and aversion for bleeding, nor the positive refusals he repeatedly
made before I could obtain his promise to consent to the opera-
tion. Yet he boldly states that I spoke to Lord Byron in
a very undecided manner of the benefits of such an operation,
and that I even ventured to recommend procrastination ; and
these, he says, are the reasons that induced him to consent to
the delay — as ii he were himself indifferent to such treatment, or
as if a few words from me were sufficient to determine him !
Conduct like this it is not difficult to appreciate : I shall
therefore forbear abandoning myself to the indignation such
a falsehood might naturally excite ; nor shall I repel his un-
warrantable accusation by relating the causes of that deep-
rooted jealousy which Dr. Bruno entertained against me from
410 APPENDIX
the day he perceived the preference which Lord Byron indicated
in favour of English physicians. This narrow-minded, envious
feeling, as I could prove, prevented him from insisting on
immediately calling me, or other medical men at Missolonghi*
to a consultation. Had he done so, he would have exonerated
himself from every responsibility ; but his vanity made him
forget the duty he owed to his patient, and even to himself-
For I did not see Lord Byron (medically) till I was sent for by
his lordship himself, without any participation on the part of
Dr. Bruno. I can refute Dr. Bruno's calumnies, not only from
the testimony of others, but even from his own. For the
following extract from the article published in the Telegraplio
Greco, announcing the death of Lord Byron, was at the request
of Count Gamba (himself a witness of whatever took place
during the fatal illness of his friend) composed by the doctor •
' Notwithstanding the most urgent entreaties and representa-
tions of the imminent danger attending his complaint made to
him from the onset of his illness, both by his private physician
and the medical man sent by the Greek Committee, it was
impossible to surmount the great aversion and prejudice he
entertained against bleeding, although he lay under imperious
want of it ' (Vide Telegrapho Greco, il di 24 Aprile, 1824).
As to the assertion confidently made by Dr. Bruno, that, had
his patient submitted at the onset of his malady to phlebotomy,
he would have infallibly recovered, I believe every medical
man who maturely considers the subject will be led to esteem
this assertion as being founded rather on presumption than on
reason. Positive language, which is in general so misplaced in
medical science, becomes in the present case even ridiculous ;
for, if different authors be consulted, it will appear that the very
remedy which is proclaimed by some as the anchor of salvation,
is by others condemned as the instrument of ruin. Bleeding
(as many will be found to assert) favours metastasis in rheu-
matic fevers ; and, in confirmation of this opinion, they will
remark that in this case, as soon as the lancet was employed,
the cerebral symptoms manifested themselves on the disappear-
ance of the rheumatic ; while those who incline to Dr. Reid's
and Dr. Heberden's opinion will observe that, after each
successive phlebotomy, the cerebral symptoms not only did not
eft
APPENDIX 411
remain at the same degree, but that they hourly went on
increasing. In this dilemmatic position it is evident that, what-
ever treatment might have been adopted, detractors could not
fail to have some grounds for laying the blame on the medical
attendants. The more I consider this difficult question, how-
ever, the more I feel convinced that, whatsoever method of cure
had been adopted, there is every reason to believe that a fatal
termination was inevitable ; and here I may be permitted to
observe, that it must have been the lot of every medical man
to observe how frequently the fear of death produces it, and
how seldom a patient, who persuades himself that he must die, j ^vvfi.*^ ,
is mistaken. The prediction of the Scotch fortune-teller was
ever present to Lord Byron, and, like an insidious poison,
destroyed that moral energy which is so useful to keep up
the patient in dangerous complaints. ' Did I not tell you,' said
he repeatedly to me, ' that I should die at thirty-seven ?'
There is an entry in Millingen's ' Memoirs of Greece'
which has not received the attention it deserves —
namely, a request made by Byron on the day before
his death. It is given by Millingen in the following
words :
* One request let me make to you. Let not my body
be hacked, or be sent to England. Here let my bones
moulder. Lay me in the first corner without pomp or
nonsense.' '■ ' * ■■ ' '
After Byron's death Millingen informed Gamba of
this request, but it was thought that it would be a
sacrilege to leave his remains in a place ' where they
might some day become the sport of insulting bar-
barians.'
INDEX
Adam, Sir F., High Commis-
sioner of the Ionian islands : his
tribute to Byron's character, 202
Agraifa, the scene of Cariasca-
chi's depredations, 162
Allegra,ByTon's natural daughter :
her life and death, 22 ; Byron's
feelings for, 35
Americans, Byron on, 131
Anatoliko, Turkish abandonment
of, 68
Argostoli, BjTon arrives at, 63
Astarfe, by Earl of Lovelace. See
Lovelace
Augusta, Stanzas and Epistle to,
29O' 324- 364
Barnard, Lady Anne, on Byron's
married life, 329 ct seq.
Beecher Stowe scandals, 318, 326
Bentham, Jeremy, and Byron,
108 et scq., 119 ; amusing anec-
dote about, 126 et scq.
Berry, Messrs., Byron's wine
merchants: register of Byron's
weight, 19
Bible, The, Scott's hnes on, 73
Blackwood's Magazine on Byron,
50, 100, 315, 316
Blaquiere, Captain, 48 ; sails for
England, 64 ; describes the
return of Hatajeto her parents,
137 ; eulogy on Byron, 176,
if 77, 199 ct seq.
Blessington, Lady, Conversations of
Lord Byron : describes Byron, 5,
6 ; character and reminiscences
of BjTon, 34 et scq., 40, 41
Bolivar, The, Byron's j^acht, sold to
Lord Blessington, 32 ; her end, 33
Botzari, Marco, 48 ; his death, 66
Bowring, Mr., hon. secretary to
the Greek Committee, 126
Bride of Abydos, The : what the
poem reveals, 240, 259, 260, 262,
265
Brougham, Mr., spreads the
scandal, 340
Broughton, Lord (see Hobhouse.
John Cam), Recollections of a
Long Life, 201, 247 n., 339 n.,
340 n., 359 n.
Browne, Hamilton, goes with
Byron to Greece, 47, 48 ;
Byron's illness, 62 ; arrives at
Cephalonia, 67
Bruno, Dr., travels with Byron to
Greece, 47, 48 ; Byron's illness,
59, 62 ; medical discussions
with Dr. Stravolemo, 79 ; his
medical treatment of Byron,
124, 163, 166, 168, 169, 193 et
seq.; accompanies B3Ton's body
to England, 202 ; reply to
Fletcher's statement, 403 etseq.;
Dr. Millingen on, 405 et seq.
Brydges, Sir Egerton, 291
Burdett, Sir Francis, 11, 208
B}Ton, George Gordon (sixth
Lord) : arrival and habits of life
at Pisa, 3, II, 20-22 ; personal
appearance, 4-7 ; evidence as
to his lameness, 7, 8, 191 ; por-
traits of, 9, 10 ; inherits the
Noel property on death of
Lady Noel, 10, 11 ; the society
and influence of the Shelleys,
IX et seq. ; discussion on the
most perfect ode produced, 11^
12, 58 ; religion, 13 ct seq. •
412
INDEX
413
habit of vaunting his vices, 17,
18,78; abstinence, 18; weight
register, 19 ; fracas at Pisa and
Montenero, 21, 22 ; his natural
daughter Allegra, 22 d seq. ;
effect of Allegra's death on, 24 ;
dealings with Leigh Hunt, 26
et scq. ; death of Shelley and
Williams, 29, 30 ; refuses Shel-
ley's legacy of ;({^2,ooo, 32 ;
leaves Pisa with Countess Guic-
cioH and goes to Albaro, 32 ;
sells his yacht Tlic Bolwar, 33 ;
feelings on his own position,
and desire for reconciliation
with his wife, 33 d scq. ; admi-
ration for Sir Walter Scott and
Shelley, 35 ; liaison with Coun-
tess Guiccioli, 37, 379, 380 ;
conduct after separation from
his wife, 39 d scq. ; Lady Bles-
sington on, 40 ; anomalies, 41 ;
opinion of his wife, 42 ; ad-
miration for his sister, 42 ;
affection for his child Ada, 43 ;
craving for celebrity, 45 ; takes
up the Greek cause, 46 ; travels
to Greece with money, arms,
and retinue, 47 ; arrives at
Argostoli, 47, 65 ; practical
sympathy, 48, 67 ; an interest-
ing interview with, 48 d scq. ;
visits the Fonuiain of Ardhiisa,
51-53 ; attacks of illness, 51,52,
59, 62, 63 ; excursion to the
Scliool of Homer, 54-57 ; on the
IVavcrlcy Novels, 57 ; at Vathi,
58 ; admiration for Southey,
Gifford, and others, 59, 60 ;
reception at Santa Eufemia,
60 ; on actors, 61 ; journey
over the Black Mountain to
Argostoli, 63 ; action with regard
to dissensions in Greece, 64 et
seq. ; resides at Metaxata, 67 ;
advances ;!{^4,ooo to the Greeks,
67 ei seq. ; appeal to the Greek
nation, 69 ; motives in coming
to Greece, 70, 71, 94; discus-
sions with Dr. Kennedy on re-
ligion, 72 t'/sf 9.; favourite books,
79, 82, 100 ; helps to rescue work-
men, 80 ; sails with money from
Zante for Missolonghi to join
and Iieip the Greek fleet, 81.
82 ; adventurous voyage, 83-86 ;
reception at Missolonghi, 88 ;
releases Turkish prisoners, 89,
90, 132 ; preparations against
Lepanto, 91 ; takes 50x3 Suliotes
into his pay, 91 ; and Major
Parry, 92 d scq., 143 ; Turks
blockade Missolonghi, 96 ;
verses on his birthday, 96 ;
presentiment that he "would
never leave Greece, and his
intentions, 97 ; some reminis-
cences of, 98 d scq. ; wonderful
memory, 102 ; a popular idol
in Greece, 105 ; relations with
Mavrocordato, 106, 116; and
Colonel Stanhope, 107 d seq.,
120, 121, 122 ; Jeremy Hentham,
108 ; dealings with the press,
112, 113 ; views of the politics
of Greece, 114 ; effective mode
of reproof, 117 ; on the useless
supplies sent by the London
Committee, 119 ; abandonment
of the Lepanto project, 121 ;
illness and feelings as to death,
122-125 ; dismisses the Suhotes,
125, 142 ; anecdote of /erry
BcntJiavi's Cruise, 126 d seq. ;
interest in the working classes,
130 ; his politics, 131 ; on Amer-
ica, 131 ; the story of Hataj^,
133 cf seq.; Turkish brig ashore,
139 ; hrmness and tact in difli-
culties, 140, 156 c( scq.; de-
sertion of the English artificers,
142, 143 ; improvement in his
health, 144 ; favourite dogs,
145, 227 ; daily life, 145, 147 ;
the unhealthy state of Misso-
longhi, 146 ; bodyguard, 146 ;
indisposition of, 148 ; peasants'
respect for, 149 ; no desire for
selt -aggrandizement in Greece,
151 d scq. ; Greek loan raised
in London, 156 ; receives the
freedom of Missolonghi, 157 ;
Cariascachi's treachery, 159 d
seq. ; detailed accounts of his
last illness, and death, 163 d
seq., 192 et seq., 403 et seq. ;
eulogies on, 174 d scq., 201,
205 ; Trelawny's opinion of,
414
INDEX
178 et seq. ; effect of his death
on Greece, 183 ei seq., 201 ; the
funeral oration, 185 ; body con-
veyed to Zante, and thence to
England, 198 ei seq. ; arrival of
the body in England, 202-204 >
character sketch by Colonel
Stanhope, 205 ct seq. ; funeral
procession and burial at
Hucknall - Torkard, 215, 216 ;
what the poems reveal, 219
ei seq. ; infatuation for Mary
Chaworth, 220 ei seq. ; mystery
of the Thvrza poems, 221 ei
seq. ; romantic attachment to
Edleston, 222, 223, 230, 231 ;
anecdote of Mary Chaworth's
gift, 224 ; his mother's death,
227; on death of his friends, 227,
228; Childe Harold, 233, 236,
238, 287, 363 ; and the Hon. Mrs.
George Lamb, 235 ; disbelief
in existence after death, 239,
240 ; in great dejection writes
The Giaour, The Bride of A bydos,
and Tlie Corsair, 240, 256 ci
seq., 277, 278, 281, 303 ; and
Lady Webster, 240, 241, 259 ;
persuaded to give up going
abroad, 241, 242 ; what he
wishes the world to believe
about Mary Chaworth, 244,
245 ; their meetings after her
separation from her husband,
246, 258 ei seq. ; remorse and
parting, 249 ; suspense and
fear preceding the birth of
Medora, 253, 260 ; reason of
separation from his wife, 255 ;
reproaches Mary Chaworth,
256, 257 ; device for a seal,
261, 267 ; remarkable letter to
Moore, 266 ; birth of Medora,
268 ; Lara, 268, 271, 273 ;
partly the cause of the scandal
about Mrs. Leigh, 270 ; effect
of Miss Milbanke's first refusal,
271 eiscq.; Harmodia, 274, 275 ;
Don Juan, 276, 304 ei seq. ;
Hebrew Melodies, 277 ; Herod's
Lament for Mariamne, 278 ; his
significant communication to
his lawyer, 279 ; verses to Mary
Chaworth, 280, 281 ; fear of
disgrace, 281 ; important cor-
respondence with Murray, 282,
283 ; last meeting with Mary
Chaworth, 283 ; how the secret
was kept, 285 ; verses to his
sister, 286, 287 ; The Dream,
289, 290; Stanzas to Augusta,
290, 364 ; Manfred, 291 ei
seq., 328, 364 ; his treatment of
the scandal, 291, 317, 320 ;
The Duel, 293, 298 ; The Lament
of Tasso, 297 ; Stanzas to the
Po, 298 et seq., 370 ; Last Words
on Greece, 311 ; on his separa-
tion from his wife, 315 et seq. ;
Mrs. Leigh's so-called confes-
sion, 319 et seq., 356 et seq.,
368 ; Epistle to Augusta, 324 ;
story of his married life,
329 et seq. ; Sir Ralph Noel
requires a separation, 339 ;
Lady Jersey's party, 352 ; parts
for the last time from his
sister, 352, 366, 392 ; consents
to separation from his wife,
352 ; Lady Byron's written
statement of complaints, 353 ;
letter to Lady Byron as to
his will, 355 ; Moore's life of,
365 et seq. ; writes to Moore
about the scandal, 367 ; letter
supposed to be written to Mary
Chaworth, 368 et seq. ; letter
compared with one to his
sister, 372 ; writes to Lady
Byi^on as to the memoir of his
life, 382 ; asks Lady Byron to
make provision for Mrs. Leigh's
children, 385, 388 ; Goethe on,
400, 401
Byron, Lord : Letters and Journals
of, by Rowland Prothero, 70 n.,
256 n., 260 n. ; Life of, by Tom
Moore, 365 ; Reminiscences of,
by G. Finlay, 201 ; Sketch of
by Colonel Stanhope, 201
Byron, Captain George (after-
wards seventh Lord), 337, 338
Byron, Hon. Augusta. See Leigh,
Hon. Mrs. Augusta
Byron, Hon. Augusta Ada (after-
wards Lady King and Countess
of Lovelace), Byron's daughter :
separation from her father, 43,
INDEX
415
44, 288 ; Hobhouse's opinion
of, 206, 207 ; her health, 363
BjTon, Lady (formerly Miss
Milbanke) : property and settle-
ments on marriage, 10 ; married
life, 36, 329 et scq. ; her hus-
band's desire for reconciliation,
36, 46, 206 ; on Byron's re-
ligion, 77, 78 ; the result of
first refusal of Byron, 206, 272 ;
// / am not happy, it will be
my own fault, 216 ; on Byron's
poetry, 219 ; on his indiscreet
confidences, 270 ; her conduct
after the birth of Medora, 285,
289, 321 d seq. ; interview with
Mrs. Leigh at Reigate, 324 ;
Mrs. Leigh's long visit to, 336 ;
birth of a daughter, and her
husband's treatment, 337 ; steps
for a separation talcen, 338,
34i> 351. 352, 357> 358 ; her
treatment of the abstracted
letters, 340, 357 ; attempts to
extract a confession from Mrs.
Leigh, 322, 324, 341, 357,
361 et scq. ; letters to Mrs.
Leigh, 342, 343, 357; Hodgson's
appeal to, 346 ci scq. ; text of
the signed statement of her
conduct, 353 ct seq. ; Colonel
Doyle's advice, 360 ; her hus-
band's letter to Mary Chaworth,
368 et scq. ; and the prospects
of Mrs. Leigh's children, 380,
385 ; confides in Mrs. Villiers,
381 ; letter from Byron, 382 ;
the weakness of her position,
383, 384 ; Cockburn's opinion
of, 387 ; Lord Lovelace on, 389
et scq.
Campbell, Dr., Presbyterian
divine, 55
Campbell, Thomas, Battle of tlic
Baltic, 60
Cariascachi, a Greek chieftain,
his treachery, 159 et seq.
Chaworth, Mary (afterwards Mrs.
John Musters) : Byron's infatua-
tion for, and references in his
poems to, 220 et seq. ; unhappy
married life and separation,
243 et scq. ; weakness and re-
pentance, 245 ct scq.; break-
down of health, and recon-
ciliation with her husband, 251 ;
describes her own character,
252 ; birth of Medora, 254,
268 ; how the secret was kept
by Mrs. Leigh, 255, 285, 287,
317, 321, 362 et scq. ; letters to
Byron, 267, 368 ct scq.; last
parting with Byron, 283
Childc Harold, what the poem
reveals, 228, 229, 232 et scq.,
287, 363
Clairmont, Claire : her anxiety
about her daughter Allegra,
22, 23 ; her conduct to Byron,
24.25
Clare, Lord, and Byron, 208
Clermont, Mrs., 337 ; her ab-
straction of Byron's letters,
340 et scq., 378
Cockburn, Sir Alexander, Lord
Chief Justice, and the Byron
mystery, 358 ; his opinion of
Lady Byron, 387
Coleridge, Ernest Hartley, on
identity of Byron's infatuation,
233, 240, 260
Colocotroni, one of the turbulent
capitani, 153
Con gr eve rockets, 92, 93
Corsair, The, what the poem
reveals, 240, 262 et seq., 277, 279
Dacre, Lord, 11
Davies, Scrope B., 98, 352 ;
Byron's letter to, 227
Don Juan, what the poem re-
veals, 219, 276, 304 et scq.
Dowden, Professor, Life of Shelley :
on Byron, 13 ; the death of
Allegra, 23
Doyle, Colonel PYancis : con-
sulted by Lady Byron as to a
separation, 338 ; signs Lady
Byron's statement of her con-
duct, 355 ; advises Lady Byron
to obtain a confession from
Mrs. Leigh, 360, 361, 397
Dragomestri, Byron's visit to, 85
Dream, The, what the poem re-
veals, 289, 290
Duel, The, the poem's application
to Mary Chaworth, 298
4i6
INDEX
Edleston, a chorister at Cam-
bridge : Byron saves his life
and forms a romantic attach-
ment to, 222 ; his death, 230,
231
Elphinstone, Miss Mercer, and
Byron, 311
Fenton, Captain, 180
Finlay, George, History of Greece :
the siege of Missolonghi, yo ;
Byron's mode of hfe at Misso-
longhi, 98 et seq., 148 ; on
Byron, 176 ; Reminiscences of
Byron, 201 ; Byron's last ill-
ness, 405
Fletcher, Byron's valet : Byron's
last ride, 164 ; ignorance of the
doctors, 165, 166 ; Byron's last
illness and death, 170, 171, 252 ;
his statement, 192 et seq. ; ac-
companies Byron's body to
England, 202 ; Dr. Bruno's
reply to the statement, 403
et seq.; Dr. Millingen's account
of Byron's last illness, 405 et seq.
Florida, the brig, brings the loan
to Greece, and conveys back
Byron's body, 199 et seq.
Freiber, Dr., German physician,
attends Byron, 169
Gamba, Count Pietro : on Byron's
religious opinions, 16, 17 ;
fracas at Pisa, 20 ; goes to
Albaro, 32 ; travels v^ith Byron
to Greece, 47, 48 ; on Byron's
perseverance and discernment,
65 ; on Byron's favourite read-
ing, 79 ; Byron's practical
sympathy, 80 ; accompanies
Byron to Missolonghi, 83 ;
taken prisoner by the Turks,
84 ; release and arrival at
Missolonghi, 85 ; the General
Assembly at Missolonghi, 88 ;
Byron's interview with the two
privateer sailors, 91 ; becomes
editor of the Greek Telegraph,
114; By);on's illness, 121, 143,
148, 163 et seq. ; arrest of
English officers, 157 ; Byron's
funeral, 184; conveys Byron's
body to Zante, 198
Gamba, Count Ruggiero, Byron's
neighbour at Pisa, 3 ; leaves
Pisa and goes to Montenero, 21 ;
ordered to leave Montenero,
22 ; goes to Albaro, 32 ; and
Byron, 212
Gamba, Teresa. See Guiccioli,
Countess
Gell, Sir William, his writings,
100, loi n.
George IV. makes ' equivoca-
tion ' the fashion, 17, 18 ; and
Sir Walter Scott, 53
Giaour, The, what the poem
reveals, 240, 256, 257, 265
Gifford, William, Byron's opinion
of, 51, 60
Greece : Byron sails for, 47 ;
state of the country and army,
64, 87 et seq., 118, 180; Byron
advances ;^4,ooo, 67 ; Byron's
appeal to the nation, 69, 70 ;
preparations against Lepanto,
91 ; honours offered to Byron,
151, 152 ; Congress at Salona,
153 ; Greek loan raised in
London, 156 ; effect of Byron's
death on, 175 et seq.
Greece, History of by G. Finlay,
70; by Mitford, 100
Greek Cltronicle: Byron's support,
108; suppression of, 112, 113
Greek Telegraph, 103, 113
Guiccioli, Countess, daughter
of Count Ruggiero Gamba :
Byron's neighbour at Pisa, 3,
4, 20 ; describes Byron, 7 et
seq. ; on the characters of
Shelley and Byron, 14, 15 ; on
Byron's conduct towards
Allegra, 23 ; on Byron's re-
ligion, 74, 78 ; anecdote about
Mary Chaworth's ring, 224 ;
Lady of the Land, 298, 301, 370 ;
and Mrs. Leigh, 379
Hancock, Charles, Byron's
banker, 82
Hanson, John, Byron's solicitor,
241. 34S> 346
Harinodia, 274, 275
Hataj^, Byron's kindness to, 133
et seq.
Hay, Captain, fracas at Pisa, 20, 21
INDEX
417
Hebrew Melodies, 277
Hercules, the, an English brig :
Byron and his suite sail to
Greece in it, 47 ; Byron lives on
board, 64, 65
Herod's Lament for Mariamne, 278
Hesketh, Mr., 158, 159
Hey wood. Sergeant, consulted
by Lady Byron, 338
Hobhouse, John Cam (afterwards
Lord Broughton) : and Byron,
35 ; persuades Byron to burn
his journal, 102 ; destroys one
of Byron's poems, 208 ; Byron's
funeral, 215, 216 ; and Lady
Byron, 2 16, 320 ; life-long friend
of Mrs. Leigh, 319. See also
Broughton, Lord
Hodgson, captain of the Florida,
203
Hodgson, Rev. Francis : con-
sulted by Mrs. Leigh, 344 et scq.;
appeals to Lady Byron, 346
et seq.
Hodgson, Rev. F., Memoir of, 73 n.
Holmes, Mr. James, his portrait
of Byron, 9
Hours of Idleness, what the poem
reveals, 220
Hucknall-Torkard, Byron's burial
place, 44
Humphreys, Captain, on state of
Greece, 180
Hunt, Sir Aubrey de Vere, 102
Hunt, Leigh: the story of his
literar}' and money relations
with Byron, 26 et seq.; Byron's
opinion of, 31
Ireland, Dr., Dean of West-
minster, refuses burial of Byron
in Westminster Abbey, 203
Jersey, Countess of, her party in
honour of Byron, 352
Kean, Edmund, actor, Byron's
opinion of, 61
Kemble, John, actor, Byron's
opinion of, 61
Kennedy, Dr., Scottish medical
man : tries to ' convert ' Byron,
72 et scq. ; and Hataje, 136 ;
Lady Byron on, 77
King, Lady. See Byron, Hon.
Augusta Ada
Kinnaird, the Hon. Douglas,
Byron's opinion of, 208
Knox, Captain, 51
Knox, Mrs., 50, 54
Lamb, Hon. Mrs. George, and
Byron, 235
Lamb, Lady Caroline, spreads
the Byron scandal, 270, 317,
340. 390
Lambro, a Suliote chief, 156, 164
Lara, what the poem reveals, 268,
271, 273
Leigh, Hon. Mrs. Augusta, half-
sister of Lord Byron : influence
over her brother, 42, 73, 245,
261 ; and his poetry, 103 ;
wishes him to go abroad, 242 ;
first introduction to, and close
intimacy with, Mary Chawortli,
250 ; loyalty to her brother and
Mary Chaworth, 255, 287, 317,
321 ; letters from lier brother
about Mary Chaworth, 258,
267, 268 ; simulated confine-
ment and convalescence, 269 ;
her brother's conduct gives
colour to the scandal, 270,
279, 285 ; letters to Hodgson
on the secret, 272, 344 et scq. ;
spends a month at Newstead
with her brother, 279 ; the diffi-
culties of keeping the secret,
285, 317, 362 et scq.; lines in
Childe Harold referring to, 287 ;
the so-called confession, 289,
322, 324, 325, 341, 357, 361 ct
scq.; Stanzas to Augusta, 290,
364 ; Lord Lovelace's opinion
of her character, 294, 295 ; the
accusation dealt with in detail,
318 £/ scq.; Lord Stanhope and
Frances, Lady Shelley on, 318 ;
the story of her life, 319 ; Hob-
house's advice to, 320 ; difficult
position with Lady Byron,
321, 341, 362, 367 ; her pre-
dicament owing to the adop-
tion of Medora, 322 ; Epistle
to Augusta, 324 ; letters to
Hodgson on her brother's
marriage, 332 ct seq.; a long
27
4i8
INDEX
visit to her brother and Lady
Byron, 336 ; Lady Byron's feel-
ings towards her, 336, 337, 342,
343) 360 ; Lady Byron's confine-
ment, 337 ; Mrs. Clermont's
treachery, 341 ; Lady Jersey's
party, 352 ; parts for ever from
her brother, 352 ; Lady Byron's
written statement, 353 et seq.;
letters to Hodgson on her
brother, 362 ; her Une of con-
duct to Lady B3Ton, 362 ci seq. ;
Moore on Byron's feelings
towards her, 366 ; pretends
that her brother's letter to
Mary Chaworth was written
to herself, 368 et seq. ; a genu-
ine letter, 372 ; reply to Lady
Byron's advice, 375 et seq.; her
children's prospects discussed
with Lad}' Byron, 380, 385 ;
Lady Byron's request, 380 ;
Lord Lovelace on, 389 et seq.
Lepanto, preparations against.
Liberal, The, its unsuccessful
career, 31, 32
Lion, Byron's favourite dog, 145,
146
Londos, General Andrea, and
Byron, 155
Lovelace, Earl of, Astarte :
Byron's Thyrza, 234 n. ; accusa-
tions against Mrs. Leigh, 249,
269 et seq., 287, 288, 318, 321,
322, 338, 34i> 362, 366 et seq.,
368 et seq., 385 et seq., 390 ;
describes Mrs. Leigh's char-
acter, 294 ; Manfred, the key
of the mystery, 326 et seq., 364 ;
Byron's mutability, 339 ; Lady
Byron's written statement, 353
et seq.; important letters from
Byron, 368 et seq., 385, 386 ;
and Lady Byron, 387
Lushington, Dr. : advises Lady
Byron, 338, 351, 352, 357, 358,
383, 387 ; his opinion on Byron's
letters abstracted by Mrs. Cler-
mont, 341 ; signs Lady Byron's
statement, 353 et seq.
Magdalen, a fragment, 269
Maitland, Sir Thomas, High
Commissioner of the Ionian
Islands, 52, 61 ; character and
death, 115, 116
Mafifred, the supposed key to
the mystery, 291 et seq., 328, 364
Marino Faliero, 100
Marshall, Mrs. Julian, Life and
Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft
Shelley, 178, 180
Masi, Sergeant-Major, fracas at
Pisa, 20, 21
Matthews, Charles Skinner, one
of Byron's best friends, his
death, 227
Mavrocordato, Prince, Governor-
General of Western Greece :
and Byron, 66, 68, 70, 202 ;
brings the Greek fleet to Mis-
solonghi, 81 ; Byron's arrival
at Missolonghi, 85 ; B3Ton's
interview with two privateer
sailors, 91 ; his jealousy, 105,
106 ; infraction of neutrality in
Ithaca, 115 ; Byron's opinion
of, 116 ; opposition by Colonel
Stanhope, 119, 153 ; and Odys-
seus, 153 et seq.; Byron's last
illness and death, 164 et seq.;
effect of Byron's death on,
177, 202 ; Trelawny's opinion
of, 179, 180 ; his efforts for
Greece, 181 ; issues a procla-
mation on Byron's death, 183,
184
Medora, birth of, 254, 268 ; Childe
Harold, 288; adoption by Mrs.
Leigh, 322
Medwin, Captain Thomas : his
description of Byron, 4, 6, 11 ;
on Byron's life at Pisa, 20 ;
The Angler in Wales, 33 n.
Melbourne, Lady, persuades
Byron not to go abroad, 242
Metaxata, B3T0n's residence at,
65.79
Meyer, Jean Jacques, editor of
the Greek Chronicle, 112
Milbanke, Miss. See Byron,
Lady
Milbanke, Sir Ralph, his prop-
erty, 10
Millingen, Dr. : on Byron's char-
acter, 95 ; on Parry, 96 ; Byron
a favourite in Greece, 105,
177 ; on the Greek press, 113 ;
INDEX
419
Byron's illness, 124 ; Byron's
kind treatment of Hataj^, 133 et
scq. ; on Cariascachi's treachery,
161 ; on Byron's unhappiness
and anxieties, 162 ; attends
Byron in his last illness and
death, 167 et scq., 190, 193 d
se?., 403 et scq.; on Mavrocor-
dato, 181
Missolonghi : blockade of, 66, 96 ;
Turks retire from, 70 ; Greek
squadron at, 81 ; description
of, 87 ; Byron's arrival and life
at, 88, 99 ; release of Turkish
prisoners, 133 ; Turkish brig-
of-war runs ashore off, 139 ;
effect of Byron's death, 175,
183 ct scq.
Mitford, William, History of
Greece, 100
Monthly Literary Recreations,
loi n.
Montlily Review, Byron's reviews
in, 100, loi n.
Moore, Thomas : letters from
Shelley and Byron, 13, 14, 266 ;
and Byron, 36 ; on the Thyrza
poems, 229 ; Byron's love for
Mary Chaworth, 238, 246, 266,
279 ; criticism on his Life of
Byron, 365
Moore, Sir John, ode on the
death of, 58
Muir, Dr., principal medical
officer at Cephalonia, 82
Muir, General Skey, 82
Murray, John, Byron's publisher :
Byron's letters to, 30, 31 ; Childe
Harold, 50 ; asks for Byron
to be buried in Westminster
Abbey, 203 ; and Mrs. Leigh,
269 ; Byron's copyrights, 281 ;
Epistle to Augusta, 324
Musters, John, husband of Mary
Chaworth : the ring incident
and engagement, 224, 225 ;
separation from his wife, 245 ;
behaviour to his wife, 246 ;
reconciliation, 251 ; cuts down
the peculiar diadem of trees, 289
Napier, Colonel, British Resi-
dent Governor of Argostoli,
48, 80
Newstead Abbey : sale of, 99 ;
Byron's visits, 226, 227
Noel, Lady, Byron's mother-in-
law : Byron inherits the Noel
property on her death, 10 ;
her bequest of BjTon's por-
trait, 43 n. ; advice as to her
daughter's separation from
Byron, 338 ; and Mrs. Leigh,
362
Noel, Sir Ralph, writes to Byron
requiring a separation, 339
O'Doherty, Ensign, Byron's
opinion of his poetry, 100
Odysseus, Greek insurgent leader :
his opposition to Mavrocordato,
153 ; and Trelawny, 179, 180
Osborne, Lord Sidney, and Sir
Thomas Maitland, 115 ; goes
to Missolonghi, 198 ; eulogy of
Byron's conduct in Greece,
201
Parry, Major : his arrival at Mis-
solonghi, 91, 92 ; his peculi-
arities, 92 et seq. ; practical joke
on, 95 ; on Byron's intentions
in Greece, 97, 98 ; on tlie re-
lationship between Mavrocor-
dato and Byron, 116 ; on
Byron's mode of reproof, 117 ;
account of Byron's illness, 121 ;
anecdote of Jerry Bentliaiu's
Cruise, 126; Turkish brig-of-
war ashore, 139 ; artillery at
Missolonghi, 144 ; on Byron's
mode of life, 145 ; on Byron's
power in Greece, 151, 152 ;
Byron's last illness and death,
164 et seq., 196 ; his opinion of
Byron, 175
Phillips, Thomas, his portrait of
Byron, 9
Pigot, Elizabeth, Byron's letters
to, 222, 223
Pisa : Shelley's description of, 3 ;
Byron's life at, 20
Po, Stanzas to the, what they re-
veal, 298 ct scq., 370
Pope, Alexander, Homer, 51
Prothero, Rowland E. : Letters
and journals of Lord Byron,
70 n., 125, 256 n., 260 n., 383
27—2
420
INDEX
Quarterly Review, the, 50, 100
Recollections of a Long Life. See
Broughton, Lord
Roberts, Captain, describes the
wreck of The Bolivar, 33
Robertson, Rev. Frederick, Lady
Byron's spiritual adviser, 324
Robinson, Crabti, 77
Romilly, Sir Samuel, consulted by
Lady Byron, 338
Salona, Congress at, 152, 153
Sanders, Mr. George, painter, his
portrait of Byron, 9
Sardanapalus, a tragedy, loi
Sass, Lieutenant, death of, 141
Scliilitz}', a Greek, accompanies
Byron to Greece, 47
Scott, Captain, commands the
Hercules, in which Byron
travels to Greece, 47
Scott, Dr., surgeon, and Byron,
54,58
Scott, Sir Walter : B3'ron's opinion
of, 35, 51- 55, 79 ; hi^ denial of
the authorship of the Wuvcrlcy
Novels, 53
Segati, Marianna, Byron's haison
with, 371
Shakespeare, William, B3Ton's
opinion of, loi
Shelley, Percy Bysshe : describes
Pisa, 3 ; and Byron, 11 ct seq. ;
fracas at Pisa, 20, 21 ; and
Allegra, 22 ; leaves Pisa for
Lerici, 26 ; and Leigh Hunt,
26 et seq. ; his death, 30 ; Byron's
opinion of, 30, 35 ; his legacy
to Byron, 32
Shelley, Life and Letters of Mary
Wollstonecraft, by Mrs. Julian
Marshall, 178
Stanhope, Col. the Hon. Leices-
ter : arrives in Cephalonia to
co-operate with Byron, 68 ;
on Byron's character, 78, 174 ;
begs Byron to come to Misso-
longhi, 81 ; on Byron's conduct
in Greece, 91, 107 ; interviews
and misunderstandings with
Byron, 108 et seq. ; his conduct
in Greece, 119, 153; accom-
panies Byron's body to Eng-
land, 199, 202 ; Greece in 182J
and 1824, and Sketch of Byron,
201 ; character sketch of Byron,
205 et seq.
Stanhope, Earl, historian, opinion
of Mrs. Leigh, 318
Stephen, Sir Leslie, and Mrs.
Leigh's letters, 357
Stowe. See Beecher Stowe
Stravolemo, Dr., physician, and
Dr. Bruno, 79
Suliotes : Byron takes 500 into
his pay, 91 ; false alarm, 123 ;
serious fracas, 140 ; their dis-
missal, 142
Swift, William, bootmaker at
Southwell, his evidence of
Byron's lameness, 8
Taaffe, Mr., fracas at Pisa, 20,
21
Thomas, Dr., invited to attend
Byron in his last illness, 168,
193 et seq.
Thorwaldsen, his marble bust of
Byron, 10
Thyrza poems, what they reveal,
221, 232, 235
Tita, Giovanni Battista Falcieri,
B3a-on's faithful servant, 97,
166, 169 et seq.
Toole, Mr., receives Byron at
Santa Eufemia, 60
Trelawny, Edward John : arrives
at Pisa, 4 ; describes Byron and
his peculiarities, 5, 17, 18 ; on
Leigh Hunt and Byron, 28 ;
effect of Shelley's death, 32 ;
lays up The Bolivar, 32 ; travels
with Byron to Greece, 47, 48 ;
and Byron's seizure, 62 ; mis-
taken views of Byron's motives,
64, 65 ; unhealthiness of Mis-
solonghi, 87 ; his opinion of
Byron, 178 et seq. ; and Mavro-
cordato, 179 ; on Byron's de-
foi^mit}', 191, 192
Tricoupi, Spiridion, pronounces
funeral oration over Byron, 185
Vaga, Dr. Lucca, Greek physician,
attends Byron in his last illness,
169, 408
Vathi, Byron at, 58
INDEX
421
Villi ers, Hon. Mrs., and Mrs.
Leigh, 357, 362, 367; Lady
Byron confides the secret to,
381, 394
Vivian, Charles, his death, 30
Volpiotti, Constantine, spy under
Byron's roof, 162
Watson's Philip 11. , 102
Webster, Lady Frances Wedder-
burn, and Byron, 240, 241,
259
Wentworth, Lord, Byron inherits
his property, 10
West, William Edward, Amer-
ican painter, his portrait of
Byron, 9
Wildman, Colonel Thomas, 44
Wildman, Mrs., owner of Byron's
boot-trees and the bootmaker's
statement as to Byron's de-
formity, 7, 8
Williams, Edward, and Leijjh
Hunt, 29 ; on Byron's treat-
ment of Mrs. Hunt, 29 ; his
death, 30
Wilmot, Robert John, sij^ns Lady
Byron's statement, 355, 357, 359
Wilson, John, 60
Wilson, General Sir Robert,
known as ' Jaffa Wilson,' no
Wordswortli, William, 60 ; Byron
reviews his poems, loi n.
York, Duke of, and Sir Walter
Scott, 53
Young, Charles, actor, Byron's
opinion of, 61
Zante, Byron at, 83, 198
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